This seems to be a story about heroes and knights.
But it's not a story of heroes and knights.
In the memory of No. 32, there has never been any drama that has set the tone with such a picture-it has a kind of real and suffocating depression, but it also reveals a kind of indescribable The power, as if the smell of steel and flames is constantly escaping from the depths of the picture, surrounding the young knight in military uniform.
It's not gorgeous, it's not refined, and it doesn't have religious or royal symbols—nobles accustomed to traditional theatrics won't like it, especially the bloodstains on the faces of young knights and the criss-crossing of scars on their armor. Things are real, but the reality is too "ugly".
The old nobles preferred to see knights wearing gorgeous and ostentatious golden armor, eradicating evil under the protection of the gods, or watching princesses and knights wandering between castles and manors, singing some gorgeous and empty chapters , even if there is a battlefield, it is also the "paint" used to decorate love.
Those painted canaries can't stand the iron and fire.
However, ordinary people who have never been in contact with "high society" can't think of this. They don't know what the aristocratic gentlemen were doing every day. There was much discussion around the large, exquisite portrait.
No. 32 also stood under the outer wall of the auditorium for a long time, looking up at the huge painting that is more than three meters high—its original version may have been made by a certain painter, but the one hanging here should be A replica made by a machine—for as long as half a minute, this tall and silent man just watched quietly, without saying a word, his face covered with bandages was like a stone.
Until the partner's voice came from the side: "Hi—No. 32, what's the matter with you?"
The tall man just woke up like a dream. He blinked, looked away from the promotional poster of the Phantom Drama, and looked around in confusion, as if he didn't know whether he was in reality or in a dream for a while, and he didn't know whether he was in reality or in a dream. Why is it here, but he quickly realized, and said in a muffled voice: "It's okay."
"You always talk so little," the dark-skinned man shook his head, "You must be dumbfounded—to be honest, I was dumbfounded at first glance too, what a beautiful painting! I couldn't see this in the countryside before. plant something..."
While speaking, the surrounding crowd was already surging. It seemed that it was finally time for the opening of the auditorium. On the 32nd, I heard a whistle coming from the direction of the gate not far away—it must be the captain of the construction team hanging around his neck every day. The brass whistle, its shrill sound, is familiar to everyone here.
The partner pushed him again: "Hurry up and catch up, if you miss it, you won't have a good seat! I heard from the mechanic who delivered the supplies last time that the phantom drama is a rare thing, even in the south Few cities can see it!"
Ah, rarities—there are so many rarities in this day and age.
No. 32 did not speak. He had already been pushed by his partner into the crowd, and followed the crowd into the auditorium. Many people crowded in. This place, which is usually used for morning meetings and classes, quickly filled up There were many people, and there was already a set of large magic devices on the wooden platform at the front of the lobby than usual.
It looks like a magic net terminal, but it is much larger and more complicated than the magic net terminal used for communication in the camp. On the large triangular base, there are several projection crystals of different sizes forming a crystal array. The array A faint light surged in the sky, and it was obviously ready for debugging.
No. 32 sat down and sat under the wooden table with others. His partner chatted excitedly beside him, and expressed his opinion before the start of the phantom show: they finally occupied a slightly forward position. It made him appear to be in a good mood, and he was not the only one who was excited, and the whole auditorium seemed noisy because of this.
Then, the mechanical bell set up in the auditorium rang quickly and sharply, and the complex and huge magical machine on the wooden platform began to operate. Accompanied by a magic projection large enough to cover the entire platform and a burst of deep and solemn music, this The noisy place finally gradually quieted down.
here we go.
People who were busy expressing various opinions and making various guesses before were quickly attracted by the things that appeared in front of them—
At first, when the projection and the sound first appeared, some people thought it was just some kind of special Magic Network broadcast, but when a story that seemed to happen in real suddenly came into view, everyone's mood was firmly fixed by what was in the projection. sucked.
It was a heart-pounding story about a disaster, a man-made disaster, a brave knight, a group of victims who fell like grass, a group of brave fighters, and a noble and tragic sacrifice—in the auditorium Everyone held their breath and focused, and everyone restrained their voices, but slowly, very soft voices came from every corner.
This is not the kind of traditional drama that the nobles watch. It strips away the exaggerated obscurity of traditional drama, the long and short poems and useless heroic confessions that require more than ten years of grammar accumulation to understand, it only has The frank narration of the story makes everything as easy to understand as the narration of the person who experienced it personally, and this straightforwardness and simplicity made the people in the hall quickly understand the content of the play and quickly realized that this is exactly what the story is about. The catastrophe they lived through—a catastrophe recorded from another perspective.
"Ah, that windmill!" The partner sitting next to him suddenly couldn't help but yelled in a low voice. The man who was born and bred in the Holy Spirit Plain looked straight at the projection on the stage and repeated over and over again, "Cabre The windmill of ... that is the windmill of Cabret ... my nephew's family lives there ... "
Someone else whispered nearby: "That's Solingburg, right? I know the city wall over there..."
"This... this is someone recording everything that happened at that time? God, how did they do it..."
"Certainly not, didn't I say it, it's a drama—the drama is fake, I know, those are the actors and the sets..."
"But they look so real, they look like the real thing!"
"Yeah, it looks so real..."
In front of everyone, many familiar things appeared, and then those familiar things disappeared one by one. Soon, the people in the hall became quiet again, and even quieter than before.
Number Thirty-two sat among these quiet people like a silent sculpture, watching the irreversible disaster develop step by step in the magic image, watching the last knight on the fallen land step on him The final journey.
He watched all this quietly.
Time passed unconsciously, and this incredible "drama" finally came to an end.
However, no one moved, and No. 32 sat in the same place silently like everyone else.
It wasn't until the words "End of Story" appeared on the projection, until the list of producers and a low and melodious ending song appeared at the same time, that the dark-skinned partner sitting next to him suddenly took a deep breath, as if he was calming down, and then Then he noticed No. 32 who was still staring at the projection screen. He squeezed out a smile and pushed the opponent's arm: "No. 32, you still want to watch it—it's all over."
"Ah... yes... it's over..."
"Seeing that you don't usually talk, I didn't expect to be attracted by this thing," the dark-skinned partner said with a smile, but the corners of his eyes drooped while smiling, "Indeed, it is indeed attractive... This is the old nobles Did you watch a 'drama'...it's really not ordinary, not ordinary..."
"That's not the kind of drama that nobles watch." No. 32 said in a muffled voice.
"As if you've seen it," the partner shook his head, then muttered thoughtfully, "It's all gone..."
No. 32 did not speak. He looked at the stage. The projection there had not been turned off because of the end of the "drama". The subtitles were still scrolling upwards. Now it was at the end. The huge words suddenly appeared, attracting the attention of many people again.
"I dedicate this play to every victim of war, to every brave soldier and commander, to those who lost loved ones, and to those who survived.
"To this land we love so much, to those who restored it.
"To—Belke Rolland."
The magical projection above the wooden table finally gradually dissipated, and a moment later, a bell sounded from the direction of the hall exit.
One by one the people got up and left, but one person stayed where he was, sitting there as quietly as if he hadn't heard the bell.
"Number thirty-two?" The dark-skinned man pushed his partner's arm and whispered with a hint of concern, "Number thirty-two! It's time to go, the bell is ringing."
However, the tall man with bandages covering the scars of crystal clusters all over his body just sat there motionless, as if his soul had gone out of his body, without speaking for a long time, he seemed to be still immersed in the story that had ended, until his partner pushed It took him several times before he woke up with a "ah" like a dream.
"You won't be stunned, will you?" The partner looked over suspiciously, "This is not like your usual appearance."
"I..." No. 32 opened his mouth, but didn't say anything.
The partner looked back at the projection device that had been turned off. The dark-skinned man pursed his lips and muttered in a low voice two seconds later: "But I'm not much better than you...the things in it are the same as the real ones." Like... No. 32, do you think that story is true?"
Thirty-two finally stood up slowly, and said in a low voice: "We are rebuilding this place, at least it's true."
The partner glanced at him in surprise, as if he didn't expect the other party to show such positive thoughts, then the dark-skinned man grinned and laughed: "That's right, this is the place where our ancestors lived for generations."
"I gave myself a name." Thirty-two said suddenly.
"Ah?" The partner felt that he couldn't keep up with No. 32's train of thought, but soon he realized, "Ah, that's great! You're finally planning to give yourself a name—although I call you No. 32 I'm quite used to it... By the way, what name did you give yourself?"
No. 32 was silent for a few seconds, and spit out a few words: "Just call it Sam."
The partner was stunned for a moment, and then he couldn't laugh or cry: "You thought of such a name after thinking about it for a long time-fortunately, you are still literate. Do you know how many Sams there are in this camp alone?"
"I think it's a good name."
"But the soil is terrible. There is a saying that the lord's grain piles are lined up, and forty Sams are busy in it--the farmer is called Sam, the digger is called Sam, and the horse feeder and woodcutter are called Sam." Sam, whoever works on the ground is Sam!"
Number thirty-two suddenly smiled.
The face, covered with bandages, scars, and druses, looked a bit eerie in this smile, but the bright eyes shone with brilliance.
He said with a happy tone: "So, this name is quite good."
"Then you can do whatever you want," the partner shrugged resignedly. "Anyway, we have to go—we're almost gone."
Beside the exit of the hall, a man in uniform was standing there, urging the last few people in the hall who did not leave with his eyes.
No. 32 nodded. He followed behind his partner, puffed up his chest like a soldier who had just recovered, and walked towards the exit of the hall.
At the exit, there is also a large "poster" of "beacon fire", and the young knight with a sword is standing on the ground heroically, his eyes are like a torch.
Although the "actor" in the Phantom Drama is similar to this young man, after all, the one on the "poster" is the one he remembers.
He walked past the poster, paused slightly, and said in a low voice that no one could hear:
"Goodbye, son."
Then, Sam left.