Overwhelming Firepower

Even as the opening day drew closer, no one outside the theater knew what kind of play Lucen had written.

Nobles tried asking discreetly. Some tried bribery. A few even attempted to plant their own people among the actors and stagehands.

None of them succeeded. Harry Nidhouni’s auditions were brief, but his eyes were sharp. After only a short conversation, he seemed able to tell who was trustworthy and who was not.

And with Sir Thalos standing watch over the theater grounds, no one dared attempt anything more forceful.

When interest in the play began to wane, the bards changed their tune. New lines spread through taverns and plazas, different from before, darker, sharper, once again stirring curiosity across Norvaegard.

A handful of stagehands were dismissed soon after, quietly escorted out when it was discovered they had spoken too freely.

After that, the rehearsals only grew more intense. And then, before anyone realized how quickly time had passed, the day of the play arrived.

***

Vaelgard’s Theater House had not felt such excitement since the day it first opened, when its doors were thrown wide in honor of the First King, Richard Vaelgard.

Carriages lined the streets hours before sunset, noble crests stamped into lacquered doors and banners fluttering from polished roofs.

Knights in formal armor stood at attention as their masters disembarked, while commoners crowded the far edges of the square, craning their necks for a glimpse of the arriving elite.

It was at that moment that the Royals arrived. The arrival of the royal procession silenced the square.

Banners of red and blue unfurled from the lead carriage, the sigil of House Vaelgard embroidered in gold thread that caught the dying light of the sun. Behind it rode the Royal Guard, their armor black with crimson trim, shields polished to a mirror sheen.

King Ragnor stepped down first. He wore no crown, only a mantle in the colors of his house draped over his shoulders.

His presence alone was enough to straighten backs and still whispers. One by one, the nobles bowed, and so did the commoners.

Next to him was his wife, the queen, and their children followed behind. Harry, the director of the play, came forward and guided the royals to their seats.

The special seats that were created for the very first king and his family. They sat higher than the rest of the hall, carved from darkwood and trimmed in gold, overlooking the entire stage. From there, one could see not only the performance but the faces of every noble in attendance.

King Ragnor settled into his seat, resting one arm against the carved lion’s head at its side. His wife sat beside him, and the seats in front, which were a little lower is where the children sat.

***

Above and beside the royal seats, the ducal houses were already present.

House Judicar sat with the ease of those long accustomed to attention, their gazes fixed openly upon Marquis Valeire’s faction.

House Aeromont watched in silence. Their expressions were composed and unreadable, though a faint smile lingered on Duchess Seraphina’s lips.

Kaelvar Runescar leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, a lazy grin tugging at his face. Beside him, Medea sat perfectly composed, her presence alone enough to keep him in check. Their daughter, Elyra, observed the hall with quiet interest.

Vardon Thornehart’s presence surprised more than a few. The Iron Duke sat calmly in his seat, his posture straight and unmoving. At his side was his younger son, Cael Thornehart, attended closely by the old butler Vahn Vaern.

The Tower Masters were seated at the same elevation as the ducal houses. That detail alone made Marquis Valeire’s expression darken.

***

Marquis Valeire and his allies were seated below them, close enough to observe—but unmistakably lower.

He scoffed quietly as he took his seat, offering the attendant nothing more than a look of thinly veiled irritation.

Other marquis families sat nearby. Among them was House Crowlorne, a neutral presence amid the growing divide.

Lysette Crowlorne took her seat quietly, her expression calm, observant. Unlike many others, she did not scan the hall with impatience or curiosity. Her gaze lingered instead on the stage itself, as though weighing something unseen.

***

The commoners filled the lower seats soon after.

As with Lucen’s previous plays, their numbers far exceeded those of the nobility. Even accounting for foreign nobles who had slipped in under false names or borrowed crests, nearly eighty percent of the audience consisted of common folk.

That imbalance was deliberate. This play was not meant for whispered councils or gilded halls. It was meant to be seen by the common people.

Once the theater seats were filled, the lights dimmed gradually, and the murmurs of the audience softened to an expectant hush. A single spotlight illuminated the center of the stage, revealing nothing but a bare wooden platform.

Then, without a sound, the stage floor trembled ever so slightly, as if responding to some unseen heartbeat.

A thin ribbon of smoke spiraled upward, curling and twisting like a living thing, glowing faintly with a pale blue light that danced across the polished wooden floor.

Gasps rippled through the crowd, particularly among the children of the commoners’ seats, who pressed forward in their eagerness, eyes wide with wonder.

From the smoke emerged a figure, cloaked and hooded, its movements deliberate and precise. The figure raised one hand, and a faint hum of energy vibrated through the theater, though no instrument or voice could be heard.

The hood fell back, and the person who appeared on the stage was none other than the person talked about the most in Norvaegard, Lucen Thornehart.

”Ladies and gentlemen,” Lucen’s voice rang out, clear and confident, carrying to every corner of Vaelgard’s Theater House, ”Tonight I hope you enjoy the story I have prepared for all of you.”

Once he was done speaking, smoke burst out surrounding Lucen, and once the smoke cleared, he disappeared from everyone’s sight.

The stage then lit up as the curtains rose. A miniature city appeared before the people, created with a mixture of illusions and real props.

The play that most people would never forget was about to begin.