Chapter 173: Irene’s Wish
The walk home from the castle, Ferlin noticed, was more dancing than walking.
He had watched Irene arrange her expression carefully through the meeting, watched her wait for the right moment to respond to Roland’s offer with appropriate composure, watched that composure hold exactly long enough for them to exit the reception hall. Then, on the street, it had dissolved into something he hadn’t seen on her face since their wedding day.
He fell a step behind and let her have it.
At home, she retreated to the scripts with a candle and didn’t look up again.
He cooked — meat porridge, fried eggs, sausage, because it was the kind of day that deserved something deliberate for dinner. The kitchen here had a separate room for the stove, built into the wall with a chimney connection and a baffle plate that could seal when the cooking was done. He had been thinking about this design since he first saw it, turning its implications over: no smoke in the living room, no summer heat buildup, no smell bleeding through the house all day. Small, but the accumulation of small things that worked was what made a house a home rather than a building you slept in.
He called her for dinner. She came, ate without really tasting it, and went back to the scripts.
He read the first two after she fell asleep over the third. Cinderella first — a prince and a peasant girl, the logic of hereditary rank somehow less than the logic of love. The good fairy was a witch. He read that detail twice, set the book down, considered it. Picked it up again. The Rooster Crows at Midnight: serfs reaching the end of their endurance, a minor lord getting put in a bag, a passing witch interceding, and at the end, a wise foreign lord purchasing the serfs’ freedom.
He was still thinking about both when the candle Irene had been reading by guttered and she looked up.
“How are they?” he asked.
“Cinderella,” she said, “the prince loves a peasant girl, and the most remarkable part isn’t the love — it’s that he doesn’t waver. Not once. The whole story I was expecting the moment where it breaks, where practical reality forces the compromise, and it never comes.” She looked at the wall, not at him, working through it. “And then when he finds her again and puts the crystal shoe on her foot — the whole scene, I couldn’t help wanting to applaud. In the theater, the entire house would applaud.”
“And the second?”
“Simpler. Two or three scenes for the whole arc, probably. But that scene—” She meant the serfs. He had known she would mean the serfs. “—reading it, something breaks open. You can feel them deciding. Not anger, something quieter and more final. And then when the noble comes for them—” She pressed both hands flat on the table. “The theater would erupt.”
Ferlin had been thinking the same thing. No noble audience in Border Town. No pressure from the titled class. The audience would be common people, workers, former serfs themselves — people who would see their own history on that stage and hear it described as the right thing, the justified thing, the thing that should have happened sooner.
Roland intended these plays as ideology, he thought. He had always intended them that way.
“Ferlin.” Irene set the third script down and looked at him directly. “The third one is something else.”
“Scroll wrote it?”
“With His Highness, I think. But the voice—” She shook her head. “Three witches. Three starting points. The story follows each of them in sequence, but their choices affect each other without them knowing it, until they finally meet and then face the Church together.” She picked the book up again, turned it over in her hands. “I don’t know another writer in the kingdom who has written this way. Even Kadin Faso—”
“Kadin Faso,” Ferlin said, and she fixed him with a look.
“Even Kadin Faso. His Rose and his Prince stories are beautiful and they are finished by the time they arrive — everything in its place, nothing left to discover. This story makes you feel, reading it, that something is still happening. That it hasn’t closed.” She was quiet for a moment. “The third witch. Her parents find out and they don’t abandon her. Her father spends everything he has to protect her. And because of their care, she’s able to develop her ability fully, and eventually she discovers that the demonic bite was — was never real. It’s a lie. It was always a lie.”
Ferlin put the book down.
“He isn’t afraid of the Church coming,” he said.
“No.” Irene looked at him. “Ferlin. What if it were me? If I became a witch—”
“You could never be evil,” he said. Immediately. No hesitation on this.
“And our daughter?”
He saw what she was doing, and saw it clearly: not an abstract argument but a specific test, asked at a specific moment, with a specific answer required. He thought about the father in the third story — the knight who knelt in front of his daughter’s ability and did not flinch.
He got down on one knee.
“If I were that father,” he said, “I would be exactly what he was.”
Irene smiled. Not the theater smile, not the public smile. The one he had married.
“That’s the right answer,” she said. She stood. “I think we can try now.”
He stood with her and, without particularly planning to, said: “As you bid, my dear,” which he had never said before in his life and which sounded, to his own ear, exactly correct, and picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.
Chapter 173 Irene’s wish
When the two of them had returned home, Ferlin shook his head and reluctantly asked, “Couldn’t you have told His Highness that you would need a few days to consider the offer and before you could give an answer?”
On the way home, it had seemed that she was dancing rather than just merely walking. I’m afraid to say that the last time I’ve seen her so happy, was on the day of our wedding.
“That just wouldn’t do,” Irene stuck out her tongue, “Doing that would make it impossible for me to fall asleep at night.”
That was the way she was, her love for the theater was so strong that she could often be seen practicing her lines at the stronghold’s theater even during midnight. If it hadn’t been for the Duke, she could have already turned from the flower of the theater not only in name but also in reality, into star of the show. theater. Thinking about this, he hugged his wife from behind and whispered into her ear, “I’m sorry, dear.”
“…” Irene patted his head comfortingly, “It wasn’t your fault, he transferred you to other cities, there was no way you could have stopped him.” Softly laughingly she continued, “If you want to waste your time apologizing, you should go into the kitchen and cook something, I would like to take a look at the scripts before anything else.”
“That’s alright, I’ll do it.” Ferlin gently kissed her earlobe, “I’m going to make meat porridge, fried eggs, and a sausage to celebrate.”
In many ways the new home had been furnished differently compared to their old home. For example, the cooking stoves, in Longsong Stronghold, whether it were the aristocrats or the civilians, would all have an open stove in their main living room, while in their new home, they had a separate room for the oven.
The stove was surrounded by walls on three sides, with the backside of the stove directly connecting to the chimney. The intersection was even provided with a baffle plate which could be shifted horizontally, and when it was not needed anymore could then be closed, preventing the smoke from the other tenants from coming out of their stove.
Ferlin could easily think of several advantages with the new design, for example after closing the door, the living room also wouldn’t be affected by the cooking fume or scent, and during the summer the stove also wouldn’t increase the indoor temperature any further.
After filling it with firewood and wood chips, the flames soon started to rise, and he could now fully start concentrating on making tonight’s dishes.
After having dinner, Irene continued delving into the scripts and she was only able to put the third book aside after the candle had reached its end.
“How are they?” Ferlin couldn’t help himself, he had to know how good the scripts were, after all, she had spent so much of her time reading them. Previous when she had still worked in the theater, she would read ten books just as thick as these in just half a day.
“Honestly… it is hard to describe,” Irene exclaimed in admiration. “All of the books are full of new ideas, I have never read these kinds of stories before. For example, in ‘Cinderella’, the prince isn’t in love with another princess, but instead he falls in love with a beautiful peasant girl. Yet this is not the most surprising part, what is surprising is that he insisted even until the very end to take the peasant girl as his wife.
“I even got to the point where I started to think, maybe the Prince has never read this story himself, if that is not so shouldn’t the incredible odd content of the improbable couple be giving birth to dissatisfaction in his heart? Despite that, the whole story was completely exciting. I could not help wanting to applaud when the Prince finally found Cinderella again, and then slipped the crystal shoe onto her feet.
” ‘The Rooster crows at Midnight’ was also fascinating, but when compared to ‘Cinderella’ I have to say it is a lot simpler. I think two or three scenes
will be enough to show the story clearly. Furthermore, reading the paragraph where the serfs found the courage to resist the nobility was marvelous.
“After a long time of cowering, the serfs frame of mind had changed completely from where it was before, where they had to bear with it at all costs to the point of it becoming more than they could carry was all perfectly depicted in the story… the feeling that breaks out after they finally decide to resist and let their passion burst out, seems to be coming directly out of the observer’s heart!”
“Serfs fighting against the nobility?” Ferlin frowned, this was clearly something that the aristocracy would never tolerate. If the serfs of the Eltek Manor were to ever dare to raise their hoes and shovels against the housekeeper, I’m afraid my father would be showcase their heads in front of the manor’s door on the very next day. “Does His Royal Highness really want you to perform a drama like that?”
“You are only asking that, because you haven’t read the script,” Irene threw him a cold look, “after reading it, you will feel the same as I do. That they were meant to stand up and resist, and not allow themselves to be oppressed any longer.
“The small lordling’s bullying has become intolerable, so he now had to face the importance of human life. In the end, they still only put the noble into a bag and beat him up ruthlessly, if you ask me, they were still too restrained. Later on, in the story, when the nobles want to kill all the serfs, they were then saved by a witch that happened to be passing by.
“She then became a well-known local image for the aristocracy, reminding them of what would happen to evil people. Later on, in a debate that was taking place, a foreign lord made a wise and benevolent decision, he bought all the serfs, and then promoted them to free people! I bet the whole crowd will erupt into cheers when we get to that point.”
But, the aristocracy will certainly protest, Ferlin thought disapprovingly, and with that, the theater will then be placed under pressure from the nobility. Which will finally lead to the dissolution of the crew… Hang on, he suddenly realized that there lived no other noble in Border Town beside Sir
Pine and His Royal Highness, while the latter was even the one who formed the crew.
In other words, does His Royal Highness actually intend to only show the dramas to the civilian population? It will be impossible to even earn a few copper royals from their hand, ah. But the actor’s payment will also be the same as it was in the Longsong Stronghold, from the start it was given that this business would turn over a loss. Does His Royal Highness plan to show the dramas just for the entertainment?
“But dear,” Irene said, not noticing the changes in Ferlin’s expression, “Although the first two stories were already totally exciting, compared with the third one ‘The Diary of a Witch’, those two are nothing! I dare bet that even in Redwater City, King’s City or any other of those big cities, if they read this the theaters would start immediately recruiting a crew for it, even with special rehearsal and advance advertising! I have to say, Scrolls really is a genius writer. The book ‘The Diary of a Witch’, no matter if it is in the story’s content or its style of narrating, they are all far more advanced than any of today’s dramas.”
“Are you sure?” When Ferlin saw her solemn expression he had to fight hard not to laugh, “In Longsong Stronghold even I could often hear Mister Kadin Faso famous name, his “Delicate Rose” and “Prince seeking for Love” are works which were praised by all, even outside of our kingdom’s borders. I’ve even heard that other kingdoms have sent their own troupes to observe and learn from him, do you think that this drama could be better than any of these classic plays?”
“Of course, I’m sure. Or do you doubt my vision, dear!” She began to roughly tell him the story, “Not to mention the plot, even its narrative technique is something you have never seen before. Compared to the dramas of the past, where you listened to the story in the third party, this story focuses firmly on the perspective of the three witches for the whole time. Even though the decisions of the three of them all have a far-reaching impact on each other, they have no knowledge about this.
“But near the middle of the story, their seemingly unrelated strings finally gather together in the same place, and from then on the three witches form
one inseparable whole. I have to say, this new narrative style of developing several storylines at the same time will certainly cause a sensation without a doubt. Of course, this won’t only be restricted to Border Town, I even wonder how many people can understand what level it had reached.”
She excitedly got a pen and paper, to immerse herself into writing the letters, “That’s out of the question, I have to quickly call my theater’s partner to come over, I really want to see the surprised looks on their faces!”
Ferlin however, stepped forward to grasp her hand, “Hold on, Irene, don’t you feel… that the story is too contrary to common sense?”
After listening to his wife’s repetition, he also felt that the whole story was very exciting. Showing both the good and the evil side in humanity’s nature, that the good and evil, were both overlapping each other, but its description of the witches and the church’s interpretation were fully opposed with each other.
Moreover, its content was also too delicate. For example, the third witch due to the concern and care of her family, could release and develop her ability freely, ultimately discover that the story of the demonic bite was nothing more than a lie.
Now with the exception of their ability to control magic there was no longer any difference between the witches and the ordinary people. They also only want to laugh, cry, meet their loved ones and grieve brokenheartedly when their loved ones pass away. Is His Highness, Lord Roland not afraid that news of this will spread, is he not afraid that the Church will come?
“Violate common sense? No … Ferlin, before they become a witch, they are ordinary girls, right?”
“Well, that’s right.”
“Then what if it was me?” Irene looked with wide open eyes at Ferlin, “If I became a witch, would you think that I am evil?”
“No, of course not,” Ferlin quickly answered. “You’ll always be the good girl I know.”
“Then if we give birth to a daughter, and she became a witch?”
“Of course that would be even more impossible.” He quickly closed his mouth, suddenly understanding in his heart what his wife wanted to say to him. Evaluating an unknown witch, and one relative with whom one has lived together from morning to the night as evil, were completely different.
“Yes,” Irene nodded with satisfaction, “If we really got a witch…”
He knelt down on one knee, taking the position used when swearing allegiance and said: “In that case, I would be just like the father of the third witch within the story, like him, I would do my best to take good care of her.”
“That’s a qualified answer,” She put the quill down and laughingly said. “I think… we can try it now.”
“As you bid, my dear,” he whispered softly into her ear, only to then pick her up and walk directly into the bedroom.