Inside the Grand Theatre of the Tatte Kingdom, the nobles and mages enjoying the entr'acte whispered among one another, animatedly discussing this utterly different form of opera.
Since opera had gradually risen to prominence, the through-composed structure had been the unquestioned mainstream. Even those who attempted improvements only tweaked it slightly—no one dared to abandon the extraordinarily successful traditional model outright. The nobles and commoners of the Holm Kingdom had grown accustomed to this kind of opera as well, loving the individual arias and choruses, savoring the impact and emotional power of the great vocal set pieces. As for the actual plot the opera was meant to convey, they generally only knew the gist—enough to appreciate the feelings embedded in the singing and music.
As for more detailed storylines and the specific iconic lines of dialogue, they had only fully learned and spread those by word of mouth after watching the stage play of the same name.
In the past, when stories were relatively simple and not particularly tightly constructed, this had posed no real problem—it didn't hinder their enjoyment of the opera, the music, the singing, or the basic story. But as drama evolved, playwrights including Oliver and other luminaries had begun crafting richer, more intricately plotted and emotionally compelling narratives. When people listened to operas, they increasingly got the sense that certain passages of singing stood apart from the plot, existing purely as displays of vocal technique. Music and story began to drift apart.
Still, this tension was still developing—it had not yet reached the critical point demanding change. So today, after hearing the first act of Lucian Evans's "Valkyrie," they found themselves unable to adapt, forgetting the etiquette of opera attendance, and discussing it with tremendous enthusiasm.
"The entire act is one large division?" Duchess Stephanie, wife of Duke James, chatted with the young Lady Jane beside her.
Jane's black hair had a slight natural curl, draping gently over her shoulders—much like the impression she herself gave. In noble circles, she was known as "the quiet doll."
"They call it a division, but I think it's more like a symphony—the theme is the content contained within the prelude. And the boundary between recitative and aria seems to have blurred as well. The only passage I could definitively confirm as an aria was that classic monologue after the princess fled into the forest. At other times, the characteristics of the two seemed to merge…" Jane's soft voice offered the explanation to Stephanie.
In all the operas she had attended before, this was the first time she had felt story and melody merge so harmoniously. Despite the unfamiliarity, she had been completely absorbed into the atmosphere they jointly created—worried for the princess's plight, hating the tyrannical new king, loathing the scheming chancellor, grieving for the loyal handmaiden who had perished. Under the spell of these emotions, every line of singing, every passage of melody, seemed to resound within her heart, striking her very soul—exquisitely beautiful and overwhelmingly moving.
It was only when the entr'acte began that Jane slowly recalled the opera she had just heard, eloquently recounting its innovations—how certain recitatives had taken on more of a singing quality, while the arias occasionally carried characteristics of dramatic speech…
After listening quietly to Jane's explanation, Duchess Stephanie and Duke James beside her exchanged an amused, relieved glance. "A single act constitutes an entire symphony? Truly worthy of Master Evans, who hails from Altor."
There, the brilliance of the symphony overshadowed all else, and when discussing music, they preferred to address Lucian as "Master."
Following the fervent discussion, the nobles had each formed their own opinions. The overwhelming majority agreed that while it was somewhat jarring, "Valkyrie" was at the very least of an impressive standard thus far. The princess's aria after her escape from danger—recounting her parents, her loyal handmaiden, and her enemies, reflecting upon her own circumstances—was nothing short of a classic, a truly rare gem among the compositions of recent years.
A master was indeed a master!
Inside the private box, facing Oliver's questions, Lucian cheerfully shared his creative philosophy with him, a quiet pride swelling in his chest. Though the innovation had been inspired by Mr. Wagner's operatic reforms on Earth, the plot, melodies, songs, and structural design of this opera were entirely his own creation!
Hearing Lucian's answer, Oliver blinked in surprise, then broke into a broad smile. "I love this philosophy! Music and singing should serve the narrative content. The composers who adapted my plays into operas before just couldn't grasp this simple truth—which is precisely why they could never create an opera that satisfied me. I've always disliked their adaptations. If only I could have collaborated with you on opera sooner!"
Lucian had initially expected Oliver to adopt at least a somewhat conservative stance toward such a sweeping transformation. To find him embrace it so readily came as a mild surprise—though he quickly understood. Oliver was a playwright; having narrative as the driving force naturally suited his sensibilities. His priorities were exactly right.
Beside him, Natasha hummed the princess's monologue from earlier, while Fernando gently tapped the armrest, seemingly anticipating the start of the next act.
In the small town of Samara, at Baron Betschger's Square.
Faced with an opera that so thoroughly overturned every past convention, the townspeople had fallen silent. If asked whether it was bad—they had been completely immersed when listening to the first act, moved to the core by the story, the characters' fates, the melodies, and the singers' performances. But if asked whether it was good, something still felt off. Opera wasn't supposed to be like this.
"This is definitely the future direction of opera! 'The Atom's Master' is a musical genius—how could his vision possibly be wrong?" a passionate symphony enthusiast suddenly declared in a loud voice.
His shout shattered the brief silence, and the townspeople erupted into excited chatter:
"Exactly, exactly! How could our understanding possibly compare to a great musician's?"
"That opera was definitely better than anything we've heard before—and much more engaging to watch, too!"
"So that's what top-tier opera singers and performers are like—what we've heard in the past simply can't compare!"
"A single appearance from them earns more than you could make in a whole year!"
Banus gazed at the magnificent Kingdom Grand Theatre displayed on the "Curtain," his expression unusually somber. "Before today, I never imagined I would get to see and hear the finest opera singers and performers in the world. That was supposed to be a privilege reserved for the high nobility. Yet now, it's all been realized so effortlessly—even here in Samara, we can watch an opera staged inside the Kingdom Grand Theatre. Arcane Magic is truly wondrous, and the changes it brings are actually something we get to enjoy!"
"Mm, I'm growing more and more excited about the 'Voice of Mysteries' and their 'Arcane Civilization' initiative," Ali murmured, his eyes fixed on the shifting images and sounds on the "Curtain" with an intoxicated gaze. "Maybe one day we won't even need to leave our homes to see what's happening in Lentas. Maybe…"
The ever-changing images and sound on the "Curtain" drew Ali's rapt fascination—this was the kind of power the Church had once claimed belonged to gods alone!
Thinking of the earth-shaking transformations Arcane Magic had brought, of all the changes swirling around him, Ali felt a faint sense of unease. Everything was hurtling forward at breakneck speed—and what about himself? Stuck forever in a small town, aging without surprise, just like his father and grandfather before him?
The prelude to the second act of "Valkyrie" began to play. Amid the intensity and tension, a thread of warmth wove through the music, instantly stirring anticipation.
In this act, Princess Amantha would face many dangers in the forest, gradually growing into a true knight. Then, during a desperate pursuit against overwhelming odds, she would tumble from a cliff—gravely wounded, nearly dead—only to be saved by a passing Great Knight.