When they returned home, Philin shook his head in frustration. "Why don't you take a few more days to think before replying to Your Highness?" He noticed his wife was almost walking with a jump when she came back. The last time he'd seen her so radiant was probably at the wedding.
"No," Irene stuck out her tongue. "Even a single day delay would keep me awake." True enough, her passion for theater was so profound that she often practiced solo performances until midnight at the Fortress Theater, frequently rehearsing lines with herself. Had it not been for the Duke, she would have become a true theater star rather than just a theater flower. With this thought, he gently embraced his wife from behind. "I'm sorry." "...," Irene patted his head. "It's not your fault. When you were transferred to another city, there was no way to stop him." She smiled softly. "If you want to apologize, go cook. I'd like to review the script first." "Alright, alright, I'll do it." Philin kissed her earlobe. "Meat porridge and fried eggs, plus a serving of roast sausage to celebrate." The new residence differed significantly from his familiar homes in many details. Take the cooking stove: at the Long Song Fortress, both Nobles and commoners had an open hearth in the center of the main living room, unlike the new residence which had a separate room for the stove. The stove was surrounded on three sides, with a chimney opening at the back. A movable baffle at the doorway could be pushed in to block smoke from escaping into the living quarters when not in use.
Fei Ling readily recognized the benefits of this design. After closing the door, the living room remains shielded from cooking fumes and odors, while effectively lowering indoor temperatures during summer.
He filled the stove with firewood and sawdust, lit the flames, and began to focus on preparing tonight's meal.
After dinner, Irene immersed herself in the script. Only when the candle was nearly burnt out did she set down the third book and let out a long sigh of relief.
"How is it?" Fei Lin couldn't help but wonder. What kind of script could have consumed her so much time? After all, back in the theater days, she could easily flip through a dozen such thick booklets in half a day.
"It's... indescribable," Eileen marveled. "Each book is brimming with originality—I've never encountered such stories! In Cinderella, the Prince falls for a beautiful commoner instead of the princess... While this might seem odd, he insists on marrying a commoner. I even wonder if Your Royal Highness would find the absurdity of this tale unsettling when reading it. Setting that aside, the story remains gripping, especially when the Prince reunites with Cinderella and puts on her crystal shoes. I couldn't help but applaud their triumph." "The Midnight Rooster is equally fascinating. It's far simpler than Cinderella, requiring only two or three scenes to unfold. The depiction of the serf's courage against the Noble is particularly brilliant. Through prolonged buildup, it vividly captures the serf's emotional journey from barely tolerating to utter despair... The climactic rebellion's explosive intensity delivers a cathartic experience!" "A serf against the Noble?" Philin frowned. This was something the Noble would never tolerate. If serfs in Silt Manor dared to wield hoes and shovels against their master, their heads would likely be displayed at the manor gate the next day. "Is Your Highness really asking you to perform this kind of drama?" "That's because you haven't read the script," Irene shot him a glare. "Once you've read it, you'll feel the same way as me. Standing up against it was a last resort. Little Noble's bullying was outrageous—faced with life-threatening threats, they still just stuffed Noble in a sack and beat him up. I think that's already pretty restrained. Later, when Noble tried to execute all the serfs, a passing Witch saved them. She transformed into the image of the notorious local Noble to stop the villains, then went to Lord Castle to plead for the serfs. After a debate, the Lord made a wise and compassionate decision—he bought those serfs and promoted them to free citizens! I bet the audience would cheer by now." But Noble would surely protest, Filin thought dismissively. Then the theater would face pressure from Nobles, eventually dissolving the troupe... Wait, he suddenly realized that apart from the Viscount of Tiga and Your Royal Highness, there were no other Nobles living in Border Town, and the latter was the founder of the troupe. So, were Your Highness really planning to stage these plays only for the general public? But they couldn't make a dime from them. At the Fortress Theater's pay rates, this would be a total loss. Could Your Highness just be entertaining himself?
"But my dear," Irene barely noticed his God-like glow, "while the first two scripts were brilliant, they pale in comparison to the third, *The Witch's Diary*! I bet even if it were published in a major city like Chishui City or the Royal Capital, it would instantly draw theater troupes to rehearse and promote it! I must say, Shujuan is a genius screenwriter. This *The Witch's Diary* surpasses all contemporary plays in both plot and narrative technique." "Are you sure?" Philin chuckled at her serious demeanor. "Even in Changge Fortress, I often hear about Mr.Kajin Fis. His *To the Rose* and *Prince's Love Hunt* are universally acclaimed. Not only in the Royal Capital, but I've heard troupes from other kingdoms come to study them. Do you think this is better than those classics?" "Of course, you're doubting my judgment, my dear!" She outlined the script's essence. "Putting aside the plot, this innovative narrative approach is unprecedented. Unlike traditional plays that feel like third-person storytelling, this work keeps the focus firmly on the three witches. Their actions profoundly influence each other without their awareness. But near the midpoint, seemingly unrelated clues converge, forging an inseparable unity among the three witches." I must say, this new framework of multi-threaded narrative development is bound to make waves—though not in Border Town, and I even doubt how many people can grasp this depth. "She excitedly grabbed pen and paper, burying herself in writing," No, I need to call the theater crew over immediately. I can't wait to see their astonished expressions! "Philin stepped forward to hold her hand," Wait, Erin, don't you think... this story's content defies common sense?" After hearing his wife's account, he found the entire tale gripping, with its portrayal of human nature—both good and evil, virtue and vice—being profoundly nuanced. However, the depiction of the Witch starkly contradicted the Church's claims and was overly detailed. For instance, the third lucky recipient, due to familial care, could unleash their abilities without restraint, only to discover that the demon's devouring was a deceptive lie. The Witch, apart from manipulating Magic Power, was no different from ordinary people—she could laugh, cry, and grieve over the loss of loved ones. Roland, Your Highness, aren't you afraid the Church will come knocking after the news spreads?
"Contrary to common sense? No... Filing, they were all ordinary people before becoming witches, weren't they?" "Uh, that's right." "What about me?" Irene stared wide-eyed. "If I became a witch, would you consider me evil?" "No, of course not," Filing said hastily. "You'll always be the kind girl I know." "What if we had a daughter who became a witch?" "That would be even less likely—" He suddenly fell silent, already understanding his wife's meaning. Judging a witch from the outside is entirely different from labeling a family member you share your life with as evil.
"Exactly," Irene nodded approvingly. "If we do have a Witch..." "I'll raise her with the same devotion as the father of the third Witch in the tale," Knight declared, kneeling before her and assuming a solemn stance of allegiance.
"This is the proper answer," she said, setting down her quill pen with a light laugh. "I think... we can try it now." "As you wish, my dear," he whispered in her ear, then lifted her into his arms and carried her toward the bedroom.