Young Wolfgang Wolferl Mozart sat upright in the carriage beside his father, Leopold, his wide eyes sparkling with excitement. It was his sixth birthday month, and today he would play before the imperial family at Schönbrunn Palace. Leopold glanced over at his son, admiration soft in his expression as he smoothed the fine lilac coat that the Empress had gifted the boy. “Remember, Herr Vater Wagenseil may turn your pages today,” Leopold whispered. Wolfgang’s small nod was gentle but confident—he’d already asked for Wagenseil to accompany him on the keyboard, just as he had in previous concerts.

They entered the grand courtyard and ascended the marble steps into the glorious Hall of Mirrors. The polished floor gleamed beneath flickering chandeliers. Leopold’s hand hovered near his son’s shoulder; he inhaled deeply, pride mingling with nerves.