Shepherd Wizard (Novel) - Chapter 172
Chapter 172
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After finishing the treatment and returning to Kalamaf, Turan decided to focus on internal reorganization once again.
This didn’t mean he was going to root out spies from other families like before.
Since he had already done that once recently, there wouldn’t be many more to catch if he tried again, and frequently conducting such crackdowns would be tantamount to showing that he didn’t trust his retainers.
The core of this internal reorganization was strengthening the unity of members, relieving mental fatigue, and boosting morale.
One of the methods he came up with for this purpose was theater, an entertainment medium he had enjoyed in the past.
“Here, these are the theater troupes currently staying in Kalamaf. There are about three fairly large-scale ones, and about five that are just at the level of acrobatic troupes.”
Turan nodded as he looked over the list that Asiz had compiled.
Originally, Kalamaf was too backward a city to enjoy sophisticated culture like theater, so one couldn’t expect resident theater troupes. But now that it had become the stronghold of the Parsha family, things were different.
In cities where powerful mages lived, followers would flock to them, and as the region became safer because of them, people and goods would gather, and culture would naturally develop as well.
In fact, considering that even cities ruled by vassal families like the Berk in that distant Arabion land had several theater troupes each, this could still be considered insufficient.
“But what are you planning to have the theater troupe do?”
“Theater, of course. Here, read this script first.”
Asiz’s eyes grew wider and wider as he read the parchment Turan handed him with a somewhat indifferent expression.
Even he, a theater enthusiast who had absorbed all kinds of plays for decades since coming of age, was impressed enough to exclaim at how fresh and interesting the structure of the plot was.
“What, you didn’t write this yourself, did you? The content of the play itself deals with the recent wars… was there a playwright of this caliber in our neighborhood?”
“I did write it myself. But if you’re asking whether I created it, that’s not the case. How is it, does it seem worth watching?”
“Worth watching indeed! I’m itching to see it performed myself. No, how can you even have talent for writing plays…”
“As I said before, I didn’t create it.”
Turan was a person of tremendously diverse talents, but frankly speaking, his creative abilities were only third-rate.
His writing talent wasn’t particularly outstanding, nor had he practiced creating stories much, so it was natural.
The true identity of this script was a patchwork of several famous modern plays combined with old classics from the library in Orem—particularly those that hadn’t been transmitted to modern times due to various problems.
Of course, culture naturally develops to become more stimulating and interesting as time passes, but among these lost ancient classical literature, there were many that were actually better than their modern counterparts.
Not just the plot, but the theatrical techniques as well.
This was because the foundation of current human literature consisted of old stories that the ancient Freya gods used to tell their kinfolk, based on the most culturally prosperous era.
Anyway, it would be stranger if it wasn’t interesting when he had taken a true story as the main plot and copied all the parts he thought were fun from other works and crammed them in.
Additionally, it was also thanks to the excellent literary talent of the librarian, who was a spirit and had woven this together tirelessly without even sleeping.
‘Actually, I didn’t expect it to turn out this well.’
The thousands of years spent in the library.
Mixing existing stories to create new works was one of the librarian’s pastimes, something Turan had heard in passing and remembered.
If ordinary people become masters after repeating the same thing for decades, how ordinary could the skill of someone who had done the same thing for thousands of years be?
Of course, it couldn’t compare to genius playwrights who came up with stories no one else could think of, but just making existing stories interesting by weaving them together could still be called being an excellent cook.
“Anyway, it would be great if we could get this on stage quickly. Is it possible?”
“Of course. Even if it were sent by an unknown playwright, they wouldn’t have been able to refuse to stage it immediately, let alone when the head of Parsha directly commands it…”
Life appeared in Asiz’s grinning expression for the first time in a while.
Though he had killed much of his ego while working as Parsha’s steward after losing his parents, his essence of loving theater hadn’t disappeared.
* * *
When the troupe leaders heard that a script had come directly from a great family to be staged, and that it was even based on their own wars, they all had similar thoughts.
‘Here we go again…’
Using theater to show off their superiority wasn’t exactly a novel method for mage families.
Even the ‘Hero Keorn’ that was popular in Arabion in the past was created to boast ‘Look, we were so strong that a knight could kill a noble!’ in a war where it was difficult to distinguish victor from vanquished.
However, as long as they were making a living in Kalamaf, they couldn’t dare disobey the orders of the great family Parsha.
After bowing their heads and saying they would practice as quickly as possible to stage it, their eyes bulged as if they would pop out when they read it.
“No, where on earth did this come from?”
After presenting the script that shocked everyone, the knight briefly conveyed the main house’s intention.
In three weeks, the troupe that performed the play most excellently would be given the opportunity to perform at the Kalamaf main house.
Along with tremendous prize money.
“Three weeks is too short…”
“Then that position will go to another troupe.”
“No, no! We can do it!”
They didn’t dare dream of the absurd fantasy of becoming the great family’s exclusive troupe.
Just getting the label of having been chosen by the Parsha main house and performing in front of powerful mages would tremendously elevate the troupe’s authority.
Moreover, though it was a story no different from delusion, if by any chance the head of Parsha came to watch the play and just said one good word…
‘This troupe’s plays are quite good.’
That would be enough that even decent knights couldn’t treat them carelessly.
Our troupe’s plays were praised by the head of a great family, so how dare a mere knight act arrogantly?
For three weeks from then, all the major theater troupes in Kalamaf stopped even their existing performances and began a bloody practice competition.
Naturally, the actors were also enthusiastic.
Just looking at the content of the play, it was something that would naturally ignite the souls of those with artistic temperament, and they had promised tremendous prize money if they succeeded properly.
When the time was up, a young man who was the steward of the Parsha family went around the three troupes, watched their plays, and selected one troupe.
“Good, we’ll go with you folks.”
“Ohhh…!”
“We did it!”
“We’re the best troupe in Kalamaf, no, in the Gray Zone!”
“Naturally, but there must be no mistakes. The master of Parsha will also watch directly.”
At the steward’s calm admonishment, the atmosphere of the celebrating troupe members instantly sank as if cold water had been poured on them.
Only then did it hit them.
That they would be performing in front of one of the most powerful mages in the world and the ruler of the land where hundreds of thousands of people lived.
“Well, don’t be too nervous though. The family head isn’t that demanding a person. If you perform to the level you showed this time, he’ll be satisfied enough.”
* * *
“The family is staging a play?”
“This is a first.”
“Are you going?”
“He specifically asked us to come, so we have to go. It’s an order for everyone except those on missions to gather.”
In the early evening, the mages of the Parsha family gathered at one of the underground training grounds that had been closed recently, responding to the family head’s summons.
There was a temporarily constructed theater there.
A composition that could be easily recognized just by looking at the tent, platform, and chairs lined up below.
Having been summoned before them, executives of the family and influential people of common birth were already seated on one side.
People like the owner of a fairly large trading company or the guild master of some craftsmen’s guild.
Though their status itself was lower than the mages, they were still people that ordinary knights couldn’t treat carelessly as subordinates.
“Our seats are in the middle.”
“Please sit first, Lord Rodel.”
“Thank you.”
While they all looked like the same mages to ordinary people’s eyes, the hierarchy among them was thorough, so knights yielded seats to nobles, and nobles yielded to more powerful nobles.
Shortly after, when hundreds of people had taken their seats, a young man appeared at the front of the theater.
Seeing this, people stood up and showed respect without anyone going first.
“Oh my.”
“Get up quickly, you fool!”
Turan Parsha.
In an era when it had already been hundreds of years, almost close to a thousand years, since a new great family had appeared, he was the founding monarch who had established a new great family through his own power.
That alone was worthy of everyone’s respect, but for the mages who had participated in battles together, Turan’s existence was even more special.
This was because quite a few of them had had their lives saved by his touch during life-and-death situations.
For those who would have died from serious injuries if not for such a healer, Turan’s status was inevitably divine.
“Thank you all for taking time from your busy schedules to come. This play is for the heroes who have fought hard for our family, for this land, so please enjoy it.”
The sensation of a low, murmuring voice that seemed to come from right next to you spreading throughout the entire theater and seeping into everyone’s ears was truly mystical.
After Turan, having shown off his skills like this, exited, the play began shortly after.
A young male singer shouted in a low voice like singing:
[“O goddess, sing of the rage—”]
The overall plot of the play itself was simple.
It was an ensemble drama based on the true story of the Parsha family’s three recent battles—the clashes with Arabion, Baraha, and the Carmine-merfolk forces.
However, this play was far from one-dimensional content that boringly depicted such true stories and boasted that Parsha was the best because they won everything.
The core theme of the story was about the people of Parsha living through the time between wars.
The tragic death of a young knight who had sworn to return alive to a common girl, young Baraha nobles who hoped for a new sun under a mad family head only to be suppressed, the revenge of a noble who lost his family to merfolk who attacked the coast…
While content that would have been called melodrama in a world with developed cultural media continued in episodes, people repeatedly laughed and cried.
Particularly intense reactions came from the mages seated in the middle of the audience—those who had directly participated in several wars.
If those things were events that had happened somewhere for others, for them those were things they themselves and the comrades they had fought with had directly experienced.
Meanwhile, the thematic consciousness that the play wanted to convey was unconsciously engraved in their minds.
[We are righteous, our wars were always just. We were always honorable.]
Other families also often pulled such tricks with propaganda plays, but the difference was that the method was extremely sophisticated.
Trying to hammer it in openly would only cause resistance, but subtly instilling it in a way that was hard to notice would seep in without such resistance.
The excellent quality of the play also increased immersion.
Although the actors’ performances were somewhat lacking due to having only three weeks to practice, they had still devoted themselves desperately during that time, so it wasn’t flawed enough to be problematic.
Moreover, since Turan personally used wind magic to blow the actors’ voices and various accompanying sounds throughout the theater, even people who had seen many plays found it difficult to keep their wits about them.
After the last act ended, thunderous applause filled the theater.
“The best!”
“Long live Parsha!”
As the audience, completely hooked by the propaganda play, went wild with enthusiasm, the actors who came forward to bow also smiled brightly.
While money played a big role in the profession of acting, the artistic pleasure of successfully staging a new play was equally important.
Their emotion became excessive when the young man with ash-colored hair climbed onto the platform.
“F-Fa…”
The troupe leader, who was trying to say “Family head,” seemed unable to continue speaking as if he was breathless.
Turan placed his hand on his shoulder and said quietly:
“It was a good play.”
“An honor, truly nothing but an honor…”
He could have been satisfied with just sitting far away and casually adding a word that it was decent, but such luxurious treatment?
The actors looked at each other with troubled expressions at the unfamiliar sight of the old troupe leader shedding tears.
After dismissing all the actors with a light gesture, Turan looked down at the audience below and said:
“Everyone seems to have enjoyed this play.”
The shouts of “Yes!” contained sincerity.
They had wondered what it was when the family head suddenly called them to watch a play, but they hadn’t expected it to be this entertaining.
No, it wasn’t just entertaining.
For some who had lost close friends or family in the past several battles and were living with a hole punched in one side of their hearts, this play was a great comfort.
“As you can see, we have had a particularly difficult time over the past few months. And we will continue to have difficult times. Our enemies have become weaker than before, but they are still strong and harbor deep resentment.”
After settling the atmosphere like this, Turan looked around with deep eyes.
“But I swear that I will protect this land, our family, with my life. I am not a king but a family head, and you are not subjects but family.”
After drawing another round of tears of emotion with his prepared speech, Turan began the event he had planned in advance.
It was the awarding of medals.
“Medals…?”
“What’s that?”
Originally, medals in that distant world were created through various complex social changes such as the fall of feudalism, but in this land, the concept of medals simply didn’t exist because ‘no one had thought of it.’
None of the ancient Freya gods had thought of such a concept, and the people of this place had no imagination to think of such things.
Turan was able to think of the medal concept only by chance when he was pressing the half-elves to think of ways to instill pride in their army.
When he muttered that maybe they should give commemorative items to commemorate battles, one of the half-elves said there was a concept called medals and was able to establish such a concept.
Naturally, the medals prepared this time were primitive compared to those of highly developed civilized nations.
They had only created symbols commemorating specific battles in metal to be worn on clothes, with no accompanying rewards, pensions, or special treatment prepared at all.
But for those encountering the concept of medals for the first time, that alone was sufficient.
“Benor Samik, participated in the Arabion defense battle and merfolk battle… here, I award you two medals.”
“Rem Bignel. Participated in the Baraha liberation battle. I award you one medal.”
“Dakia Elsis, participated in all three battles, so I award you three medals…”
How could one not be moved when the heavenly family head personally called their name and pinned badges on their clothes?
Seeing some shedding tears of emotion, Turan was convinced that the plan he had conceived over the past few weeks had worked perfectly.
Now the sheepdogs following him were ready to bite the enemy once again.