Shepherd Wizard-Chapter 172.2
Translator: Pai_
“The house is putting on a play?”
“This is a first.”
“Are you going?”
"They specifically asked us to come, so I must. It's an order for everyone to gather except those out on missions."
In the early evening, the wizards of House Parsha gathered at one of the underground training grounds that had been closed off for some time, responding to the family head's summons.
There, an impromptu theater had been set up.
With just a tent, a platform, and rows of chairs below, it was easy to grasp what it was.
Seated to one side, perhaps summoned earlier, were the upper executives of the house and prominent individuals of commoner origin.
People like the owners of large merchant groups or heads of artisans’ guilds.
Although their social standing was lower than that of wizards, they were still not people ordinary knights could treat carelessly.
“Our seats are in the center.”
“Please have a seat first, Lord Rodel.”
“Thank you.”
To the eyes of ordinary people, all wizards looked the same, but within their ranks, the hierarchy was strict. Knights yielded their seats to nobles, and nobles yielded theirs to higher-ranking nobles.
A little later, as hundreds took their seats, a young man appeared at the front of the theater.
Upon seeing him, everyone rose in unison to show their respect.
"Oh my."
“Get up quickly, you idiot!”
Turan Parsha.
In an era already spanning several centuries, nearly a millennium since a new great noble house had appeared, he was the founding monarch who had built an entirely new great house with his own power.
That alone was enough to earn universal respect, but to the wizards who had fought alongside him, Turan's presence held even greater significance.
There were many who had been saved by his touch in the midst of life-and-death battles.
For those who would have died from grievous wounds if not for a healer like him, Turan’s stature could only be seen as godlike.
“Thank you all for making time to come. This play is for the warriors who have fought hard for our house and this land, so please enjoy it.”
His voice, soft like a whisper from the person beside you, spread throughout the entire theater, seeping into the ears of everyone present, it was a mysterious sensation.
After thus showcasing his own skill, Turan exited, and before long, the play began.
A young male singer shouted in a deep, melodic tone.
[“O god, sing of wrath-”]
The overall storyline of the play was simple.
It was a large-scale drama based on three recent battles of House Parsha, conflicts with Aravion, Varaha, and the Carmine-mermaid alliance.
However, this play was far from a one-dimensional tale merely boasting “we won them all, House Parsha is the best.”
The core theme was the lives of Parsha’s people in the time between wars.
A young knight who had promised a commoner girl he’d return alive, only to meet a tragic death; young nobles of Varaha who, under a deranged family head, dreamed of a new sun but were suppressed; the vengeance of a noble who lost his family to mermaids raiding the coast...
In any society with a developed media culture, this would have been called a “melodrama,” but as these short vignettes unfolded, the audience laughed and cried again and again.
The strongest reactions came from the wizards seated in the center, those who had directly participated in some of those battles.
To others, it may have seemed like events that happened elsewhere, but to them, it was what they themselves and their comrades had personally experienced.
And during this, the theme the play sought to convey was unconsciously etched into their minds.
[We are just. Our wars have always been righteous. We have always been honorable.]
Other houses also tried similar propaganda through plays, but the difference here was how refined the approach was.
A blunt, heavy-handed method only triggered resistance, while something subtle and unnoticeable had a way of sinking in without pushback.
The play’s exceptional quality also enhanced immersion.
Although the actors’ performances were slightly lacking due to the mere three weeks of practice time, their desperate dedication during that period ensured there were no major flaws.
Furthermore, with Turan himself using wind magic to carry the actors’ voices and various accompanying sounds across the entire theater, even seasoned theatergoers found it difficult to pull themselves out of the experience.
After the final scene ended, thunderous applause filled the theater.
“That was amazing-!”
“Long live House Parsha!”
As the propaganda play completely ensnared the audience and they erupted in excitement, the actors who came forward to bow were all beaming.
Money played a significant role in the life of an actor, but the artistic satisfaction of successfully staging a new play was no less rewarding.
Their emotional high reached its peak when a young man with ash-gray hair ascended the stage.
“L-Lor...”
The troupe leader, trying to say “Lord,” seemed unable to finish, as if breathless from awe.
Turan placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke softly.
"It was a good play."
“An honor... it’s truly an honor beyond words...”
Just a simple word like “Good,” said from far off would have been more than enough, but to be treated with such honor and grandeur?
At the unfamiliar sight of the old troupe leader shedding tears in streams, the actors exchanged awkward glances.
After that, with a light gesture, Turan dismissed the actors from the stage, then looked down at the audience below and spoke.
“It seems everyone enjoyed the play.”
The loud response of “Yes!” was filled with sincerity.
At first, many had wondered what it was all about when the family head suddenly summoned them to watch a play. But none had expected it to be this enjoyable.
No, it wasn’t just about being entertaining.
For some who had lost close friends or family in the past few battles and had lived with a hole in their hearts ever since, this play brought deep comfort.
“As you can see, we have gone through particularly difficult times over the past few months. And more difficult times still lie ahead. Our enemies may be weaker than before, but they remain, holding deep grudges.”
Having thus calmed the atmosphere, Turan looked around with deep eyes.
“But I swear this, I will lay down my life to protect this land and our family. I am not a king, but a family head, and you are not my subjects, but my family.”
With that pre-written speech, he drew another round of tears from the crowd.
Then, Turan began the next planned event.
It was the awarding of medals.
“Medals...?”
"What are those?" 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚
Originally, in some distant world, medals had arisen through complex social changes such as the fall of feudalism, but in this land, the concept of medals simply hadn’t appeared, because no one had thought of it.
None of the ancient Preah God Tribe had ever conceived such a thing, and the people here had never imagined it either.
Turan himself had only stumbled upon the idea while urging the half-elves to come up with a way to instill pride in their military unit.
When he muttered something about giving out a commemorative token for the battles, one of the half-elves mentioned the concept of medals, allowing him to establish it.
Naturally, the medals prepared this time were primitive compared to those of highly developed civilized nations.
All he did was craft a symbol commemorating a specific battle in metal and attach it to clothing, there were no associated rewards, pensions, or special treatment.
But for those encountering the concept of a medal for the first time, that alone was more than enough.
“Benor Samik, for participation in the Aravion defense battle and the Mermaid battle... here, I award two medals.”
“Rem Vigenel. For participation in the Varaha 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 very family head, like a god above, personally called their name and pinned the badge onto their clothing?
Seeing several people shed tears of emotion, Turan became confident that the plan he had devised over the past few weeks had worked perfectly.
Now, the shepherd dogs who followed him were once again ready to tear into their enemies.
*****
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