Rewrite That Witch
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Chapter 1022: Divergence

“What’s this?” Victor tapped the image. “A new play?”

Tinkle leaned over and read for a moment. “No, sir — I think this is the magic movie.”

“Magic movie.” He let the words sit. Another phrase this city kept generating, one strange thing following the last. The jewelry trader looked up at her with genuine interest. “Can you tell me more about it?”

The maid’s expression shifted toward apology. “I don’t know much, honestly. A similar picture was hung up in Central Square a few days ago — colored, that one. I heard the magic movie is a brand-new kind of performance, and it’s only available in a special theater.”

An art beyond the times. Victor rubbed the rough paper between his fingers. For a king to use those words without embarrassment — he must believe them completely. “That alone makes it worth seeing.”

He read the remaining lines beneath the title. Dates, location, how to obtain tickets.

Then his gaze landed on the price.

Forty gold royals.

He read it again.

Forty. That exceeded the top troupes in the City of Glow. He could pay it — comfortably — but who else in Neverwinter would, in a city where most people didn’t bother with jewelry?

He read on. His frown deepened as he went.

Residents with Neverwinter ID card can receive a special discount — book a ticket for 25 silver royals. Note: Tickets at non-discounted prices offer a better viewing experience and reserved seating. Discounted tickets do not include food and drinks; outside food and drink is not permitted.

Two entirely different prices, printed in plain ink for anyone to read.

He’d seen tiered pricing. It was common enough among sophisticated merchants — but conducted quietly, in private arrangements, not declared openly in newsprint. Announce the gap too loudly, and the buyers who paid more would feel humiliated, and you’d lose them. Standard reasoning. Self-evident.

And yet here it was, public and unapologetic — with restrictions layered on top, so that the cheaper option actually required more sacrifice.

The effect was perverse. The higher price became a proof of standing rather than an insult. The wealthy merchant who paid forty gold royals wasn’t being exploited; he was being sorted from the crowd and given priority. And the more Victor examined his own irritation at the price, the more he recognized what it actually was: the itch to demonstrate he could pay it.

He climbed off the soft couch and shrugged on his wolfskin coat.

“Sir?” Tinkle’s voice came from the direction of the bed.

He turned. She had changed into a thin veil and was lying beneath the cover, her expression caught somewhere between confusion and mortification.

Victor picked up her discarded dress and tossed it across the room to her. “Where can I buy tickets for the magic movie? Take me there — now.”

The filming of The Wolf Princess had entered its final phase.

The final battle — Princess against demon lord, fought through the halls of a palace — had required Roland to clear the entire ground floor of the castle. The space now belonged to May and her crew.

May, the Star of the Western Region, had given up her role as lead actress and taken sole charge of direction. It was the only way she could do the work justice.

“Cut!” she called, as Lorgar kicked through the castle door and charged into the hall. “Very good. That’s a wrap for today — thank you all.”

“Oh.”

“Thank you, Master,” the crew replied in overlapping voices.

Three years ago, she would have rolled her eyes at the reflexive deference. Now she simply smiled and nodded. Time, she thought. It does something to a person.

She had changed, here in Neverwinter. She’d known it for a while.

“Watch the broken wood,” Carter Lannis said, appearing at her elbow. “Should I help you around it?”

“Everyone is watching.” May stepped carefully over the splintered boards. “I can manage.”

“Then at least let me go first.” Carter moved ahead of her and swept the path clear with his boots.

His tall frame blocked the light from the courtyard window entirely.

May couldn’t quite suppress the smile — so she turned her face away.

He’d be insufferable about it if he saw.

“Are you ready for tomorrow’s scene?” she said. “Don’t forget your lines when Miss Lorgar hits you.”

Carter winced. “Could you ask her to go a little easier on me? In the snowfield scene last time I nearly threw up. When she shifts into the wolf she’s almost as strong as Ashes. It’s monstrous.”

“Actors adapt to the play. The play doesn’t adapt to actors.” May raised an eyebrow. “And the magic movie is considerably more realistic than stage work, so you should bear that in mind. The solution is obvious: don’t eat before your scene tomorrow.”

The Chief Knight shook his head with the expression of a man who had lost an argument he hadn’t wanted to have. “Speaking of — you’ll never guess who I saw at the pier today.”

“An old lover of yours?”

“As if!” He turned around in genuine alarm, then recovered himself. “Kajen Fels.”

May stopped walking.

“I’m certain,” Carter said, reading her expression. “He’s recognizable enough — half the pier recognized him too, nearly caused a traffic jam. A whole group came off the ship with him. His troupe, I’d guess.” He grinned. “Worth something, that news. Worth a kiss, perhaps?”

“Yes,” May said, without pausing. “I want to pay him a visit.”

Kajen Fels — the name itself was a kind of institution. For thirty years, from the Southern Territory to the Northern Region, he had set the standard by which every actor measured themselves. He’d stepped back from performing years ago, but he still wrote, still directed, still held authority in the theatrical world that no one else could claim. When May had first stood on stage in front of royalty, it had been in Memoir of a Prince’s Search for Love — his play. Without Kajen’s early praise, she would never have risen so quickly.

“I knew you’d say that,” Carter said, producing a folded note from his coat. “I already found out which hotel he’s staying at. I have to supervise the craftsmen fixing the door, so I can’t come with you.”

“Thank you.” May took the note. “It doesn’t matter — I’ll bring people from the troupe.” She turned back toward the crew, still arranging props and set pieces. “Irene! Tina! Rosia! Gait! Swallow! Over here!”

Master Kajen had surely come for the coronation. When King Wimbledon III had been crowned, it was Kajen’s back-to-back performances that carried the ceremony to its height. He no longer performed himself, but his troupe remained the finest in Graycastle — Roentgen, Egrepo, all of them extraordinary in different registers. If Irene and the others could get even a few hours of guidance from people like that —

When she told them who they were going to see, Gait stammered. “Can — can we really meet Sir Kajen?”

“It shouldn’t be a problem,” May said. “But that means you’ll need to work harder afterward — don’t waste the opportunity.”

“Yes! I’ll work harder and harder!” Tina’s eyes were bright.

“Let’s go.”

They stopped at the Convenience Market for gifts, then made their way to the Whistle Inn, where a crowd had already gathered in the lobby — May’s fans, people who’d caught wind of the meeting before she had. They moved aside when she appeared. Some of them had paper and pen out; the Ministry of Public Relations and Communications made no secret of its interest in the story.

May asked at the desk and waited while the receptionist went upstairs.

When the woman returned, her face was carefully neutral.

“I’m sorry. Sir Kajen is unfamiliar with the Star Flower Troupe and has no wish to meet you. Please leave.”

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