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The curtain has risen and fallen to mark a performance almost every single night for the past 5 years in this tiny village on the Rhodos Coast. A lone songstress of foreign origin graces the shoddy stage, singing a melody of once exoticised, now familiar tunes to the crowd below.
None of these villagers have attended more than an amateur performance before this woman appeared– the Mittlefrank Opera House in Enbarr was a lifetime away and a single performance would cost more than a years’ salary when it was open. And in war? The chances of seeing anything grander was less likely than finding gold.
When the songstress sings her last song of the night, after not one, but two encores that the crowd demanded, the curtain closes to thunderous applause from those seeking respite in wartime. Their previously weary faces now wear bright smiles, and despite how exhausted she is, the songstress peeks through the curtain to see the grateful faces and buzzing conversations of the villagers, content that another night of singing had now concluded.
There was much to do after the curtain had closed: split the money with the fiddler, sweep the floor, clean the benches the crowd sat on, and pick out a new dress for tomorrow’s performance. The songstress stretches for a moment, allowing herself a moment’s respite before counting the coin that sat in the hat.
106 gold for the night, 53 each. Not terrible, all things considered, especially as the Faerghus Dukedom was wringing the people of Faerghus drier and drier to extract every drop of what little money they had left. The middle-aged fiddler hums in content as she hands him his coin, giving her a nod of the head as he heads back to his wife and four children.
53 gold a day is considered an entire day’s salary to these people, yet it was mere pocket change to me before everything happened… the songstress thinks to herself as she tucks away her half of the coin. She gets down from the stage to grab a broom and dustpan to clean up the crumbs of bread that dropped from some of the audience members, only to be stopped by a voice calling out a name she hadn’t gone by in some time.
“Viviane Alina Astelei…” the voice hums in content, “Seems my lead was right, you were in Faerghus this whole time.” She turns her head to see who exactly it was, even if the voice sounded a touch familiar. It couldn’t have been an Imperial or Dukedom soldier come to seize her, right? Or had her luck finally run out?
She holds her breath when she sees just who was calling her name. Yuri Leclerc, an old classmate of hers back at the Officer’s Academy. Many of their classmates had joined the warfront on the side of the Empire, even some Faerghans, particularly on the western front…Was he the same?
“You were looking for me?” She asks to try to gauge his intentions. If need be, she knew magic, and could sling a few blasts of thunder his way.
“Calm yourself, I’m not here to capture you on behalf of anyone. You wouldn’t exactly have a mouth ungagged if I needed to,” he jokes as he shows off the lone dagger at his hip, trying to reassure her that it’s alright.
“I never said–”
“The panicked look in your eyes says enough, you look like a rabbit whose foot was caught in a trap, dove.”
She conceded that one. Acting was never really her strong suit, even back at the academy when she thought playing up her proper status exoticizing herself would net her more friends. All it did was just make people think she was an oddball, rather than a proper lady of a foreign land.
“If not that, then um…Why come to see me?” she thinks for a moment to guess what the answer was. The resistance forces in Faerghus were struggling, but surely trying to recruit more faceless numbers was more important than trying to recruit a former minor noble that wasn’t even from Fodlan.
“The millennium is supposed to occur soon,” he explains, “Are you planning on fulfilling your end of the promise we all made 5 years ago?”
The promise at the ball…It had been so long she’d nearly forgotten how every single member of their class had vowed to return to Garreg Mach 5 years later at the Millenium Festival, as a sort of class reunion. At the time, the biggest factor to consider was that many of those in their class would likely rise to their parents’ positions, and would have to figure out an arrangement to take time off from that. Now? The war had halted nearly all celebrations, and Garreg Mach was in ruins, and not a soul would dare make the pilgrimage now.
“There isn’t going to be a festival, I thought,” she raises an eyebrow at his question, before answering it with a question of her own, “Why bother?”
“Because, my dear friend, I gathered a bit of intel. And it seems that a certain prince assumed to be dead might actually still be alive, and moreover, is headquartered alone in the monastery.”
“What? But I thought he was executed, how could he possibly have escaped that?”
“Considering how murky the details were, not to mention such an important execution is normally carried out publicly, there were rumors swirling around for years. Now the question now is trying to cross over the mountains to find him.”
“And…Will there be others joining you?”
“Nearly everyone in our class seems to want to attempt it. Even those who previously allied with the Empire out of necessity.”
Viviane looks down at the bread crumbs she was cleaning up, then back up at Yuri. The life of a performer was far less grand than she previously thought, and if there was a chance to turn the tide to help those harmed by the oppressive policies of the Dukedom…
“Are you certain this will work?” she asks as a final question as she sets the broom to the side. She could finally make a change in this world, not just for herself, but for others. But was this even worth it? Would this truly succeed and change the fortunes of all those plagued by all these terrible circumstances?
“While the others are a touch too idealistic for their own good, I don’t play any games that I have no hope of winning,” he gives her a reassuring smile, extending a hand to her, “I can’t guarantee it, as one false move will be our end, however, it certainly beats praying for a salvation that will never come. What do you say?”
Viviane takes his hand without a second thought.