Chapter 172: New Drama
“Class dismissed.”
“Good-bye, Teacher.” The children’s voices joined and separated, the words dissolving into the sound of chairs scraping and small feet on the stone floor. Irene watched them file out and felt, as she did every time, the particular satisfaction of a thing she had once thought impossible having become ordinary.
She had applied to teach the day after Ferlin submitted her paperwork. She had expected weeks of bureaucratic consideration. The permit had arrived the next morning.
The building had been a noble’s residence before the Months of Demons; now the interior walls were gone and the space reorganized into teaching rooms that could hold four to six classes simultaneously, children during the day and adults in the evening. The textbooks were thorough in a way she hadn’t expected — whole chapters on classroom management, on how to keep a room of small children oriented toward the same thing at the same time. The author had clearly accumulated years of failures in rooms exactly like this one.
She was locking up when she saw Ferlin waiting at the gate.
He was not wearing his armor, which he hadn’t worn since their arrival. Leather clothes and no regalia, and still — she thought this every time — exactly himself. Tall and exact in his proportions, the Morning Light, the First Knight of the Western Territory. Unadorned, still him.
She went to him and he held her. He was worried about something — she felt it in the way he held her, not quite present.
“What happened?”
“His Highness has invited us for refreshments,” Ferlin said. “This afternoon.”
She understood immediately. She patted his back. “He has never seen me, Ferlin. And you’ll be there.”
“Yes,” he said, more firmly than the situation required. “I will.”
They were shown into the reception hall and didn’t wait long before Roland Wimbledon entered — grey-haired, simply dressed, accompanied by a woman of perhaps thirty who carried herself with the specific quiet authority of someone who managed a great deal and drew no attention to it.
Scroll. Head of the Ministry of Education. Ferlin had mentioned her name; they had apparently met.
Roland sat and waved them toward the food without ceremony. “There’s no need to be uncomfortable. I’m not hosting you for etiquette.”
They sat. Ferlin thanked Scroll for expediting Irene’s teaching permit, and Scroll nodded with a precision that suggested she processed expressions of thanks the same way she processed invoices — filed, acknowledged, done.
“This is about education,” Roland said, after the initial pleasantries had run their course. “I heard you worked at Longsong’s theater. Were you a performer?”
Irene blinked. No one in an official context had ever asked her this directly. “Officially, only once.”
“Every weekend, in the town square, there will be a performance,” Roland said, making no particular introduction to the subject. “Script, staging, and direction are arranged. I need performers. Your schedule has space, and you have experience on the stage.” He looked at her with a directness that was not unkind. “I’d like you to be the lead. There’s a salary supplement. Would you like to join?”
She was nodding before she had fully processed the sentence.
Ferlin read the first two scripts that evening while Irene read the third.
He read Cinderella — a peasant girl and a prince, love improbably persisting against the entire logic of inheritance — and set it down slowly. Then The Rooster Crows at Midnight, which was about serfs. Serfs who reached the end of what they could bear and did something about it. He read the scene where they put the minor lord in a bag and then read the scene where a passing witch intervened and then read the ending, where a foreign lord bought all the serfs and promoted them to free people, and set that one down too.
No nobility in Border Town except Sir Pine and Roland himself. Who would protest?
“Ferlin.” Irene looked up from the third book. The candle was nearly gone. “You should read this one.”
“What is it?”
“Three witches,” she said. “Each of them starting from a different place. One abandoned, one used, one—” She paused, choosing the right word. “One loved. And the story follows all three at once, in turns, until they meet. And then the Church comes and—” She put the book down carefully. “I dare say even in Redwater City this would fill a theater. The narrative technique alone—”
“Scroll wrote it?”
“Roland and Scroll together, I think. The style is — it’s like three mirrors, each showing the others from the side.”
Ferlin held the book for a moment without opening it. He was thinking about what would happen when people saw this performed. What conclusions they might reach about witches. About the Church. About the nature of the women the Church had been calling fallen.
“Doesn’t it contradict — everything?”
“No.” Irene looked at him steadily. “What if it was me? If I became a witch — would you think I was evil?”
“Of course not,” he said. Immediately. “Never.”
“And our daughter, if we had one?”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked at his wife, who had waited twenty years to stand on a stage properly, who had burned with it quietly and said nothing about it, who was now holding three scripts written by a prince of the realm and had in the space of one afternoon become a lead performer — and understood what she was telling him, underneath the question.
He got down on one knee.
“If we had a daughter who was a witch,” he said, “I would do exactly what the father in the third story does. I would take care of her.”
Irene set the book down.
“Good answer,” she said. Then she smiled. “I think we can try now.”
“As you bid,” he said, and picked her up.
Chapter 172 New Drama
“That’s all for today class dismissed.”
“Good-bye teacher,” the little girls said in unison.
Irene closed the textbooks and watched how the children all walked away from the classroom. The building the class was held in had previously belonged to a former aristocratic residence, but after the Months of Demons it had been seized by the Prince, and it has now been converted into this college. fourth
The walls separating the small rooms upstairs and downstairs had been removed, changing the layout of the building into several larger rooms, which were able to accommodate four to six batches of students at the same time. According to the teaching material these batches were called “classes”. During the day, classes were held for children and at night they would be teaching the adults.
She had at first thought that it would take the City Hall a very long time before they would give an answer to her application for becoming a teacher, never really expecting that the day after Ferlin had submitted her application, she would already have obtained her permit. She had only needed to go to the City Hall to register her position, receive the teaching materials, and obtain a list of her assigned students.
She was responsible for teaching elementary knowledge to the children of the townspeople. She had spent a lot of effort on making sure that this group of little devils would listen to her lecture. Within the teaching materials, there was also a whole chapter dedicated on how to maintain the discipline in the classroom. The tricks that were described were totally eye-opening to her.
In addition to the traditional oral criticism and using rattan for corporal punishment, there were also other excellent options that were discussed. For
example, dividing them into small groups, to establishment a class leader and monitor, who would be responsible for controlling them and so on.
The person who wrote the textbook, must certainly be a senior who has spent many years studying on how to teach, in order for him to take such care when describing of all of these problems, right?
Leaving the college, Irene saw her own personal knight Ferlin was waiting for her.
He was no longer dressed in his shiny armor, together with its lion crest embroidered shield and sword, but even without it, he was still a very handsome man. His simple leather clothes brought out his tall and straight figure, coupled with the clear lines of his facial features, even with his empty hands, he was still the Morning Light that she remembered.
After giving him a hug, Irene noted that Ferlin seemed a little worried.
So, she asked, “What’s happened?”
“…” For a moment Ferlin hesitated, “His Royal Highness the Prince invited us this afternoon to enjoy some refreshments in the palace.”
Irene was rooted in place from the shock, “Us?” She could immediately guess what her husband was worried about. She patted his back then shook her head, “His Royal Highness has never seen me before, how could he be the same as the Duke… besides, won’t you also be there?”
“That’s right,” Ferlin firmly nodded. “This time, I’ll protect you.”
That afternoon, Irene who was now dressed, and deliberately wearing a decent dress, with her husband went together to the Lord’s Castle.
They didn’t have to wait for long after a guard led them into the reception hall and a gray-haired man then appeared at the entrance. There was no doubt that he was the Lord of the Western Territories, Lord Roland Wimbledon.
He was accompanied by a Lady who seemed to be around thirty years or just slightly older, who carried a calm and capable attitude but was still full of
charm. From her facial features, it was clear that she must have been an outstanding beauty back when she was still younger. Seeing the Prince enter, Irene and Ferlin quickly stood up, bending into a bow.
“Welcome, Mister and Madam Eltek,” Roland sat at the seat of the Lord, “On the table there are only the finest culinary foods of the palace, do not hesitate to enjoy yourself, there is no need for you to be uncomfortable.”
“Thank you for your invitation to come here to enjoy the refreshments, it will be our pleasure,” Ferlin replied in accordance with the noble’s etiquette.
“The name of the lady at my side is Scroll, she is also the head of the Ministry of Education in the City Hall, I believe you should already have met with her previously.”
“Indeed,” he nodded, and then he turned towards Scrolls and nodded thankfully. “Until now I haven’t thanked you, without your permission, Irene would never have become a teacher so quickly.”
So it was all because of her help, Irene thought, casting a grateful smile to her.
After leisurely chatting for a while, Ferlin tentatively asked, “I wonder why His Royal Highness has called us to be here today, may I perhaps know the reason for it?”
“This is related to education,” Roland paused, looking to Eileen. “I heard you used to work in the theater of Longsong Stronghold. Were you a theater actor?”
“Er…” Irene never expected that the Prince would direct the question directly at herself, “Officially I have only performed once.”
“In that case, I am going to have a play at the town square every weekend,” the Prince said directly. “As for the script, the screenwriting, and the conductor, I have already arranged for all of them; I’m only in need of performers. And since you don’t have so many classes and have already played in a drama, I want you to become the star of the performance. Of
course, there will be an additional salary for all of your work. I wonder if you would care to join?”
“…” Irene looked at the Prince with big round eyes, unable to believe what she had just heard, without even bothering to ask whether he was making fun of her, she nodded excitedly, “Your Honored Highness, I would really like that!”
Standing on the stage has always been her dream, but after leaving the theater in Longsong Stronghold, she knew that she might never again get the chance to play in a theater. But in front of Ferlin, she had never expressed this regret. Instead, she had buried her desire deep within her heart. But on this day, she unexpectedly got the chance to return to the stage. What more could she hope for?
“These plays will be performed for the masses to see, so my request from the actors won’t be high, it will be enough as long as they can deliver the story clearly. Maybe you have some friends in the theater of Longsong Stronghold who would also fulfill the conditions, who would want to go on stage, but never had the chance? If you could write a letter to them, telling them that we will have a performance each weekend and that the payment will be the same as for the stronghold’s theater.”
“I know a lot of them,” Irene said happy, “I’ll write to them the moment I go back home, I think they’ll be happy to get the chance to come and perform in Border Town!”
“All right,” Roland handed three books to her, “These are the scripts, they each have a number on their cover. Your performance will start with the first story. The content of it has been revised by Scrolls, and it should be very in line with the life of normal people. You can take these books back with you and read through them carefully. If there is something you do not understand, you can come to Scroll and ask.”
“Yes, Your Highness, thank you!” Irene bowed.
…
“Was that all right?” Scrolls later asked, “Do you think that all of those stories should really appear?”
“What is your concern? Do you believe that in their eyes, the Prince could never write such vulgar stuff.” Roland stretched his body, “And without your last modified polishing, the script could never have been completed in such a short period of time.”
“I do not think the story is too vulgar,” Scrolls shook her head. “Although I do not know why you know so clearly about this, these are topics that concern the people. They are quite touching and thought-provoking, so the show will definitely be very popular.”
Of course, they will be popular, Roland thought, the first two scripts were modified versions of “Cinderella” and “The Rooster Crows at Midnight”, and had already been well-tested by the audience. The former describes a touching love story between a civilian and a member of the royal family, while the latter was about people of the lowest rank and their struggles against the unscrupulous landlord.
Of course, he had adapted them to the local conditions, such as changing the good fairy in Cinderella into a witch, and the landlord in The Rooster Crows at Midnight also become a fierce little aristocrat. Roland intended to achieve a far-reaching and long-lasting impact with his first two plays before he could release his third work, “The Diary of a Witch”, which his true purpose.
This script had been completely written by him. It told the story of three children who all became witches, but each of their lives went in completely different directions. Instead of directly referring to the Church, he focused his attention on the fateful journey of these three girls: one girl had been abandoned by her parents, another girl had become a tool for others, and the last one was lucky and had parents who still loved her, and then gave their own life to protect their daughter.
Eventually, the three women would meet with each other by chance, help each other to prevail over those who want to sentence them to death, and would try to blend in with the ordinary people to find their own happiness.
Roland intended to make the Diary of a Witch into a series, and with the help of the three views, he would reshape how the outside world would look at witches. With the twists and turns of the touching drama, imparting in them the thought that any of their relatives could become a witch, and it had nothing at all to do with the Devil.
TN: Cinderella, The Rooster crows at Midnight