Chapter 1443: The Principal Takes the Stage
Somewhere in the southern reaches of Cecil, deep within the Dark Mountains, an ancient mage’s tower suddenly glowed with a faint light.
The dim magical radiance barely pierced the gloom inside the tower, casting a ghostly shimmer over the dusty tomes, scrolls, and shelves laden with spell components—artifacts seemingly sealed away in the annals of history. Amid the shifting shadows, a figure slowly materialized.
He wore the somber robes of a classical mage, his graying hair wildly tousled and tied back. Exhaustion and weariness etched deep lines across his face, as if he hadn’t rested in years. Cradling a softly glowing crystal orb, he emerged from a dark corner and paced slowly between the ancient books and wooden racks, his gaze drifting over vials of magical beast blood and bundles of enchanted herbs sealed in glass.
Suddenly, the old mage halted before a shelf. His eyes locked onto a pale purple crystal resting there. Though it wasn’t linked to any spell array, the crystal emitted a steady bluish-purple glow, mysterious runes flickering across its surface as if conveying some hidden knowledge or truth.
Shock gave way to fervor and delight on the mage’s face. He stared intently at the crystal’s strange phenomena, lips trembling before he finally broke the silence with a low, reverent voice: “Goddess of Magic… Your radiance has finally shown me the way! It’s working… the crystal is charging itself… In the name of knowledge and truth, may your light shine eternal!”
As the old mage’s impassioned words echoed through the tower, a sudden breeze stirred the air, accompanied by a low hum. The flickering shadows stretched and sharpened, and the mage’s silhouette glowed faintly white against the darkness. Behind him, a faint, sacred projection began to take shape—a blurry apparition that cast a meaningful glance his way…
“Cut! That’s a wrap—someone turn on the lights.”
A voice rang out from the edge of the dark room, shattering the tower’s eerie atmosphere. Moments later, the soft hum of magical crystal lamps powering up filled the air. Several bright lights illuminated everything: the wooden shelves, the cardboard props, the ancient books and scrolls, and the various “spell components” crafted from stage props. The rough stone walls at the room’s edge came into view—and then, as shadows flickered, the “walls” vanished entirely, revealing the projection crystals beneath and the wider interior of a film studio.
A crew member operating a magical network terminal nearby stood and gave a thumbs-up to the “old mage” at center stage. Then several others emerged from behind the projection screen, including the smiling Philm, Elven, and Findel. They approached the “old mage,” and Elven patted the actor on the arm.
“Perfect as always, Mr. Parno. Especially your expression at the end—I almost believed you were a devout believer for a moment.”
“Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Elven,” the marquis-turned-actor said, clearly flattered. A smile spread across his face as he switched off the power to the crystal orb he’d been holding. “Though honestly, I think that last line could be a bit more… ‘rich.’ If it were more like a prayer, I think—”
Before he could finish, a melodious female voice interrupted from nearby: “No need to change it. I think it’s just fine as is.”
Parno turned toward the voice and saw a strikingly tall woman in an elegant black gown, smiling warmly. Though they’d worked together for some time, he still felt an overwhelming presence radiating from her.
Parno didn’t know much about this woman’s background. All he knew was that Philm, Elven, and Findel—the three gentlemen—held “Miss Mina,” the lead actress in the new production, in the highest regard.
To be honest, as a veteran actor once renowned in the Old Capital, Parno never quite understood why Mina commanded such respect from the three. Her acting was natural but lacked the technical polish of a truly skilled performer. She often made jaw-dropping comments about the character of the “Goddess of Magic,” yet the three men not only accepted her eccentric views but had even revised the script based on her suggestions. It was baffling—truly baffling.
And then there was the question: was Mina really a professional actress? Parno found himself wondering this every time. He didn’t claim to know every actor in the country, but someone as imposing as her would surely have made a name for herself on stage, no matter her skill level. Yet he’d never heard of her before.
Still, since even Philm endorsed her, Parno kept his doubts to himself. He respected Philm as the creator of the magical shadow play and trusted his judgment.
“Well, that’s it for this morning,” Elven’s cheerful voice broke Parno’s wandering thoughts. “Mr. Parno, this afternoon we’ll shoot the ‘Inspired Interpretation’ and ‘Shadow’ scenes. Take a break, grab something to eat, and get familiar with the upcoming lines and script. Meanwhile, we’ll discuss a few shots with Miss Mina.”
“Understood, Mr. Elven.” Parno smiled, bowed slightly, and headed toward the actors’ lounge. The crew began packing up in an orderly fashion.
The “ancient mage’s dwelling” set, crafted from various props, quickly fell silent. Only the three young men and the towering Miss Mina remained.
Only then did Philm finally exhale, glancing awkwardly at Mylmina with a forced smile. “Um… thank you for your hard work.”
“No trouble at all. I only had two scenes this morning, and both were just standing in the background behind illusions, daydreaming. Much easier than writing reports for the Council,” Mylmina waved off the praise casually, her tone easygoing. “You guys, though—you’ve been so busy lately, and you still have to figure out how to guide a complete novice like me…”
“Ahem, please don’t say that,” Philm coughed nervously. “It’s… it’s my honor. I’m hardly qualified to guide you—I’m just a mortal…”
The young creator of the magical shadow play stumbled over his words, but it was understandable. Who could have imagined such a thing? He’d only accepted the Divine Authority Council’s commission to produce a shadow play about the gods. He went to consult some experts on the Goddess of Magic, and the very next day, the goddess herself appeared—insisting on “playing herself.” Even when Elven and Findel had him drunk last year, he never would have dreamed of this.
Even now, recalling it felt like a dream. But the fact remained: on set, he could look up and see this giant, beautiful woman wandering about, full of curiosity—asking about the filming equipment, chatting with the crew about things ordinary people would consider common knowledge. To an uninformed bystander, it might seem odd, but to him, the insider, it was exhilarating.
Compared to handling Miss Mina, filming “Master of All Magic” was the easiest part of his job. After all, the most difficult and specialized parts were being handled directly by the “deity” herself…
“Don’t worry about being a ‘mortal’ here, little one,” Mylmina said with a knowing smile, sensing Philm’s embarrassment.
She found it amusing. When she and Old Lu had been holed up in the Rebellious Courtyard with nothing to do, she’d spent over twenty hours a day binge-watching magical shadow plays. Many of those plays were created by this talented young mortal, whose creativity and imagination had left a deep impression on her.
And now, that gifted young man stood before her, looking so flustered and awkward.
“I hope you don’t find the shadow play production site too chaotic or noisy,” Philm finally composed himself but still looked sheepish. He glanced at the set, now fully exposed under the lights, and the bare background revealed by the holograms being turned off. He shook his head helplessly. “Every glamorous stage hides this kind of mess behind the scenes. It’s probably not what you imagined…”
“On the contrary, I find it all very interesting,” Mylmina laughed. “I’ve seen many of your shadow plays and have long been fascinated by what goes on behind the scenes. And speaking of glamorous stages…”
The tall woman paused, then gave a complex smile and shook her head gently. “If you knew what lies behind the most dazzling divine realms, you wouldn’t say that.”
Philm was momentarily puzzled by the goddess’s sudden reflection, but she clearly didn’t intend to dwell on the topic. She quickly changed the subject.
“Let’s not talk about that. What about the next steps in filming? The process is non-linear, right? We can start shooting some of the later scenes first?”
“Yes,” Philm nodded eagerly, visibly more at ease now that the conversation was back in his element. “The filming of a shadow play differs from the final product the audience sees, and it’s not like traditional stage performances—we can adjust the shooting order as needed. According to the plan, we’ll finish the last few scenes first, mainly due to scheduling. Um… the last few scenes… about those…”
Philm spoke smoothly for a moment, then suddenly faltered, his expression awkward and hesitant once again.
Before Mylmina could say anything, Findel nudged Philm’s arm and whispered, “Don’t freeze up—keep going. What about the last few scenes?”
“It goes like this—the final scenes are ‘The Fall of the Goddess’ and ‘The Funeral’…” Philm said with a strange expression, carefully watching Milmina’s face as he spoke. “The main points are… one, the goddess falls, and the other is… uh, scattering the… scattering the ashes or something…”
Then he saw the goddess of magic herself light up with an unusually joyful and eager look. “Oh! So that’s the big moment?”
Philm blinked. “…Huh?”
“The fall and the ash scattering, right? No problem with those,” Milmina said cheerfully. “I’ve actually practiced the fall scene several times in private, with all kinds of special effects. When the time comes, I’ll show you an illusion version first, and you can pick which one you like best. Then I’ll perform it for real. As for scattering the ashes…”
The ‘goddess of magic’ paused thoughtfully. “Honestly, scattering ashes is tricky to act out, but I can give it a try…”
“No need to act it out!” Seeing the goddess’s thoughts veer off into strange territory, Philm finally blurted out. “We’ve got props ready!”
“Oh, props? That makes sense…” Milmina’s face lit up with realization, then she smiled. “Got it. So I’m in charge of scattering the ashes, right?”
Philm was speechless.
The young founder of the Shadowplay troupe couldn’t help but think: goddesses are truly unpredictable—retirement only makes it worse…
After some discussion, “Miss Mina” finally left satisfied, leaving the three young men staring at each other in stunned silence. The quiet, slightly awkward atmosphere stretched on for who knows how long before Philm’s voice finally broke the silence. “I’m definitely having a drink when I get home…”
“Count me in,” Eleven exhaled softly. “There were several moments when I felt like my heart was being put to the test.”
He shook his head and added helplessly, “My father would never believe what I’m actually doing…”
“I don’t even dare let my aunt know what I’m up to,” Findel said with a wry smile, spreading his hands. “If she found out I got a rare long leave but spent it all on shadow plays instead of going home… she’d probably freeze me out on the castle roof until the break’s over.”
“Is it really that bad?” Philm looked at his friend in surprise. “I thought Duchess Victoria wasn’t that opposed to you doing shadow plays. Didn’t she even watch one with us last time…?”
“The problem isn’t the shadow plays,” Findel sighed. “It’s that I’m not going home. She says she’s found a very good match for me—you know me, I have my own ideas about that…”
“I don’t think that’s the real problem,” Eleven Franklin cut in mercilessly before Findel could finish. “The biggest issue is that last time you were talking to Duchess Victoria, you said, ‘You haven’t gotten married either, have you?’”
Findel was speechless.
Philm quietly took a couple of steps away.
“Why are you moving so far away?” Findel asked.
“I’m pretty sure Duchess Victoria is about to ride a dragon over here from the Northlands,” Philm said seriously. “I’m just trying to avoid getting splattered with blood.”
(Oh, man!)
(End of chapter)