Chapter 511: A Little Entertainment

After finishing lunch at the restaurant, Cherion and Derrick spent the rest of the afternoon doing what any two young nobles with far too much pocket money and free time would do. They wandered through the high-end market quarter, stopping at boutique shops, picking up odd little trinkets, and snacking on fresh snacks straight from street vendors.

It was simple, mindless fun, and for a few hours, Cherion completely forgot about the heavy weight of court politics, mysterious illnesses, and bitter glances from the crowd. He simply let himself be a young man enjoying an afternoon with a friend.

Their final stop of the day, naturally, was the grand theater in the central plaza.

Going out in the capital without catching an afternoon play was almost unthinkable for high society. When they arrived at the grand arching facade of the playhouse, Cherion couldn’t help but quietly appreciate the fantasy setup over modern cinemas back in his previous life. There were no sticky floors, no overcrowded dark rooms, no noisy teenagers kicking the back of his seat, and no drafty air conditioning blowing directly onto the back of his neck.

Instead, they were ushered up a plush, burgundy-carpeted staircase by an attentive usher into a lavish, private VIP box overlooking the main stage.

"Ah, this is much better," Cherion sighed as he sank into a deep, velvet-cushioned armchair inside their private booth. He unceremoniously kicked off his boots, resting his feet up onto a padded footrest and propping his chin on his palm as he looked out over the gilded brass railing. "Now this is how a performance should be watched."

Derrick, who had just sat down in the armchair beside him, burst into a light, airy laugh at Cherion’s complete lack of formal posture. "You know, if my mother saw you pulling your feet up like that in a royal theater box, she’d faint on the spot and lecture you for three hours about aristocrat decorum."

"Good thing your mother isn’t here," Cherion replied with an easy, untroubled grin, leaning his head back into the soft headrest. "Besides, we paid a fortune for this private box. I might as well be comfortable while I sit here."

"I suppose you have a point," Derrick chuckled, reaching over to pour two glasses of iced berry juice from the crystal decanter resting on the small side table. He handed one to Cherion. "Here. The play shouldn’t be too long today. It’s a popular three-act tragedy from the Eastern provinces."

Directly beside their box, separated only by a low partition and an arching curtain, sat Reiner and Ezek in their own adjoining booth. While Ezek maintained a vigilant, upright posture near the partition edge, his sharp eyes constantly scanning the lower tiers and the surrounding boxes, Reiner was relaxing with his own glass of juice, resting his arm over the cushioned ledge as he took in the opulent architecture of the theater.

As the heavy velvet curtains on the main stage pulled back and the live orchestra began to play a slow, swelling melody down in the pit, the theater darkened into a soft, ambient candlelight glow.

For the next two hours, the play unfolded smoothly. It was a classic romantic drama set in the ancient borderlands, filled with grand soliloquies, dramatic misunderstandings, overly dramatic battle sequences, and bright, sweeping costumes. Derrick acted as Cherion’s personal commentator throughout the entire performance, leaning over every few minutes to whisper explanations about subtle court references, pointing out famous theater actors, and quietly naming various high-ranking nobles sitting in the lower tiers.

"See that lord in the blue coat down on the second floor?" Derrick whispered, leaning close to Cherion and pointing subtly with the rim of his glass. "That’s the Marquis. He looks serious, but watch his eyes. He’s actually sleeping."

Cherion tilted his head, watching the old nobleman’s chin slowly dip lower and lower onto his chest. He smothered a quiet laugh behind his hand. "I don’t blame him. The lead actor has been monologuing about a wild rose for ten straight minutes."

"Oh, just wait," Derrick giggled quietly. "In the second act, his character monologues to a sword for fifteen minutes. My father fell asleep during that exact scene last year."

"I’ll keep a sharp eye out for the sword then," Cherion replied dryly, taking another sip of his juice. "Though I have to admit, the lead actress is actually quite impressive."

"She is," Derrick agreed, looking back toward the stage. "She trained in the capital’s royal academy. My mother tried to hire her troupe for a private garden party once, but they were booked out for six months."

When the final act concluded, the stage burst into bright candlelight as the cast gathered to take their bows to thunderous applause from the packed audience, including Cherion and Derrick. The heavy red curtains fell, signaling the end of the afternoon show.

Derrick stretched his arms high above his head, letting out a long, satisfied sigh that ended in a soft yawn. "Ah, that was wonderful. The ending was a bit tragic, but the execution was brilliant." He stood up from his armchair, smoothing down the front of his tailored jacket and adjusting his cuffs. "I’m going to step out to the washroom. Excuse me for a few minutes, Cherion."

Cherion swung his feet off the footrest, sliding his boots back on and stamping his heels to secure the fit. "Actually, hold on a second. I’ll come with you. I want to wash my hands and splash some water on my face before we head back outside." Cherion also do some scretching here and there.

Over in the adjoining box, Reiner immediately stood up as he saw Cherion moving toward the curtained exit. He patted Ezek’s shoulder lightly. "Stay here and keep an eye on the packages we bought earlier. I’ll walk with Lord Cherion."

Ezek nodded firmly, adjusting his sword belt slightly as he settled back into his chair. "Right. Don’t take too long. The crowd down on the main floor is already starting to move toward the doors."

"We’ll be quick," Reiner promised.

The three of them stepped out of the private box, moving down the quiet, carpeted corridor toward the noble retiring rooms situated at the far end of the balcony floor. The hallway was dimly lit by warm brass sconces mounted against silk-covered walls, decorated with large painted portraits of famous playwrights and heavy velvet drapery that muffled the rising noise from the main hall.

Derrick chatted casually as they walked, still dissecting the play’s climax. "I still think the main character’s decision in the third act made no sense. Why would he trust his brother after he was betrayed in the first act?"

"Because it’s a tragedy, Derrick," Cherion replied with a soft, amused smile, his hands tucked loosely into his coat pockets. "If characters made logical decisions, the play would end in twenty minutes."

Reiner trailed a few paces behind them, his hands clasped neatly behind his back, keeping a calm, watchful eye on the quiet corridor.

None of them noticed the small, fluid shadow shift near the upper decorative archway high above the hallway.

High up in the rafters, tucked behind the carved wooden moldings where the maintenance staff adjusted the hanging chandeliers, a pair of sharp eyes remained fixed entirely on Cherion’s back.

The observer didn’t make a single sound, blending seamlessly into the dark, heavy shadows above as the trio turned the corner and pushed through the heavy double doors into the private washroom suite.