Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 774 - 773: Your Aunt Will Always Be Your Aunt

How is this story...

As the roster of actors continued to roll on the holographic projection on stage, Earl Balin bowed his head, seriously contemplating how to respond to Duchess Victoria Wilder’s question.

The Duchess seemed to quite enjoy this new form of drama known as "Magic Shadow Theater," or perhaps she was interested in certain things it conveyed.

But after a few seconds of contemplation, Earl Balin gave up on the idea of praising or echoing and honestly conveyed his feelings: "It’s something entirely new. Simply speaking of its form, it’s very novel. But as for the story... I can’t quite ’appreciate’ it, nor can I resonate with the characters in the play."

This was the most direct thought of an aristocrat who had seen many dramas upon first encountering the Magic Shadow Theater.

"Yet, even so, it remains an astonishing thing," Earl Balin added after a brief pause, "not merely because those creating it thought to place ’drama’ on the Magic Web Terminal’s projection, but more so because of its script... I don’t know who wrote such a script, but it certainly couldn’t be a well-known playwright; they wouldn’t have written something like this."

"The script, huh..." Victoria Wilder murmured thoughtfully, her gaze settling on the large holographic projection on stage. The actor roster had finished, and names of the creators were now appearing, the first being the scriptwriter, "Philem... indeed not a famous playwright."

Just as she finished speaking, Philem’s name faded, and the next name appearing caused the Duchess’s eyes to change subtly.

Fendil Weld—followed by Elywen Franklin.

"This..." Earl Balin saw the name as well, and his expression turned subtle, feeling slightly unsure as he looked at the Duchess, "Perhaps it is..."

He intended to say it was a namesake but realized it was impossible—having the same name was one thing, but how could they have the same surname? The Protectorate Duke’s surname was not something that repeated!

Victoria sat expressionless, her gaze gradually shifting to one side of the hall. Clearly, she had already sensed familiar Magic Power auras around her. She simply hadn’t expected a certain name to appear on the stage’s holographic projection.

After a few seconds of unbearable silence and cold, the Northern Guard suddenly stood up and walked towards a small door on the right side of the hall.

Meanwhile, in the vast screening hall, applause continued to resound...

...

Listening to the sounds coming from the neighboring hall, Philem, who had been tense for over two hours, finally couldn’t resist exhaling deeply. The young blond man from the north felt a weight slowly lift from his heart, calming him after more than ten seconds before he began to speak softly to himself, "Finally... I can give my father an answer."

"You can also give that ’Mountain Ridge Flower’ an answer," Fendil couldn’t help but smile, patting Philem’s shoulder quite hard, "It’s a truly brilliant achievement, one worth boasting of no matter who it’s attributed to."

Philem blushed and seemed slightly awkward, "I..."

Fendil couldn’t resist laughing loudly, "Don’t be so tense, my friend. Pursuing love is something to be proud of and is perfectly natural."

Clearly, the mood of this heir to the northern regions was exceptionally joyful at the moment. Anyone who achieves abundant results after long efforts would feel this way, even someone well-educated and destined to inherit the position of the Duke of the North—this joyfulness even made him briefly forget the vague tension and unease that had recently loomed over him, leaving him purely happy.

Gawain withdrew his gaze from a small window facing the interior of the screening hall; his mood was also good, and within it was more mixed with thoughts compared to Philem and the others.

The Magic Shadow Theater’s great success proved that this new form of spiritual entertainment was extremely popular. The effects it could produce and the prospects for its development were worth anticipating, all things that had been predicted long ago.

More valuable than the influence of this piece "Immigration" was the experience gained by the Administrative Office and the specific creators of the Magic Shadow Theater. With a successful experience as a reference, Gawain’s following numerous plans could be smoothly implemented.

The first plan was to produce more Magic Shadow Theaters showcasing Cecil Style life, Cecil Style ways of thinking, and the magical industrial age, promoting them domestically and finding ways to infiltrate Typhon. Using the newly signed trade agreement, let the merchants bring Magic Shadow Theaters to Aldernon...

The second plan was still a vague and generalized idea, mainly related to the promotion of the New Holy Light Church and the "adornment" of Old Gods’ beliefs.

The applause continued to echo, with many seemingly unwilling to leave the screening hall, still immersed in the novel viewing experience and the stories that moved them: After today, "Immigration" might become a hot topic in Cecil Castle and even the entire southern borders for a long time, spawning a series of new terms, new job opportunities, new concepts.

Gawain pondered those long-term plans but abruptly felt a gaze fall upon him.

Following the sensation, he found Amber’s bright eyes looking at him.

"What’s up?" Gawain looked down at himself, "Is there something on me?"

"Relax your mind occasionally; don’t expend all your energy on planning," Amber rare seriousness was expressed—though her latter words still made one want to pin her to the wall, "Even when watching a play, you calculate ten years ahead. Aren’t you afraid you’ll worry yourself to death in this lifetime?"

Gawain was slightly taken aback, a sense of helplessness and self-mockery involuntarily arising in his heart.

He had actually been taught by this half-elf—and without any temper.

He indeed plotted too much, even making planning into instinct, reducing everything to calculations.

When hundreds or thousands could sit back and enjoy a story, he only thought about how many Typhon people this story could turn into "hearts longing for Cecil," calculating the value this new thing could generate, what purpose it served.

But this happened to be what he must do, what must be done by him—when he decided to create a new order, he was destined to lose the right to enjoy certain things within this new order.

Fortunately, thanks to Amber, that big-mouthed person, for the reminder, he was able to wake himself up again—never forget the essential meaning of these new things when they first came into being.

"It’s indeed a good play, worth sitting down to enjoy properly," Gawain finally sighed, the slightly serious expression on his face from deep thought was quickly replaced by a relaxed smile. He first smiled and looked at Amber, then towards the door of the observation room, "Also, we have guests coming."

No sooner had he spoken than there was a knock at the door.

Amber and Mr. Philem immediately looked curiously at the iron door, and the cheerful Fendil, who was making jokes with friends, also turned his bright face towards the door, his tone rising: "Oh, a visitor, let me see which interesting frie...frie..."

An attendant stepped forward to open the door, and Duchess Victoria Wilder appeared at the entrance along with several noblemen in casual attire and their escorts.

Fendil’s bright smile froze in an instant, as if struck by the "Cold Disaster," turning stiff and motionless, with the following words seemingly squeezed out of his bronchial tubes: "Aun...Aunt..."

Duchess Victoria, however, seemed not to see this nephew she had raised, and first walked up to Gawain, paying impeccable homage: "I salute you, Your Majesty—I’m sorry to have appeared before you under such inadequate circumstances."

"It’s no bother, I already knew you were coming," Gawain said while sitting in his chair, nodding with a smile, and also responding to the salutes from the others, "I just didn’t expect you would come to watch this first ’Magic Shadow Drama,’ I guess this must be a coincidence."

"Indeed, it’s a coincidence," Victoria’s always cold face showed a slight hint of a smile, but it quickly turned cold again after her gaze fell on Fendil, "Fendil, you’re here...is it also a coincidence?"

"I..." Fendil’s stiff smile just started to ease but became stiff again. This young man from the north, who was always smiling brightly, found it hard to smile in front of Victoria. He looked around, his vision sweeping past Gawain, and finally organized some words, "I came here with His Majesty to inspect this..."

"Ahem," Earl Balin, standing not far away, couldn’t help but cough lightly as a reminder, "Marquis Fendil, there was a list at the end..."

Fendil: "..."

"Displaying the names of all the actors and crew at the end was a good idea, very in line with the characteristics of Magic Projection, a similar part never existed in traditional theater before," Victoria said expressionlessly, "Whose idea was it?"

Fendil: "...It was mine, Aunt."

"In your last letter, you said you had entered the Imperial Academy, fully devoting your energy to your studies, and that you had achieved some accomplishments by using your talents..." Victoria looked into Fendil’s eyes and spoke unhurriedly, "So...you were actually researching how to produce drama with someone?"

Gawain remained silent, just sitting quietly on the side with a smile, conveying through his actions the intention of "please continue," his smile very content.

Amber even took out some sunflower seeds from a small pouch she carried with her.

Fendil also noticed the emperor and the intelligence director’s obviously gleeful attitude, a cold sweat already forming on his forehead.

After several seconds of awkward and tense silence, Fendil, knowing the duchess usually had little patience, finally went for broke and broke the silence with a heart thawed after spring: "Aunt, I indeed did some things... that I didn’t mention in the letter, and producing drama may not quite fit a noble’s identity, but in my view, it’s a very meaningful thing, especially in a place full of new things, in a place with a new order, some old concepts must..."

Victoria didn’t wait for Fendil to finish and interrupted him with a cold and indifferent tone: "Did I say you did poorly?"

Fendil: "...Ah?"

Victoria’s ice-blue eyes were devoid of any emotion: "I’m just confirming whether or not this new style of drama truly involves you—the Wilder family must be honest."

Gawain slightly tilted his head and whispered to Amber, who was eating sunflower seeds: "I thought she wouldn’t joke or tease at all."

"Actually, the more expressionless they are, the better they are at joking and teasing," Amber murmured in response, "You can’t tell from their expression changes which part they’re joking with you about."

Gawain thought for a moment, feeling that Amber’s words made a lot of sense, then he clapped his hands to break the slight tension in the room with a smile: "Victoria, no need to be so harsh on the younger generation. It’s good for young people to try more things, as long as they’re not too reckless; they should be straightforwardly encouraged."

Victoria withdrew her gaze from Fendil and slightly bowed her head before Gawain: "Yes, Your Majesty."

A noticeable exhale came from not far away at that moment.

The person breathing heavily was Mr. Philem standing behind Fendil.

This young man from a northern town and a civilian family had nearly suffocated in the tense atmosphere just now.

"Let me do the introductions," Gawain stood up with a smile, without any airs, as he started the introductions, "This is Mr. Philem, the genius behind that splendid Magic Shadow Drama—his work has received hefty support from the royal family.

"This is Duchess Victoria Wilder, one of my deeply trusted Grand Governors, a protector of the north.

"As for the others...introduce yourselves."

Earl Balin and the others, surprised by Philem’s youth, were closely observing him. Upon hearing Gawain’s words, they no longer cared about aristocratic restraint or supposed decorum and introduced themselves one after another.

Listening to each title, Philem was momentarily dazed...