A few days later, a convoy of travel-worn carriages entered Newborn Town from the direction of Minas Tirith.
Leading them was Tristan, the newly appointed Miport Mayor.
He lifted the carriage curtain, and the sights of Newborn Town reflected in his gray-blue eyes.
It was unlike Minas Tirith, that enormous construction site with its noisy, chaotic atmosphere brimming with raw vitality.
Newborn Town was already a small, orderly town where prosperity showed at every turn.
People came and went along the smooth white-stone streets, their faces free of the numbness and misery so common among the Royal Capital's lower classes.
The scent of baking bread and the sweetness of fermenting ale drifted through the air.
Tristan's gaze settled on the noticeboard in the town's central square.
Quite a crowd had gathered there, and a clerk was reading something aloud.
"...To celebrate the Gray Marsh Fief's first bountiful harvest and welcome the new year, the Lord's Manor has decided to hold a three-day New Year Celebration!"
"There will be grand theatrical performances during the celebration! In the name of the Lord's Manor, we are now recruiting performers at generous wages! Literacy is not required, and your background does not matter. As long as you have a good voice and dare to perform before a crowd, you have a chance of being selected!"
Tristan lowered the carriage curtain and fell into thought.
He had traveled from Miport to Newborn Town this time to deliver a group of actors.
The undertaking seemed intended merely to celebrate the harvest, but Tristan's instincts told him there was far more to it.
He had documented and reported the Church's recent infiltration and Pastor Fabian's "miracles" at Miport's construction sites to the Lord's Manor.
Lord Veylin's decision surely had something to do with that.
*Use theater to