Another month went by quite fast, and during this month, Lucen had advertised his play throughout Caelhart. He used the bards to sing bits and pieces of the play. This was the first time people had seen such a strategy to bring in more people to watch a play.
The style of singing was like no other they had heard before. It was different, which made a few excited.
No one in Caelhart had seen such a thing. Plays were for theaters, not for the streets. In the smoky taverns, men with red noses and unsteady legs pounded their mugs on the tables, half-slurring lines they had only heard once or twice from the bards, twisting tragedy into bawdy comedy.
On the streets, barefoot children ran between vendors with sticks clutched in their hands, swinging them like lances as they hummed the refrain in singsong voices.
Even the guards at the city gates were heard muttering verses under their breath to pass the long, dull hours. For original chapters go to novèlfire.net
Of course, there were some commoners who thought that they wouldn't be able to watch the play since it was created by a noble.
Lucen clarified that after the fifth day, the prices would drop so that even the poorer commoners could afford to watch the play. The more people who watch it, the better.
'The more I push entertainment forward, the better. Since the others will try to outshine me soon enough, more interesting things will appear. Once Stellhart and my family are secure, I need things a modern man like me would find entertaining.'
That wasn't the only thing Lucen did to promote his play; he hired someone to paint a poster of the play, which he called The Man of a Thousand Quests.
This was not the first time people had seen posters before, since there were quite a few in the pub, but those were wanted posters or some random announcements. Since most people were illiterate, showing pictures was better.
The painter had captured every line of weariness etched into the knight's face. His gauntlets looked mismatched, as though borrowed from different sets of armor, and even the dents in the breastplate had been carefully inked in.
To some, it gave him dignity, as if he were a saint walking toward his final trial. To others, it looked like mockery, an old soldier too stubborn to die.. Beneath, in bold lettering, the title:
"The Man of a Thousand Quests."
"It must be about a great knight, look at that lance. He's going to fight giants or dragons, surely."
"Nonsense. That armor's rusted through. He's a washed-up veteran, clinging to old glory."
"Or a thief wearing another man's gear."
Hearing the name of the play and the songs sung by the bards, the people started guessing what kind of person the main character was.
The bards, paid by Lucen, continued to sing a few songs from the play to promote. Now there were many commoners who were interested in watching the play.
On the nobles' side, there was not much need to advertise the play, since most nobles who were present at the Third Prince's party already knew about it.
Many of the nobles were quite excited to see what kind of play written by the Northern Duke's son would be like.
Seeing that the poster was of a middle-aged man wearing knight armor, and knowing the situation of the North, many nobles thought that it would be a story about a warrior going to his last battle.
"This might just be another retelling of Duke Edric Thornehart's tale."
"That might just be okay, since there are already many versions of Duke Edric Thornehart's story."
"I would watch it simply because it seems interesting enough."
In some candlelit feast halls, the nobles murmured over goblets of spiced wine. Their words were polite, but their eyes gleamed with something else.
To them, the play was not just entertainment. It was a message. A story chosen by the Iron Duke's son could not be separated from politics.
"A knight facing his final battle… hm, is he not speaking of the North itself?" one baron whispered, his jeweled fingers tapping against his goblet.
"Perhaps," replied another, feigning nonchalance, "or perhaps he simply wishes to flatter his father's legacy."
Those were the thoughts of most nobles, but the children at Lysette Crowlorne's tea party have a very different take on it.
"Have you heard the songs the bards are singing nowadays?"
"I haven't heard any, since most bards sing in those ghastly places called pubs."
"I heard a new bard song while shopping. The bard said it was a song for the upcoming play, Lucen Thornehart is making."
The tea party chatter bubbled with curiosity.
"I heard a bard sing about the knight slaying beasts no one else dares face," one girl scoffed, flicking her fan. "How absurd. An old man in rusted armor against ogres? He'd be trampled before he could raise his lance."
"I think that's what makes it exciting." A girl with perfect golden curls replied primly. "A knight that always charges forward no matter what, what a thrilling sight that would be."
"Thrilling? It sounds pathetic. A knight who doesn't know when to retreat isn't brave, he's foolish." Another noble child scoffed.
"My Father said that this play is just another way to glorify the North."
"Yes, my Father also said that the Thorneharts are glorified too much."
"Well, they are the ones who protect us from monster waves and barbarians. They are also the first to respond when a foreign army invades." Another noble child defended.
Despite the topic becoming a little heavy, the noble children did not seem to think so and continued drinking their tea and giggling.
Lysette, who was the hostess of the party, sat comfortably in her seat while sipping her tea, listening to everyone's opinions.
Even though to someone else the conversation might sound like children talking like they knew more than what they truly understood. But to Lysette, this was not just the opinions of the children themselves. Most of them reflect the opinions of their parents.
The way they speak, the way they react, she could see what kind of upbringing they had, what kind of conversation they have with their parents.
She could gauge which noble families like, dislike, and are neutral about Lucen Thornehart simply from listening to this supposedly childish conversation.
Lysette's lips curved faintly as she sipped her tea. This play of Lucen Thornehart's was already something more than it is. To her, it was a mirror, reflecting the hearts of nobles and commoners alike. And she intended to use that mirror well.
While she continued to listen to their conversation without saying anything, the topic suddenly changed.
"Have you heard that the other Duke heirs have been meeting Lucen Thornehart?" one girl asked with a little too much eagerness.
"That's not so surprising. Aren't we also meeting ?" another said with a light shrug, though her tone carried a faint edge of envy.
"Well, that's not the point of the rumor. It said that he had a duel with Elyra Runescar, and ended in a draw. There are many people who heard Elyra pestering Lucen to have another sparring match."
When the others heard that Lucen Thornehart was able to gain a draw against the known strongest of the younger generation, it was truly surprising.
"Does that mean there are two strongest now?" Someone suddenly asked.
"That can't be it. Maybe Elyra understimated Lucen in their first match, which resulted in the draw. The reason why Lucen Thornehart refuses to have a rematch is because he knows this."
"... Well, that does make sense."
"It's not only Elyra who has been bothering Lucen for weeks now. I heard even Mireya Aeromont meets with him every day."
"Oh my, is this perhaps a love triangle?" one girl teased, sending a wave of giggles around the circle.
"More like a love square," another added with a sly grin. "If Sir Judicar joins the fun, then what?"
"Don't be ridiculous. Lord Evander would never!" One who seemed to like Evander Judicar spoke.
Laughter broke out again, fans fluttering as cheeks flushed pink. Yet beneath the girlish teasing, Lysette caught the tension, the envy in one girl's narrowed eyes, the calculation in another's tilted smile.
Lysette hid her own smile behind her teacup.
While the entirety of Caelhart was already excited to watch the play made by Lucen. The person in question was already doing the finishing touches to his play.
Lucen leaned back in his chair, staring at the script inked in his own hand, now brought to life through weeks of rehearsal.
The costumes, the sets, even the way the torches would dim at key moments, things that would have taken months of planning and whole teams of stagehands back on Earth, were achieved here with a few enchantments and a bit of creativity.
Watching the actors practice, their voices carrying perfectly without microphones, their gestures magnified by subtle illusions. He was quite amazed by the end product and couldn't help but sigh.
'To think we're able to produce such a play, in an obvious medieval era. I guess literal magic beats CGI, in the end.'