II

They spent a few more moments together, silently gazing at the flowerbeds. “I think I’m going to take my leave. It’s been a pleasure speaking with you, Ms. Underland.”

He confirmed what he wanted. She spoke Alvar fluently and claimed to have come from a commoner family, so she was indeed one of those who likely had no prior biases.

“Likewise, Mr. Vigil,” she said as she turned around towards him. “Oh right,” she remembered as he began walking away, to the final part of the plant exhibit. “I forgot to tell you my hobbies as well. My pastime activities are cooking, theatre, landscaping and…yeah, that’s about it. See ya!” she blurted out to him as she turned around as well.

“You’re into theatre?” he mused as he turned on his heels to face her. “Actor or spectator?”

Nanami turned around surprised. “Oh, I just watch them from a distance…wait, are you a theatregoer as well? That’s amazing to hear!” She exclaimed joyously.

A faint smile crept onto his lips as he faced her: “You could say so, I guess. At least, it’s one of the main things I tend to do in Hearthbury. So? What theatres do you enjoy going to?” he asked, the smile creeping up ever so slightly in anticipation.

“Uhm, well I mostly went to the Vineyards Theatre by the Old Royal Park. But I’ve also attended shows at the Great Pond Theatre, at the Old Royal Park’s northern edge and the Adoration Theatre, which I’m sure you’re familiar with.”

“Ah, yes, the Adoration Theatre! I’ve been there many times. The professionalism of their staff is truly beyond anything else in the industry.” At this point, Augustin was beaming as he saw Nanami nod in accordance.

From the distance, Vincent was watching them and smiling as well, albeit for other reasons. At first, he was only staying by to see how things would turn out, but - seemingly satisfied - decided to step back and enjoy some Penshire cuisine instead, sure that whatever was happening would turn out well.

Then, Augustin opened a can of worms he never should’ve dared to.

“Speaking of which, what troupes’ shows do you watch the most?” Augustin inquired innocently.

“Oh, I mostly see what the Hayworth Troupe cooks up. They’re truly one of the greatest in the industry, don’t you think?” she chimed.

Augustin’s expression then cracked. Although he was still smiling on the outside, it was now emanating coldness.

“The Hayworths? For God’s sake, you can’t be serious, can you?!”

Nanami looks at him puzzled, but quickly gets the idea of what’s going on. An expression of surprise and disgust takes over her face as she utters: “You’re one of that deplorable Moonyard Trouple’s lackeys, is that so?!”

“Just what are you saying, calling them deplorable!” Augustin broke face and yelled at her.

To explain, the Hearthbury theatrical scene is dominated by two vastly different feuding troupes. The Heyworth Troupe is the older of the two and focuses on the production of epic tales of a single hero fighting against all odds with high-budget production and accompaniment with poetry and a bowed string instrument. A complete opposite is the Moonyard Troupe, with abstract plays portraying the so-called ‘small man’ in his struggles against nature, society, war, corruption, monsters and so on. The relation between the two has been fickle since Heyworth’s late inception. Although fans of each naturally wouldn’t come to blows, when it comes to rather passionate theatregoers, it might turn out to be a different story…

“That’s what they are, deplorable!” Nanami screamed back. “Those Moonyarders can only portray sluggish and boring stories, with a repetitive narrative that goes on and on and on that shoves a political agenda down your throat and pushes guilt upon anyone who doesn’t suffer from misfortune. They simply play on people’s heartstrings to get them to leave a positive word-of-mouth around taverns and public houses.”

“Hayworthers are no better, always replaying the same monotonous and unreasonable stories with the same ending and zero emotional weight below the surface level. It’s no wonder your actors don’t speak and leave everything to the poet, it’s because the stories are so shallow there’re no emotions to express, everything has to be sung to make it interesting.”

“The hell did you just say about Hayworth?! Hmph,” she turned around, arrogantly and with crossed arms.

“Exactly what the truth is!” he did likewise. It seemed that both of them noticed that a group of onlookers had surrounded them, curious about the conflict. Both of them started cooling down a little, wishing not to embarrass themselves on their first day.

But unfortunately, it wouldn’t end that easily. After a few seconds of peace, a surge of pent-up emotions broke out from both of them.

“Did you see Moonyard’s interpretation of The Red Oak Tree? You cannot tell me that the production staff was serious with it. The music itself was appalling and you can’t disagree here!”

“The music fit the atmosphere perfectly, you know?! As opposed to the Hayworth’s music team that tends to recycle similar soundtracks on repeat. Who needs originality when you can appeal to the masses, huh?” Augustin replied sarcastically.

“I’ll take good music I’ve heard of before over some modern garbage made up on the spot because the artists aren’t capable of creating a quality track. And the audience seems to agree with me, isn’t it so? You can see that the Vineyard is always full, while the East Edge Theatre tends to have quite a few problems regarding money, don’t you agree?”

“At least Moonyard doesn’t cater entirely to some low-tier audience of attention span-less people seeking instant gratification from the theatre. They have attendees who aren’t there to simply see some low quality remake of an old hero’s tale.”

“And what’s wrong about this ‘old hero’s tale’, huh?! I’m not going to the theatre to feel bad for some farmers living in some hole behind God’s back, I’m there for entertainment. Besides, Moonyard blows social issues way out of proportion!”

“Better to recognise them than to ignore them like Hayworth does!” he seethed at her.

“Don’t bring politics into entertainment,” she howled back at him.

At that point, any sense of decorum traditionally practised amongst the higher classes was gone. Both of them were screaming to prove their point about theatrics whilst making quite a show for onlookers - which had increased in numbers - themselves.

“While we’re at it,” Nanami continued. “I have to confess. I despise tea. It’s bitter, watery and takes way too many steps to recreate if you don’t have a maid. I’m only looking for chrysanthemum tea because it reminds me of my homeland. If I drink anything, it’s coffee.”

“You wouldn’t!” he yelled at her back. “You’re disgracing our national beverage, the King’s and Cardinal’s favourite, you know? You’re an affront to God himself!”

“I don’t care! I’m not Alvarian either way, I’m only here as a boarding student regardless. The only gods I worship are the ones from my homeland regardless. If not for the good Lord Utterend, I’d not be here in the first place, you know?!...at least you have nice mountains, they make for a good summer retreat,” she rather randomly changed the topic.

“Who cares about the mountains when you have the chalk-white beaches that even those frog-eating Targovians in the south are jealous of?! You’d much rather sleep amongst the sheeps and ewes in barns in the mountains rather than enjoying the invigorating ocean water, is that right?!”

“And what if it is?! Sheeps are rather fine companions.”

The air around them grew tense. Although neither was the type to lash out at others, it seemed that the point of common sense was long gone for both. “I’m out of here,” Nanami said, leaving the verbal duel amongst them undecided as she briskly walked out. The crowd was left murmuring as to what the Duke of Luminium’s heir was doing in a screaming contest with some commoner girl in front of the flowers exhibit, with some older students expressing concern for her should he pursue some sort of backroom action against her with the school management - the Vigils were a powerful family, after all.

In the end, she simply departed for the dorms, whereas Augustin departed to see Vincent. When he saw him red-faced, he immediately began beaming and asked him, full of smiles: “So, how did it go?”

“I’m going to my room. Pick me up at dinner time, please,” Augustin grumpily told Vincent without looking at him as he speedwalked to the male dormitory, still fuming. “Oh, my…” Vincent sighed to himself. “I guess it didn’t turn out that well.”

He apologised to his closer classmates and went after him, a bit disappointed that what he thought would be a blossoming relationship turned into a childish conflict.