Pefforth County, small town of Samara, Baron Bechig's Square.
The crowd was still lost in the song that seemed to erupt from the very depths of their souls. Silence blanketed the square—so complete that even the fussy babies cradled in their parents' arms, sensitive to the atmosphere, had fallen quiet. The entire square seemed imprisoned in a cage of time.
This sensation—the very soul trembling—was something they had never experienced before. In past operas, the music had been music and the plot had been plot. The two not only failed to complement and elevate each other, they had actually fallen out of sync. So even though the history of opera contained a number of truly iconic arias, most audience members, their emotions either misaligned or disjointed from the performance, could never achieve that deep resonance with the music. Naturally, it was exceedingly rare to feel the soul stirred in such a beautiful, profound way.
But this time with "The Valkyrie," the plot was built up step by step, the melodies rendered with the full force of a complete symphony, and the interplay between the two achieved an effect far beyond a simple "one plus one." The audience's emotions were fully drawn into the story, into the music, rising and falling with every surge of battle, every thread of grief and joy.
That was why, when "The Charge" sounded, they felt as though they themselves stood on that battlefield, charging alongside the princess. That was why, when "The Tombstone of Heroes" was sung from the princess's lips, they could genuinely feel the pathos, the sorrow, the longing, the resolve, and the soul-deep transcendence—why their scalps prickled and a shiver of emotion rose from the very core of their being.
Lucian would not claim that this opera's story was perfect, surpassing every playwright's work, but he could say with pride that its impact on the audience was without precedent.
For a long moment, only low voices murmured across the square:
"Heroes never truly die."
"They only slowly fade in people's memories."
One young woman could not contain herself and began to softly sing the final aria. Though she did not have the ethereal voice of the singer playing the princess, nor her coloratura high notes—and in fact, having just learned it, she stumbled on some of the harder passages—she sang with equal devotion and feeling, as though she too had witnessed comrades and friends falling one by one at her side for a noble cause. She felt it as her own.
That barely audible, gossamer thread of song broke the silence of the square and set off a chain reaction. Bahnus, Ali, and the others opened their mouths one after another, humming along:
"Bury my bones, raise no tombstone over me."
"These fertile plains and thriving cities shall be our finest monument!"
The singing echoed through Baron Bechig's Square, again and again, as though the spirits of heroes watched over the beloved homeland they could not bear to leave.
A long time passed before the townspeople finally emerged from the spell, turning to one another in excited discussion—discussing "The Valkyrie," discussing the changes Master Evans had brought to opera, discussing classics like "Dawn" and "The Charge," discussing arias like "The Tombstone of Heroes" that transcended the mundane, discussing the top-tier opera performers and that fearsome-looking dragon, discussing this spectacular feast of sight and sound delivered by alchemical means.
In the midst of all this, Ali's expression shifted several times. Then, abruptly, he turned and strode toward the edge of the square.
"Ali, where are you going?" Bahnus had been excitedly exchanging impressions of the evening with a stranger beside him. Spotting Ali's departure, he was startled and puzzled. Wasn't Ali the one who loved a crowd more than anyone? Was there anywhere more lively than the square right now? Hadn't he felt even the slightest urge to share his feelings after watching the opera?
Ali's voice was serious, laced with a barely suppressed thrill: "Home."
"Home? What for?" Bahnus abandoned his conversation with the stranger and hurried after Ali, baffled.
Ali's right hand clenched unconsciously: "To pack. I'm going to Lontard."
"What?! Lontard? Ali, have you lost your mind?" Bahnus thought he must be hallucinating. How had Ali suddenly decided to go to Lontard? That was the kingdom's capital, not some backwater town!
Ali shook his head: "I haven't lost my mind. I've thought this through very carefully. I'm going to Lontard. I'm not going to spend my entire life in Samara, stuck in a small town."
"But—what's so wrong with a small town?" Bahnus blurted in shock.
Ali drew a deep breath and pointed at the alchemical "curtain" hanging behind them in the square: "Bahnus, do you see this? Alchemical items that let us see distant sights and hear distant sounds. They mean that even in a small town, we can enjoy an opera being performed in Lontard."
"Right—so a small town can enjoy it too. Then why bother going to Lontard?" Bahnus was even more bewildered.
Ali sighed slowly: "Bahnus, what does this kind of alchemical item represent? What does it mean that even a small town can have something like this?"
He answered his own question: "It means that our kingdom, the era we live in, is undergoing transformations unlike anything in the past several hundred years. Every single day, something new is born. Every single day, you can feel the surging vitality all around you."
Bahnus nodded. Even here in the small town of Samara, he could feel it through the changes happening all around.
"Those changes are like a flood, rushing toward us—there's no way we can hold them back. All we can do is adapt. But I refuse—I refuse to stagnate in an era when everything is changing so dramatically. Bahnus, think about it carefully. Don't these great transformations and developments brim with opportunity? If we seize even one of them, our lives could be completely different."
"I refuse to live in a small town like a stagnant pool—peacefully inheriting my father's position, becoming some clerk's assistant, then marrying a girl of equal standing without any surprises, having children, growing busy, growing old. That life, so clearly laid out from the very beginning, terrifies me. Has my fate been decided before I even start? So I'm going to Lontard to chase my own dream, to find my own place in this great wave of development that is changing the world itself, and to give everything I have to every step forward."