Wheeeeeng—!!

 

A biting wind whipped across the Northern Wall Fortress, a bastion of stone and ice, perpetually shrouded in snow and frost. This was where the Saint Beatrice and Phantom’s troupe arrived.

 

The play they had collaborated on, <Exodus>, with the choir and the church personnel, was ready to be performed here.

 

“Welcome, Your Holiness!”

 

A military officer snapped to attention the moment he saw Saint Beatrice, saluting smartly. He glanced at Phantom and the troupe, then made his report with reverence.

 

“Thank you for coming, Your Holiness! We have gathered all the paladins who are off duty today in the fortress training ground! They are all eagerly awaiting the start of the performance!”

 

“Thank you. Please, escort them inside.”

 

“At once!” the officer responded energetically, leading them towards the training grounds. The vast space had been cleared of its usual training equipment and a makeshift stage had been erected.

 

“Alright, men, settle down! As you’ve been informed, Her Holiness has prepared a special performance for you all! Let’s show our gratitude for Her Holiness’s compassion and watch with reverence!”

 

The officer commanded the orderly lines of paladins. Despite the cold and hardships, their discipline was impressive.

 

“…………..…”

 

“………..……”

 

However, the paladins remained unnervingly silent. There were no cheers, no anticipation. Their faces were etched with a deep weariness and despair—a weariness and despair that couldn’t be dispelled by a single visit from a Saint or a play.

 

“This fortress was built during the era of the First Emperor to fend off the demonic hordes, a collaborative effort between the Empire and the Church.”

 

Saint Beatrice’s breath formed white clouds in the frigid air as she began to speak quietly. Her pale cheeks had turned a rosy red from the cold. She stood some distance away from the actors, the choir, and the paladins in the audience, speaking quietly with Phantom.

 

“Those who stand guard here face constant peril. The environment itself is as unforgiving as any battlefield. Yet, the paladins, bound by faith, defend it with unwavering conviction.”

 

“……….……”

 

“Do you understand what I mean, Phantom?”

 

Her eyelids, framed by long, silvery lashes, fluttered closed and then opened, her gaze fixed on Phantom.

 

“If this performance of <Exodus> fails, we all might have to pay a steep price. Not just you and me, but also the citizens who live safely and happily in the warm south.”

 

Even the protection of the heavens relied on the will of humankind. The nations that shared the faith provided support, but it wasn’t enough. If the will of those who guarded the wall wavered, everything would crumble. 

 

But Phantom’s answer was as confident as ever.

 

“Do not worry, Your Holiness. I swear, there will be no failure.”

 

As always, his confidence bordered on arrogance. He seemed to have immense pride in the quality of <Exodus>.

 

“Ufufu, is that so?” the Saint chuckled softly, a surprisingly girlish sound escaping her lips. “Very well. You have my full attention, Phantom. Let’s see if your genius will shine through once again.”

 

“You flatter me, Your Holiness.”

 

The playwright feigned modesty in response to her words, but Beatrice wasn’t simply offering empty flattery.

 

‘Writing is a clear window into the soul, Phantom,’ Beatrice narrowed her eyes subtly, her pale, sightless eyes moving gently as she pondered silently. ‘Through this performance, I intend to discover the meaning behind your strange soul.’

 

There was no denying his talent; he had penned hit after hit that had taken the Empire by storm. However, there was something undeniably peculiar about his soul—something unprecedented.

 

And she would take this opportunity to see it for herself.

 

How well this man could write a religious play exalting the Divine One?

 

What the true colors of his soul, reflected through his work, would reveal?

 

⌠…This story takes place in a distant past, in a pagan kingdom known as Egypt, and recounts a tale both mystical and divine.⌡

 

Right on cue, the narration began, providing the introduction.

 

With that as the starting signal, the curtain for <Exodus> officially rose.

 

✧❅✦❅✧

 

The Christian Bible is divided into two main parts — the Old Testament and the New Testament.

 

The Old Testament tells the stories of the time before the coming of Jesus, while the New Testament recounts his life and teachings.

 

And in the Old Testament, no figure looms larger than Moses. Before Moses came onto the scene, the Hebrew people were nothing more than lowly slaves.

 

[Work! You lazy slaves!]

 

[Build the pyramids for the glory of Pharaoh, your god-king!]

 

The oppressors of Egypt, who worshipped false gods, inflicted suffering on the Hebrews, who worshipped the one true God.

 

Building massive pyramids under the scorching sun while being whipped was the norm. They were also forced to construct the store cities of Pithom and Raamses.

 

And then came the order—every newborn Hebrew boy was to be cast into the Nile and drowned, a desperate measure to prevent any possible uprising.

 

[Aaah, no! My baby!]

 

[Our child! Have mercy, please! Kill me instead!]

 

[Silence, Hebrew scum!]

 

[Throw all the newborns to the crocodiles! It is the decree of Pharaoh, the incarnation of Horus!]

 

The Egyptian soldiers, heartlessly reciting their lines, snatched away the prop cradles, leaving the Hebrew mothers in their wake, stricken by the unimaginable grief of losing their children.

 

As wails echoed throughout the slave villages,

 

[Aaah, Elohim! Our God, where are you?]

 

The Hebrews cried out the name of the God who seemed to have abandoned them, tearing at their chests in anguish.

 

[Why do you abandon us? Can you not hear the cries of your people?]

 

[The sting of the whip, the bitter salt of our sweat… why have you forsaken us?]

 

[Save us! Deliver us! Lead us to the promised land of milk and honey!]

 

“……..……!”

 

The paladins, who had been so apathetic until now, began to react with jerks and twitches.

 

The heart-wrenching cries of the Hebrews under Egyptian oppression struck a chord with them, reminding them of their own plight.

 

And that was precisely the effect I intended to achieve.

 

‘Perception of art depends heavily on the viewer’s circumstances.’

 

This had been proven time and time again throughout history. One example, from the 1950s, was the absurdist play, <Waiting for Godot>.

 

<Waiting for Godot> was a play in which two men waited for a man named “Godot.” But Godot never actually appeared on stage, from the beginning of the play to the very end.

 

When Samuel Beckett first presented this experimental play, the public was baffled. From a layperson’s perspective, <Waiting for Godot> seemed like a bizarre and unintelligible mess.

 

But in November 1957, when the play was performed at San Quentin State Prison in California, the 1,400 inmates who witnessed it wept and gave it a standing ovation. 

 

Prisoners deprived of their freedom easily related to the frustration of endlessly waiting for something. They understood that even if ‘Godot’ were to actually appear, the reality could be bitterly disappointing compared to their expectations.

 

Meanwhile, the play continued to unfold.

 

[Forgive me, my child. May God watch over you. I’ll pray every day that you find safety and happiness.]

 

Jochebed, Moses’ birth mother, who had been hiding her newborn son from the Egyptian soldiers, finally placed baby Moses into a basket made of bulrushes and set him afloat on the Nile River, hoping against all odds for his survival.

 

And, miraculously, that hope was not in vain.

 

The Egyptian princess, bathing nearby on the Nile, discovered the drifting baby Moses and took him as her own, raising him with loving care.

 

[Oh my! What a beautiful baby!]

 

The princess was aware of the baby’s likely heritage. Despite this, she unhesitatingly adopted him, in part because there was already considerable opposition within Egypt to Pharaoh’s decree to massacre all Hebrew newborn males.

 

[I will name him Moses and raise him as my own]

 

[From this day forward, he shall be my son, a prince of Egypt.]

 

And so it was that Pharaoh’s wicked attempt to quell a slave rebellion led to the rise of the slaves’ savior. Moses was raised in the lap of luxury, a prince of Egypt.

 

But that comfort was short-lived.

 

As he grew older, he saw the beating and oppression of his Hebrew brothers, and his heart seethed. Then one day, in his righteous anger, he slew an Egyptian overseer who was maltreating a Hebrew slave and buried the body in the sand.

 

Overwhelmed with guilt and fear, Moses fled into the wilderness, eventually finding refuge among the Midianites. There he met Jethro, a priest, and began a new life as a shepherd.

 

Forty years passed — Moses spent the next 40 years among the nomads, shepherding, a life far removed from his troubled past.

 

[Moses, my son, Moses.]

 

One day, while searching for a lost lamb, he strayed far from his usual paths, not knowing he was about to encounter a burning bush on the slopes of Mountain Horeb.

 

[Who… who are you?]

 

[I am the God of your ancestors. I have seen the suffering of my people in Egypt. I have heard their cries.]

 

The voice actor, enhanced with sonorous sound effects, intoned these words in a way that was both ethereal and warm, using technological tricks to deepen the impact of the divine encounter.

 

Before the prop of the burning bush, the actor playing Moses, Mr. Renoir, knelt in confusion, and the voice actor spoke to him.

 

[Therefore, I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people out of Egypt.]

 

[But… but who am I to appear before Pharaoh? Who am I to lead them out of Egypt? I’m not eloquent… I’m slow of speech and tongue… what if they ask me your name? What should I tell them?]

 

[Moses, who gave human beings their mouths? Who makes them deaf or mute? Who gives them sight or makes them blind? Is it not I, the Lord?]

 

Moses hesitated, unable to accept his destiny as the savior of the Hebrew people. The voice of God rang out, stern and reproachful, chastising him for his doubt and timidity.

 

But God did not simply rebuke Moses for his apprehension. He offered him reassurance and aid.

 

[I will be with you, Moses. I will help you speak and will teach you what to say. And I will give you a sign.]

 

As the voice actor spoke, soft, multicolored lights illuminated the stage, creating an illusion of divine love enveloping the protagonist.

 

[Moses, raise your staff.]

 

[Through this staff, you will perform my miracles…]

 

As the last reminders from God echoed and the flames on the bush prop slowly died out, Moses realized that what he had witnessed was not a mere illusion.

 

With the acceptance of his fate, Moses prepared to change course.

 

His people were enduring endless suffering.

 

It was time to return to his homeland, the Kingdom of Egypt, where his Hebrew brothers and sisters awaited him.

 

✧❅✦❅✧

 

“Phantom? Are you sure this is enough?”

 

During the interval, as <Exodus> paused for a break, Saint Beatrice asked me while watching the murmuring holy knights from her seat.

 

A hint of uncertainty shadowed her expression as she nervously chewed on her lip.

 

“I can’t deny that it’s a fascinating work. But, you haven’t forgotten our original purpose, right? What the paladins need right now is…”

 

I understood what part of it might be worrying her.

 

The play had succeeded in engaging the paladins with its gripping beginning; they were all eagerly waiting for the play to resume, curiosity etched on their faces.

 

But, so far, “Exodus” had been nothing more than entertainment. It was no different from any other religious play. It hadn’t yet delivered that decisive blow to the heart that would rekindle their faith and bolster their morale.

 

But that was only for now.

 

“Have you ever heard the saying, ‘The pen is mightier than the sword?’”

 

“No. It’s my first time hearing that.”

 

She shook her head at my question, causing me to shrug and explain its meaning.

 

“A sword can only cut one target at a time, but a pen, through its ‘influence,’ can strike multiple targets simultaneously. Sometimes, well-written words can change the world faster and more effectively than a well-forged sword.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

Saint Beatrice gazed at me with a slightly puzzled expression. She probably thought, ‘Isn’t a sword stronger than a pen in a fight?’ Of course, what I had just shared was merely a metaphorical phrase. It wasn’t as if the pen was an actual Excalibur, literally stronger than a sword.

 

“Have you forgotten the revelation God bestowed upon Moses?” I asked, a sly grin spreading beneath my mask. “He will be their voice and strength, just as God promised. So, let us keep the faith and see this through to the end. Let us walk with Moses as he returns to the land of the pagans to deliver his people.”

 

For a moment, she blinked rapidly, as if searching for words. Her sightless eyes, lost long ago, seemed to twinkle with realization. She looked so much like a bewildered white rabbit that I almost wanted to pet her.

 

Not that I would actually do that, as it would certainly be a blasphemous act.

 

“Ah, it seems they’re about to resume the play.”

 

Mr. Renoir and the other actors were returning to the stage, gathering their props. Behind them, the choir was getting ready to sing.

 

Glancing at them, I turned back to Saint Beatrice.

 

“Let’s enjoy the performance together. Let’s see how Moses manages to save the Hebrews.”

 

— End of Chapter —