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I. Freedom
Furina stares up at the ceiling of her new apartment and thinks about dying.
Oh, don’t make that face, dearest reader of this tale! Never fear! This situation is not so dire! One must simply consider the current condition of our darling main character. Centuries of rising action led up to a climactic trial that, if you are being generous in your pacing, lasted barely an hour. This seemingly endless tale is now falling towards a foreseeable resolution ( which will take place in, and let me be very clear, the next seventy to eighty years and no sooner).
As such, allow our heroine, then, to ponder the shape of that resolution, the length of that fall. What would be the most fitting conclusion to this - the Epic of Focalors?
After a few weeks of languishing away in bed, Furina is able to summon up the not inconsiderable strength to venture outside of her humble abode to seek out provisions for her lunch. She had attempted a new recipe the previous night and those attempts were not…fruitful. Or, depending on one’s outlook, they were incredibly fruitful.
The remains of the Attempt, as Furina calls it in her mind to prevent any deeper consideration into the nature of her creation, lay festering in the planter underneath her windowsill. She fears for the local wildlife.
She makes a mental note to properly dispose of the Attempt once she returns from her quick and simple errand to procure more boxes of macaroni and some new plants to replace the lives tragically taken before their time by the Attempt. The lavender will be sorely missed.
But in between the cut from one scene to the next, observe how Furina’s hand freezes on the doorknob.
Oh! How strange! Perhaps a costume change will alleviate this strange anxiety that has settled restlessly in her gut. After all, something as simple as a grocery run does not warrant such an eye-catching ensemble.
Besides, this particular look belongs to the Archon of Fontaine, Regina of All Waters, Kindreds, Peoples, etc. and she’s not -
No matter! She hands up her coat and sets aside her iconic headwear in a hatbox. She changes into a darker shirt and the matching pair of shorts. She plays with the ends of the long strands of her hair and decides, yes, a fashionable bob would most certainly suit the aesthetics of the next scene. She was already halfway there anyway.
Her sink full of hair and scissors in her hands, she takes a few seconds to frown at that stubborn sprig of hair bobbing up and down on the side of her head in contemplation. Ultimately, she decides against it, snapping the scissors closed in the air. She suddenly remembers her attempts to make that particular strand of hair lay flat a few centuries ago and it…did not work. She will leave it at that.
At the end of her quick change, Furina is sure that she is the very image of the average Fontainian young lady off to complete her completely mundane errand that anyone can do without much thought or build up. She is sure, but she cannot be one-hundred percent certain due to the fact that all of the mirrors in her apartment were turned around to face the wall.
Ah, the quirks of an idol!
Cut to a sunny Fontainian street. Amongst the people - behind the children dodging through the legs of tourists, between the harried workers racing towards the aquabus station, slightly ahead of a laughing pair of friends - see Furina de Fontaine trying her hardest not to be seen.
She finds the local grocery with little issue and it is thankfully empty save for the lone shopkeeper idly flipping through a fashion magazine at the front counter. Furina darts into the store and peruses through the shop’s various wares.
The store is lacking in a variety of options, but it carries all of the basic necessities one could need and there is even a small florist section in the back lit up by a large window. With her heart settled and her breathing leveled, she peruses through the selection of herbs before selecting a few Marcotte seedlings to take home, adding them to her basket of macaroni, tomatoes and carrots, and a single baguette to indicate to the audience that she had gone grocery shopping.
At the checkout, Furina realizes that she has made two crucial mistakes.
Mistake the first: Furina’s visage is well-known throughout Fontaine and various reproductions of her beauty have been spread far and wide throughout all of Teyvat even before the invention of the kamera. For five hundred years, the people of Fontaine knew her to be their most powerful and most beloved Archon. Removing her jacket and hat, changing her clothes, and cutting her hair would not render her unrecognizable to the people.
Thinking on it now, she would be insulted if it had.
Mistake the second: Before, everything was provided for her. While she had no difficulties navigating the shop, this is the first time Furina has gone on an errand on her own without an attendant to take care of the actual shopping for her while Furina entertained her crowd of adoring fans, taking pictures, signing autographs, and the like.
Furina does not have any Mora.
(That’s not to say that the Hydro Archon Furina is destitute! Non, non far from it! She currently receives a regular allowance dispensed by the Palais Mermonia. She does not know how long these funds will last, but she has been assured that she will be able to live comfortably on them for quite some time. The funds came from various performance fees she has accrued for roles beyond her duties as the Hydro Archon for the past several hundred years. At the time, she did feel a twinge of guilt for accepting the money since she did not need it, but legally she was owed payment for her work and who was the God of Justice to deny the law? It would simply not do for the Hydro Archon to be seen being taken advantage of by her people.)
“Uh, um,” Furina could not bear to see the look of derision and scorn undoubtedly gracing the shopkeeper’s face. What a little fool, the chorus in her head mutters. So inept that she cannot even buy her paltry macaroni without it ending in disaster. “I, I’ll put this all ba-”
“Lady Furina!” Listen to the joy in the shopkeeper’s voice. It relaxes Furina’s shoulders as it claws at her stomach. The woman - Fleur, if Furina is not mistaken - claps her hands in delight as Furina looks up to meet her eyes. “What an absolute honor! Oh my - I cannot even begin to explain how happy I am. I wanted to give you some space to do your shopping in peace, but I would not be able to live with myself if I let this opportunity pass me by.”
Audaciously, she reaches out to clasp Furina’s hand between her own and she hopes that Fleur mistakes Furina’s trembling for her own. “You were absolutely divine in The Maiden and the Sun. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. You stole the whole show. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since I saw it. I saved up for a month to get front row tickets!”
Fleur begins packing up Furina’s groceries in brown paper bags and adds some sweets that Furina had mentioned liking in a few interviews. Fleur speaks over Furina’s stuttered attempts at stopping her. “And, you know, that show launched Hélène Leriche’s career. She, of course, was not as brilliant as you, but the fact that she stood out at all while sharing a stage with you is impressive enough. You know, she starred in a film I had watched the other day. What was its name? Oh, it’s no problem.” Fleur pushes the bag back towards Furina. “Please, please, take it! Seeing your performance and getting to meet you in person is more than enough payment.”
“This certainly is not good business,” Furina squeaks out. She’s given up on leaving empty handed. Fleur has an intensity to her that is difficult to refuse. Furina struggles to balance the bags in her arms and is more successful in waving off Fleur’s help in this matter. She certainly cannot suffer the embarrassment of being seen needing any more help from her citizens.
Her fellow citizens, she means.
Fleur waves away Furina’s concerns unsuccessfully. “It’s a special occasion! I had put my name on the waiting list for an audience with you ages ago, but with everything that’s been going on, I feared that it would never happen. The gods are certainly smiling down on me today!” She laughs.
Furina swallows down whatever emotion was threatening to escape her throat and manages to laugh weakly alongside her.
“Besides,” Fleur continues. “We were hit pretty hard, but the shop’s recovered quite well since the flood-”
Cut to Furina’s apartment. The sun hangs low in the sky and long shadows cut stark spikes through the red light of the sunset. Groceries are scattered on the floor, spilling out of the brown paper bags. Milk has soaked into the rug in the middle of the living room. She will have to clean that up later.
Furina does not know how she got here or when.
It takes minutes or seconds or hours for her heart rate to settle and for her lungs to properly take in air. It takes a few more minutes or seconds or hours after that for her ears to stop ringing and her vision to clear.
She gets up on shaking legs, picks up her groceries, and starts making her, well, she supposes it will have to be dinner now.
We close on the image of Furina cleaning up after the mess that was made of her.
She considers the shape of the life ahead of her and hopes that it will not be shaped like this.
II. Contracts
What Furina sees before her is a figurative mountain of scripts vying for her precious attention.
Since her return to the stage with the first and final performance of The Little Oceanid, Furina has been utterly inundated with offers from various theater troupes and production guilds. Inquiries in regards to her availability as an actress were swiftly met with the sharp claws of Mademoiselle Crabaletta and a strongly worded letter dictated by Furina and penned by Gentilhomme Usher that made it abundantly clear that Furina’s acting “hiatus” is a permanent retirement.
Consultancy requests were welcomed and, in some cases, even provided free of cost depending on how well the question and problem were presented to Furina. Inquiries into her availability for directing were met with even more scrutiny and deep consideration.
With those sorts of roles, Furina’s decision to take on a project were not only influenced by her own personal interests and consideration for how the work will fit within her oeuvre - though admittedly that influenced the majority of her decisions - but she must also spare at least some thought into how her presence will influence the shape of the production and the careers of those involved.
One of the reasons that Furina is such a sought after director is, of course, her reputation. Her previous body of work speaks for itself and she has already gone down in history as the greatest performer of the current age (and that’s not even taking into consideration her most famous and longest running role).
Getting Furina to agree to work on a project means also getting her connections. Furina refuses to work with anything and anyone less than the absolute best and she recognizes how easy it is for her to get the best of the best to agree to work with her for a price that they wouldn’t even have nightmares of accepting from anyone else. Booking the Opera Epiclese to serve as a venue for her productions merely requires a quick - unannounced even! - visit to the Office of the Iudex.
These are privileges that many others would kill for and have killed for in the past. Furina’s seen it at least once a decade for the past 500 years which is actually quite a lot. No, really!
This is why she has had to be so discerning when committing to projects. Not only does she need to prove - to her audience, to herself - that she is deserving of being showered with this praise and special treatment, she needs to work on projects and with people that are deserving of it as well. She’s received many lucrative offers from people with stale visions and impotent passions, motivated by insipid fame or petty fortunes. Furina cannot work with anything less than total dedication to and love for theater. To do so would be a disservice to the art form.
In some ways, in every way that matters, Furina has set the standard. There is a saying in Fontaine. To say someone has l'oeil de Furina means that someone has a pure, genuine, and single-minded passion for something. Most of the time, it is used to refer to love of the theater or to justice itself, but Estelle of the Beaumont Workshop has l'oeil de Furina for blacksmithing. Delaroche of the Fishing Association l'oeil de Furina for fishing. Alain Guillotin was said to have l'oeil de Furina for engineering.
Since The Little Oceanid, Furina has worked on two projects. Her run of The Maiden and the Sun was met with universal critical acclaim and while the limited run of The Snow Winged Goose had not made nearly as many proverbial waves as her true debut feature, many agree that this adaptation surpassed all other productions of this tale.
With these directing credits under her belt, Furina wants to sink her teeth into something new. Exciting! Fresh!
“Boring!” she laments, cradling Surintendante Chevalmarin in her lap with one arm and laying the other arm across her eyes. “Is this truly the best there is to offer? Where is the creativity? The variety? The passion?” She leaps up from her seat, releasing Surintendante Chevalmarin to float sedately in the air, and tosses the latest script violently into the steadily growing reject pile. Gentilhomme Usher floats over to poke at it to find the name to type on the rejection letter. “Fontaine has the most robust and historied theater tradition in all of Teyvat! Why have I seen nothing but stage or film adaptations of Fontainian fairy tales and legends all day! Do all these people truly believe I have nothing more that I care to bring to life?”
In hindsight, perhaps the only natural conclusion one could come to after seeing Furina work on three consecutive stage adaptations of Fontainian fairy tales is that Furina has a special love for these narratives. It’s not necessarily an incorrect conclusion - she most certainly has a fondness for these stories and how she has seen them change over time and how she has seen them stay the same over time - but it most certainly cannot be thought of as “correct” either. The fact that those works were fairy tales, or of a similar genre to fairy tales, bore no weight in Furina’s decision to take on those projects, merely incidental to the richness she found in those stories.
Regardless of that fact, Furina makes the executive decision to reject all such proposals for the next three projects at least. She takes a break from reading the scripts to dictate the full rejection letters to Gentilhomme Usher and takes great care to include some positive notes on the rejected works and some suggestions for further revisions. She even directs a few promising playwrights to other directors or producers who she thinks might be a better fit than her. Art must be nurtured. While today they may have submitted to her lackluster material; tomorrow, who knows?
Certainly not Furina.
She reads through the remaining scripts and is able to get through them at a much faster rate now that she’s drawn that particular line in the sand. She even begins to entertain visions of finishing early enough to make it to Clorinde’s game night when those hopes are promptly dashed by the appearance of the script she sees before her.
Rex Incognito - A Modern Retelling of Traditional Liyuen Folk Tales.
Should she find this to be in poor taste? The fact that she is even asking herself this question is reason enough to believe that it is. But it’s not as if Fontaine and Liyue are on poor terms. From what she’s seen of Neuvillette’s correspondences with the Tianquan, the relationship between the Nation of Geo and Hydro is cordial and prosperous. Still, she finds it difficult to put herself in the shoes of a young, aspiring playwright and think that telling the tale of foreign, dead Archon living amongst his people with Furina of all people at the helm would be in any way a good idea. Even beginning to consider the optics of such a thing is beginning to give Furina a headache. Surintendante Chevalmarin has started to fan her.
The news of Rex Lapis’s passing caused a great stir that reverberated in waves throughout the whole of Teyvat and it seems like only now have they begun to settle. There were many who were fearful that their beloved Archon would be the next to fall and there were just as many who watched with a hawk’s eye in eager anticipation. When Furina had burst into Neuvillette’s office unannounced in a mindless panic to tell him of the news, he merely raised an eyebrow and said, “Is that so? My condolences to the family.”
Family is not something Furina has ever considered Archon’s could even have, but it was a fitting label as anything else. Furina had only met the Geo Archon once when she had thoughtlessly accepted an invitation to visit Liyue during the Lantern Rite festival.
There had once been a time in which the Seven Archons were able to freely gather in peace and harmony. One would like to invite the possibility of such a time to return.
There had been no reason to doubt the intentions of such an invitation - any conflict between Fontaine and the other nations of Teyvat had been resolved with the founding of the Fortress of Meropide - and Furina had struggled to find a way to refuse the offer without appearing rude and inviting new conflict.
The other Archons apparently had no such trouble. Furina and her retinue from Fontaine were the only ones in attendance. The other nations sent ambassadors and representatives with gifts and apologies from their gods, which Rex Lapis had accepted with an unreadable look in their golden eyes.
That expression became very readable - as annoyance, let us be very clear on that - at the sight of Mondstadt’s representative, an apparently renowned bard with an Anemo vision who was already on his sixth bottle of wine. Given that Barbatos remains to this day a notoriously absent figure in Mondstadt’s governance, he was probably the closest person they could find to send in his stead.
She had spent most of her time in Liyue unable to enjoy any of the games and festivities. Most of her energy had been spent doing her utmost to avoid Morax, er, Rex Lapis. The name of the Mondstadt bard escapes her after so many centuries, but what she does remember is how unwittingly helpful he was in avoiding Rex Lapis or his retainers. Rex Lapis never seemed eager to spend more time than necessary in the bard’s presence and so Furina had practically attached herself to his side. She does also remember that he was a delightful conversationalist and had some really novel ideas regarding the arts and music that were very ahead of the times in hindsight.
She finds herself now wondering what happened to him. Oh, Furina is sure that he is certainly long, long, long dead, but perhaps he has some descendents wandering around Mondstadt.
Still, despite the bard’s best, unintentional efforts, Furina couldn’t avoid Rex Lapis forever. What an insult! To accept the invitation of another Archon to enter their lands and then ignore them during your entire stay! She had enough on her plate at the time without having to deal with the fallout of a faux pas of that magnitude. By all accounts, Rex Lapis was not one so prideful or easily insulted, but the people of Liyue took no issue with being prideful or easily insulted on their beloved god’s behalf.
Rex Lapis was solid as stone, warm but stoic.There was no performance in the declarations for the beginning of the Lantern Rite festivities. No spectacle in the announcement of the winner of this year’s Lantern Rite martial arts competition. Yet she could not help but notice the respect and devotion she saw in the eyes of the people of Liyue as they gazed upon their first and only god.
Is this the power of a true Archon? To wield authority and power with the grace of a weapon and to be free from the doubts and judgment of your people? Or is this the power of being the first, of being compared to no one but yourself, to set the standard of what it means to be the god of Liyue?
On the final night of the festival, the foreign representatives, various members of the Liyue Qixing, and a small group of Rex Lapis’s retainers sailed on a small boat to watch the fireworks display while floating on the calm surface of Liyue Harbor.
Rex Lapis was not with them, taking on the form of a dragon the size of Liyue Harbor itself. The dragon twisted and flew in the air and it seemed as if the entire length of that massive body had coiled around the whole of Liyue.
“Rex Lapis sends apologies about being unable to watch the fireworks display with you all. One hopes that you do not take great offense with my lord.” One of Rex Lapis’s retainers - an adeptus in the shape of a handsome, golden-eyed youth, not much taller than Furina herself, with long brown hair tied up in a golden ribbon - approached her at the tail end of the fireworks show. It was the only time anyone could have approached her and had her pay attention to what was being said. She had never seen anything so wondrous in her whole life.
“Oh, no offense at all! I would do much the same! Rex Lapis had the best seats in the house!” The adeptus smiles politely, though she thought she saw some confusion in the turn of phrase. “I hope your lord likewise does not take offense with my lack of availability during the festivities.”
“One can assure you that my lord is glad that you were able to enjoy the Lantern Rite festival. You were not invited for Rex Lapis’s entertainment, but so that you may enjoy the culture of Liyue.”
“Well, let Morax know that I enjoyed it very much.” Her eyes landed upon that umber dragon floating serenely in the night sky. The xiao lanterns glowed like stars, as if the skies had descended upon Liyue this night. Though the dragon was too far away to tell for sure, Furina could sense the dragon’s warm gaze meet hers. Clearing her throat, she addressed the dragon above her, the adeptus before her, and the people around her. She made sure to project her voice so that all could hear. “I would like to express my most sincere gratitude for this invitation to partake in your celebrations for the new year. I found Liyue and its people to be very welcoming and charming.”
With a flourish, she raised her arms to encompass the lights of Liyue Harbor. With an even bigger flourish, she raises her arm towards the dragon and brings her other arm to place her hand delicately on her chest, nodding her head slightly. “Might I extend my own invitation for you to visit Fontaine so you can enjoy our many sights and wonders? And also allow me to extend my own wish for you to have a happy Lantern Rite.”
“It was my lord’s utmost pleasure to host you all.” The adeptus dips his head with a gentle smile. “One would also like to visit Fontaine under better circumstances.”
“Oh? Have you visited Fontaine before.”
The adeptus is silent for a moment before he walked up to stand next to Furina. She could overhear whispers behind her chiding the adeptus for his audacity to stand at an equal position with their Archon, but Furina waves away those concerns. “Once,” a deep voice belied his youthful appearance, but the sound of it showed a wisdom and age older than Furina. “During the Archon War, Rex Lapis had flown to the aid of your predecessor.”
The Archon Wars. She took in this golden-eyed adeptus with new eyes. Goodness, she could not imagine being that old. She still can't.
“Vengeance, Retribution, Wrath - they had all fought for the throne of Fontaine, but one is most grateful that it is your vision of Justice that had emerged victorious in the end.” Those ancient, golden eyes met Furina’s and felt his gaze land not on her, but on something deep within her. “Egeria has certainly left you with quite the dilemma.”
Furina laughs, forces the air out her lungs in a way that she hoped sounded confident and not hysterical. “She most certainly has, but tell your lord to not be concerned. It is nothing that I am not capable of handling. Egeria chose quite well for her successor.”
“We shall see.”
Morax had never taken her up on her invitation, to her unending relief. And, once she had returned to the relatively safe waters of Fontaine, she refused all other invitations for meetings or further diplomatic visits to other regions. The Tsaritsa had made an offer once, but Furina had cited the prophecy as reason for her refusal and what Archon could begrudge one of their fellows for taking care of their nation above all else?
It is with this memory of Morax, ahem, Rex Lapis that Furina reads the script.
“A god in the guise of a human, walking among his people,” Furina murmurs. “Hmmm.”
The story itself is straightforward and not particularly inspired in its themes, dialogue, or staging. It seems as if the playwrights were banking solely on its foreign origins to appeal to producers and audiences alike. Furina knows of a few studios or theater troupes who would take on this script on that novelty alone.
Fine. Let one of them take it. There is no way that Furina would anyway. She doesn’t think she can even catch a performance of it. She can hear the whispers and gossip already, the theories spread by word of mouth about what it could possibly mean for Lady Furina to see such a show. Does she see herself mirrored in this tale? Does she long to walk in the steps of the archon once more? Does she miss her power and godhood?
(And always, always and forever will these whispers follow her.
Does she want to return to the stage? )
But, if one day she is browsing through the aisles of the local bookshop and she stumbles upon a copy of the original book the play was based on, it may find itself among the rest of her purchases.
III. Eternity
Dearest and most gracious members of the audience, I welcome you to the greatest show Fontaine, nay, Teyvat has ever seen!
Allow me to set the scene for you.
See the Hydro Archon seated upon her throne, the perfectly crafted knowing smile on her face. What does she know? Will that ever be revealed or must Fontainians entertain themselves with conjecture and speculation?
See the Iudex Neuvillette upon his own seat across from her, his face as solid and serious as ever - a beautiful juxtaposition with the Archon’s playfulness and whimsy.
Between them is a gaping chasm and at the bottom of that chasm is you, the audience.
Slightly above you, but slightly below the Archon and the Iudex stand the principal actors for this particular scene that you are peering into.
The two main characters argue against each other, pleading for their version of the truth to prevail. These pleas are passionate - electric and desperate and delicious. Desperation in a thousand different flavors.
The Iudex shall decide who is lying. The audience shall decide who is lying. The Oratrice shall decide who is lying.
Judge. Jury. Executioner. This is Fontaine’s supreme justice!
And what is the role of the darling Archon?
Why, it is only to be all of these things and more! All of these things and nothing at all!
Wait! Make sure you are paying attention to this part. Watch how the main characters bow and exit the stage to meet their fates. See! A new set of characters come to take their places.
The two new characters argue against each other, pleading for their version of the truth to prevail. These pleas are passionate, electric. Desperation in a thousand different faces.
A thousand? No. Can it really be that many? Or, no, wait. Can it be that few?
Ah, what does it matter? The show must go on!
If you can tear your eyes away for a moment, take note of the changing faces and fashions of those among you in the audience. Observe the steadfast gaze of the Iudex has he makes judgements that, if you think about it, mean nothing under the authority of the Oratrice.
(Don’t think about it!)
And perhaps one day you would be able to do the Archon the kindness of averting your eyes and she turns away from the proceedings because she cannot bear to look on for a moment longer.
But that day is not today.
In fact, today you are invited to look closer! I hope you can appreciate this peak behind the curtain. Only the dearest and most devoted of audience members are ever allowed backstage.
Know this and know it well: Furina questioned if Fontaine was worth saving. Of course she did. She’s no god and she never was. She has always been the most human of us all.
So of course she asked that question. A hundred times. A thousand! Of course she asked.
Consider a play with 182,500 scenes. Each act is the exact same as the one before it and is the exact same as the one that will succeed it. The only difference between these scenes is the 182,500 variations on how far a human can fall. What depths of depravity can a human succumb to? What heinous injuries and transgressions can one person commit against another? How many different ways can a person allow evil to enter their hearts and wreak havoc upon this world?
What are the motivations? What is the main thrust of the act? What is the shape of the conflicts, of which there are only these four: versus man, versus the self, versus society, and versus nature?
But, come here, come closer. You were the one who wanted to take a tour backstage so see it all the way through.
Come and see that however far these characters fell into the nadir, Furina had fallen further. However high these characters had flown, Furina had risen higher.
So whenever the evil of doubt had entered Furina’s heart and she was overwhelmed by the split-second need to spoil the fifth act twist for someone, anyone, everyone who cared to hear it, the answer came as quickly as the question.
Of course Fontaine was worth saving. Of course it was.
How could anyone not think that after witnessing 182, 500 scenes of people begging to be saved? Where would be the justice in that?
And, of all things, spoiling the ending is the only thing that cannot be forgiven.
IV. Wisdom
Review: Prout de Jure: Furina’s Latest Triumph or an Experimental Misstep?
by Thierry Delpit
2 ½ stars
It is impossible to walk into a performance involving Furina de Fontaine without having Celestia high expectations and this is no exception, even if she does not step foot onto the stage. I have been eagerly awaiting this production since it was announced nearly a year ago. Any trepidation I felt was directed towards greenhorn writer - Luc Martier, whose only other work of note was a one-man show that I hesitate to criticize only because to do so would feel like I was bullying a small child or perhaps an injured baby animal.
The most notable element of the show that I must share with you, dear reader, before you spend precious Mora on seats and precious time in seats, is the amount of power the audience has to influence the course of the show. While the idea was exciting and novel in the moment, after a few days of thought, I worry about how this idea might impact the entire art of storytelling.
Prout de Jure revolves around the trial for the murder of the character Julian du Lac, played by Marc Roussel. At the beginning of the play, a nameless reporter takes the stand to share their perspective on the night of the murder, who had been there in order to conduct interviews with du Lac’s family, friends, enemies, and employees for feature on the man all at his behest. This premise serves to justify the way the play jumps through time, narrators, and perspectives at a pace that would have been even more disorienting in clumsier hands than those of our beloved former Archon.
The audience serves as a jury of sorts and at several points throughout the play, ushers would collect from the audience a token which indicated who they believed to be the murderer. Once collected, these tokens would be displayed in grand glass containers off to the side of the stage, not obstructing the actors or the set, but always visible.
Early into my first viewing of the play, my audience seemed overwhelmingly convinced that the murderer was the jealous friend of du Lac. Halfway through, they seemed evenly split between du Lac’s father - Triton du Lac - and an unappreciated, beleaguered butler. Nearer to the end, the glass tube that held the tokens was solely the deep blue that indicated the guilt of Triton du Lac.
The progression of the play only served to confirm our suspicions. Triton du Lac’s behavior only grew more and more suspicious, the way he spoke of his only son deplorable no matter how gauche du Lac’s behavior became, he was erratic, violent. He could be the only suspect and I felt a sense of accomplishment at the intelligence of my fellow audience. How clever we all were! How deft and familiar in the ways of crime and storytelling!
This is not how my second viewing of the play went. Same cast, same theaters, same week even, but a different audience. This audience believed that it was a lover’s quarrel and the tokens were split evenly between du Lac’s current flame and a childhood friend who had been spurned by du Lac. It was quite the thing to behold. Lines I thought of as being of no consequence in my first showing were charged with rage and passion. Meanwhile, Triton du Lac’s lines so filled with malice and hatred my first viewing were mild, even fond, though the lines have not changed nor the plot. The only thing that was different was the audience and how the actors played to it.
This shift was not seamless. Some characters, as written, do not necessarily lend themselves to acting as a murderer. While the collection of tokens did not take place at inconvenient times, always positioned strategically at the beginning of intermission, the collection itself was awkward. There are some kinks to work out. There were and at times it was clear when the actors were not prepared for the audience to move in a certain direction.
Truly it is a play that is carried by its actors. The cast is a mix of unknowns and more seasoned professionals, but the true standout was Marc Roussel, whose only other credit of note is as a member of the ensemble for Lady Furina’s The Snow Winged Goose.
Julian du Lac will undoubtedly be Roussel’s breakout role regardless of how the eye of history gazes upon his first work in a main role. The shifting, multiple perspectives of the different characters in the play come together to create a fractured, manifold image of a singular man. He is the childhood sweetheart, the hedonist son, the careless friend, the bratty charge, the snake-tongued charmer. He is all of these things and none of them and something else entirely. There are a few rough edges though this diamond can hardly be called “in the rough”, but once polished, Roussel might shine the brightest of all.
Of all the experiments and innovations coming out of this play, of all the risks that were taken, I am looking forward to where his path leads most of all.
And yet, while I have the utmost respect for Lady Furina’s decision to retire from acting on stage, I can help but think that perhaps the only right person to play such a role is the (former) god herself.
You, of course, would have noticed the relatively low score I had given this work. As I’ve said, while the premise is novel and the cast is phenomenal at performing what they have been given, the implementation of these elements leaves a lot to be desired. This will only improve as the cast and crew become more accustomed to the nature of the show, but that very nature is what I would call into question. I must admit, I shudder at the thought of the audience having so much power to influence the performance of a show. Prout de Jure shied away from the boldest move of giving the audience the power to decide the outcome of the story, the murderer of du Lac, but even the little influence we actually had left me discomforted. It was exciting at the time, but it left me wondering if this is the way stories will be told from now on.
Rather than focusing on the truth, the pure artistic vision of a storyteller and their chosen collaborators, will narratives instead become about playing to an audience and their expectations? Will writers, directors, actors become even more of a slave to the whims of an audience who can only see the shadows on the wall instead of the light? Who is more important - the person telling the story or the person listening? I fear that if this style of storytelling becomes more popular, this is the path that we will be forced to walk.
V. Justice
It’s raining when Furina wakes up and suddenly she finds herself with a free afternoon two weeks before the premiere of Prout de Jure. She sends Gentilhomme Usher to tell Luc that he will be running rehearsals today, she trusts his judgment without reservation, and if he needs anything from her to send Gentilhomme Usher to fetch her, he will be by his side the whole time.
Walking up the steps of the Palais Mermonia, Furina is hit with the sudden realization that she has not been here since, well…
Since.
But no matter! The whispers that begin as she enters are easy enough to ignore and Sedene waves her into Neuvillette’s office like she always has, with acknowledgement of Furina as a person and the understanding that there is nothing that can be done to stop her from entering the Iudex’s office.
Neuvillette is sitting at this desk as he usually does, posture impeccable and his chin resting on clasped hands while he reads a case file with sharp eyes. The rain pounds against the windows and the force of it rattles the glass. Furina would be worried if she hadn’t seen those windows hold through worse storms in the past. At least it is just rain, no winds or lightning to worry about.
He doesn’t seem to notice Furina as she approaches, even when she takes extra care to click her heels against the tiled floor. Even when she is standing directly in front of him, he does not look up from the papers.
He looks tired.
He’s always looked a bit tired for as long as she’s known him, but there is a stormy look in his eyes that is perfectly in rhythm with the raging storm outside.
Before, when she would see him in such a state, she would bluster in and demand his attention. Let’s have afternoon tea! Let’s go see a show! My, my Monsieur Neuvillette, what an absolute bore you are being! Live a little! Indulging in levity is good for one’s soul, didn’t he know?
He would refuse, of course, much, much too busy sitting on his dais passing judgements in accord with the Oratrice, but the rains would always lighten up a smidge after that bout of distraction so Furina always considered those performances to be a success.
This is a role she’s had centuries practicing, but she is always happy to play it. Furina clears her throat and claps her hands together and Neuvillette startles in his seat, looking up at her with wide eyes.
“Monsieur Neuvillette, it’s been an absolute age since I’ve last seen you. Are you free? Let’s have lunch and catch up. It will be my treat!” She skips behind the desk and looks out the window. She places a hand against the window pane and she can feel the water pound against the glass. She spins to look back at Neuvillette, who is gathering the papers in a pile and setting them off to the side of his desk.
“I had wanted to try this new restaurant in the Quartier Lyonnais, but the weather is dreadful, is it not? No matter. I can order something no problem. Surintendante Chevalmarin! Mademoiselle Crabaletta!” Furina calls.
Surintendante Chevalmarin bursts into existence next to Neuvillette, who pats her on the head in greeting. She flips in the air in delight before calming herself. Mademoiselle Crabaletta busies herself with setting up a table for the two of them to share a meal while Surintendante Chevalmarin flutters off with the lunch order.
“Lady Furina, not that I don’t appreciate the visit - ”
“Then your appreciation need not be voiced!” Furina smiles, walking over to stand at Neuvillette’s shoulder. A quick glance down at the papers Neuvillette tried to hide does not give her any information and he quickly puts those papers away in a drawer when he notices her looking. She does catch the word “Southampton” written at the top of the page. “Please, please, I insist. You know what I’m like when I don’t get what I want.”
“Do I?” Neuvillette asks with a serious expression. She does not understand what he could possibly mean by that. Still, he takes her outstretched and follows her to the settee while Mademoiselle Crabaletta prepares and sets his tea table.
She begins regaling him with tales of the production. “The tickets should be going on sale in the next two weeks, but of course you will be receiving a complimentary ticket. You simply must attend opening night. It’s not at the Opera Epiclese because poor Luc doesn’t think he deserves something so grand so you might have to go little out of your way, but I think it is more than worth the trip. The script is something special and the cast are all such stars! A constellation of them, even.” She laughs at the cleverness of her pun. Neuvillette does not interject much beyond asking a few genuine questions here and there, but that pinched look on his face has faded into a gentle smile. The storm outside has settled somewhat, but the rain has not yet stopped.
Surintendante Chevalmarin had done an admirable job in keeping the food dry, though she is a bit bloated when she returns. Water drips off of her in a trail behind her wake and Sedene follows behind her with a mop while Mademoiselle Crabaletta plates the food.
“Monsieur Neuvillette, I have been trying for hundreds of years to get you to expand your tastes,” Furina pouts, pointing at Neuvillette’s plain soup with her food-ladden fork with something approaching real despair. “Here, here! Try the aspic. The taste is very subtle and the texture is somewhat close to water. Or, well, it’s very smooth. Try it! Try it!”
Furina’s persistence pays off and Neuvillette takes a tentative bite of the dish. He does not share any thoughts on the quality of the dish, but he’s able to keep his expression neutral when he takes a few more bites of his own free will.
Seemingly emboldened by his adventurousness, he even decides to try the cream of mushroom soup! He does not finish it, but he only looks moderately offended by its existence. A day of nothing but wins for Furina!
But still it rains.
“Lady Furina,” Neuvillette begins, turning to face her straight on. Does she have something on her face? She dabs her mouth with a napkin and is dismayed to find how much chocolate frosting was on her upper lip. “I will say that I am very glad to see you in good spirits. It has been a while since I have seen you this energetic.”
“It took a while,” Furina smiles and it’s light, not weighed down by anything. She looks out through the window to acknowledge the grey skies and pouring rain. “But it seems that your spirits are not so uplifted.”
Neuvillette sighs. “I suppose there is no hiding it.”
“Might I ask what is causing such low spirits, then?”
“It has to do with an ongoing case.”
“I figured as much,” Furina laughs. “I suppose as an ordinary citizen, I am no longer privy to the confidential details of the case, but whatever you would like to share with me, I will take great care with it.”
“I know.”
Neuvillette does not say anything for some time. He gets up to stand and walks behind his desk to stand at the window. After a few minutes of standing, he summons his cane to rest his weight on it. Furina does not follow him, she sits right where she is and sips on her post-lunch tea.
She knows he is looking in the direction of the Fortress of Meropide.
“It is to do with the Southampton case.”
Furina suspected as much. “The Duke’s former foster brother?”
Neuvillette sighs and readjusts his grip on his cane. This was his equivalent of slumping down to the floor and screaming.
“I fear that many have made that particular connection, but yes, you are correct.”
“No, no,” Furina shakes her head, setting down her now cold cup of tea. “I don’t think many people have or else it would be plastered all over the Steambird, no matter how fearsome the Duke’s reputation. I just remember his trial very clearly.”
“I suppose that is true.”
She had read of the Southhampton case in the Steambird, but it was really just mentioned in a short blurb in a longer article criticizing the length of trials since the decommissioning of the Oratrice. Trials now were boring, dragging on and on as each side argued their side at length now that they were at the mercy of mortal - as far as they were aware - judgment rather than divine.
In the years after Wriothesley’s murder of his foster parents and subsequent arrest, most of his foster siblings had been scattered to the wind. Some had been legitimately adopted by other families to varying degrees of success. Some clawed their ways out of their miserable circumstances and now live a comfortable life. Some have even joined the Maison Gardiennage. Others had fallen by the wayside and found themselves in the Fortress of Meropide.
Southampton had, supposedly, become one of the success stories. After discovering the fate that he and his siblings were almost victim to, he had devoted the rest of his life to making sure that no child experienced such a betrayal ever again. He had become a social worker in the employ of Fontaine’s foster care system and went on to open his own orphanage where the lost children of Fontaine could live, learn, and grow in a safe environment, out of the clutches of the House of the Hearth.
Oh, if only that were true.
“Southampton is fighting tooth, claw, and nail against the accusations because he knows what awaits him once he steps foot in the Fortress of Meropide where the only laws that exist are the ones enforced by Wriothesley’s hands.” Neuvillette pinches the space between his eyes - which is his version of wailing in despair. “I must admit that I am getting exhausted from listening to his lies. His lawyers are very good; however, at stalling for time while their ‘investigations’ attempt to find anything to refute the veritable mountain of evidence against him.”
Furina gets up now to walk closer to Neuvillette, her heels clicking against the tile to let him know she is there but still giving him the space of the desk between them.
Outside, the rains whips into a storm.
“For the duration of this trial, I have heard testimonies from his victims, listened to various correspondences between him and his…clients, seen photographs linking him to these crimes, partaking in those crimes himself, and still he tries to deny the truth! He is a cruel and evil man, but he is not stupid. Surely he knows how this story will conclude, but still he lies. Why?”
He still stares out into the direction of the Fortress. Furina wonders if she is the intended audience for this speech.
“Is it not natural to want to defend oneself from consequence and punishment, especially when that punishment will undoubtedly be death?”
“But the punishment is justified. He is the one in the wrong.”
“I’m not denying that. Southampton is a despicable man, even more so because of origins, but if he was a good enough man to accept this punishment for his wrongdoings, he would not have committed those sins in the first place. Perhaps he even believes that he didn’t do anything wrong. Perhaps he thinks that this is just the natural order of things.”
“But -”
“I know it doesn’t make any sense.” Furina walks to Neuvillette’s side of the desk, leaning on it next to his seat. “ I know it’s not logical, but if everyone operated on sense and logic, what need would there be for justice?”
Neuvillette sighs and turns to face her. He looks very old in this moment. She wonders what he can see when he looks at her. “We have been doing this for a very long time and yet I still find myself feeling surprised.”
“Surprised by?”
“All the different ways people can hurt each other. All the different ways people can hurt themselves.”
“I know.”
“Lady Furina, did you ever wonder…?”
“Oh, all the time.”
“And yet you walked steadfastly along this path. How?”
“All the different ways that people can help each other,” she says after a moment. “All the different ways people can help themselves. Is that not the beauty of being alive? That you can be so many different things at the same time and still be yourself?”
She heaves herself off the desk and moves to stand next to Neuvillette. She stares out the window and looks at the sea.
“Southampton is at once a despicable villain and a crying child who was betrayed by the people who were meant to keep him safe. The Duke is at once a man with blood on his hands and no remorse and the benevolent administrator of Fontaine’s lost souls. They are also a million things besides that. The purpose of justice is to find the center of all these things, the reason, and to pass judgment from there. It seems impossible to be fair towards the crying child and the murderer at the same time, but I think it is an ideal worth pursuing. Is it not?”
A lengthy pause. She can see Neuvillette turning her words over in his mind. Finally -
“It is.”
With that, Furina turns to wave Mademoiselle Crabaletta and Surintendante Chevalmarin to clean up their lunch and pack up any leftovers. She directs them to leave the soup for Neuvillette, but the remaining cakes belong to her. “I’ll let you get back to your work. I’ve taken up enough of your time. Make sure you set aside some time to attend the show’s premiere! I really think you’ll like it!”
Neuvillette returns her smile with one of his own, lighter, and walks her to the door. “Thank you for coming, Lady Furina. If the whim ever strikes you again, please do not hesitate to visit once more.”
We close this tale on the following shot:
Lady Furina de Fontaine - retired actor, award-winning director, connoisseur of sweets, little soul of the chorus master - skips out of the Palais Mermonia and is greeted by clear skies.
Fin.