The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'
Chapter 293 - Truthful Opinions, Unauthorized Additions, & The Benefit Of Moral Contemplation

Chapter 293: Chapter 293 - Truthful Opinions, Unauthorized Additions, & The Benefit Of Moral Contemplation

The woman who had survived three Descents on the frontlines still stood at the edge of the viewing area, the mere charisma of her title making the gathered crowd pay attention to her words.

"Last cycle, I personally pushed through a Voidling line to target one of their leaders. Even knowing the defenders behind me could fall without my sword arm to protect them."

Her somber gaze swept across the stage, then the audience at large.

"Ten cultivators died that day. Hundreds of mortals too. There is no way to be sure if it was due to my timing, but I do know that removing the only enemy who could enact a secondary invasion point prevented thousands more Voidlings from manifesting in the region."

Qatrand listened with growing respect for her potential mentor, in no small part for how her words exonerated the ’Villainess’. Yet she felt a subtle discomfort. The strategic reasoning was sound, but something about this answer felt incomplete to her.

"I remember the faces of those who fell. Those that had fought beside me. I remember because it mattered. Because ignoring them or forgetting them excuses too much. But I would still do it again."

The blonde glanced down at Elua, who watched Corde’s speech with a blank expression. The reincarnator couldn’t help but twist those words into a comparison of her own choices.

’My last order before leaving was to commission a monument. I left funds with the coastal city’s council to carve the names of every defender who fell into stone at the sacred site.’

The lead narrator stepped forward, his black garb shifting as he bowed respectfully. After acknowledging Corde’s contribution he announced the short break they required for a bit of costume change.

Many of the crowd were lost in their own thoughts over the few minutes. Conversations among each other were whispered more than not. A largely common thread was how the content of this play was a bit depressing to have been prepared by the often cheerful ’medical fairy’.

Although rather than criticism, it instead ignited curiosity in the choice. Most knew she was wedded to the current Yecine heir, the same one that had achieved very good results in the events so far. The brightest portion of those people figured that portraying a war tale was meant as some sort of message to her spouse.

That ’husband’ herself expected it was a little more complicated than that. Even if the heiress would admit quickly that it was the primary purpose. Qat leaned down before the lighting returned and placed a kiss on her mint-drop’s forehead.

⟠ ⟠ ⟠

"In the wake of a victory due to such sacrifice, the Villainess disappeared from the region. She left others to rebuild, not bothering to take part in such public works. But among those who remained, one voice rose up to lead the survivors through their grief."

The stage had transformed once more during the intermission. The backdrop now showed a painting of a city crowded with people. The Clairvoyant stood at the center with her outfit changed. Even more elaborate and dignified, it expressed that her stature in the community had risen.

This Sere stepped into the light as narrator, her tone now resonating with compassion instead of accusation. The actors representing cultivators bowed their heads to her words.

"I gathered the bereaved and the wounded in the wake of the war. I shared with them my vision of what might have been - how their loved ones need not have died if only another path had been taken. I vowed to them that never again would unnecessary sacrifice be demanded of our people."

A montage of movement and vignettes showed the woman providing aid to the injured, comforting crying widows, and speaking with passionate conviction to assembled leaders. With each scene, her influence visibly grew along with the brightness of the stage lighting.

"When a monument was discovered being built to commemorate the ’victory’ at Sachre. I wasted no time in revealing its true nature. The celebration of strategic callousness, the honor for the very commander who had abandoned her troops."

Sere lead what was meant to be families of the fallen to a half-constructed statue. With righteous anger on display, they dismantled it stone by stone - carrying away the blocks and chucking the black and green material off stage as if purging corruption from their midst.

’I didn’t understand back then that I needed to stay and oversee it personally if I wanted it to survive. That someone like Serenthya would ensure a simple gesture of a surface carved with names would never materialize to challenge her narrative.’

The play was full of falsehoods that Elua had not bothered to touch. She’d never had the goal of rehabilitating a well known historical figure in her mind in the first place. Such a plan may have once been considered, but her beloved had been too accepting.

She honestly felt as though she did not care if others misunderstood the person she used to be. As long as Qat would wait and hear her side out each time, the rest was just ’noise’.

The historical narrator continued his description of the event after the entire statue was cleared.

"The families themselves removed all trace of this insult to their people. They carried away the stones that would have glorified their loved ones’ abandonment. No trace of the commander was to be left behind to see."

The heiress couldn’t help but snort softly, rapidly building a private space to speak her mind to the one who just would not stop touching her!

"More like they carried away the pieces of a monument already carved with the names of who they cared for before Serenthya destroyed it."

"You really made them carve names of the fallen into a statue of you?"

Tiny fingers pinched the top of the hand that stroked her cheek. She knew that the Yecine was intentionally expressing the misunderstanding to rile her. But it was unfair to do so while *also* doting on her...

"There was no statue *of* me, just a half-hearted gesture *from* me. I was too young to realize that history makes no effort to remember the names that I do not."

"I see. So your accuser stepped into the hole you left behind to become their hero."

"Well, more or less."

As new scenes played out, showing ’Sere’ rising through the ranks of leadership and earning trust and authority of the populace, the narrator gave the historical summary.

"Under the Clairvoyant’s guidance, the region healed and strengthened. Her voice became the voice of those who had been forgotten. Her vision was a promise of protection for all."

The gray clad troupe master moved up next to serve up food for thought.

"And who remained to challenge her account of things? Who could say what other paths might truly have existed? The Voidling countermeasures prevented risking further divination in the coming cycles. The Villainess was missing in those. Her cold choice was quickly forgotten by all but those who lived to witness it."

A final mural replaced the cityscape, showing a landscape of cities and communities that had supposedly thrived under the Clairvoyant’s leadership. Prosperity bloomed in the century that followed.

Subtly in the background, dark clad figures gathered at the edges... and stagehands carefully began to dim the edges of lanterns to make it seem like light was fading toward the glowing stone that represented the place once protected. The historian intoned the result of things solemnly.

"Many years later, a Descent came in which the Voidling horde claimed the sacred site. A place once so carefully preserved fell. The confluence of rich essence was used to establish a foothold in our world. The coastal region and its million souls were lost within the month."

The sound of mirrors jangling together echoed through the venue when the actress representing ’Sere’ hugged herself tightly as everything closed in on her. Her voice faltered before finding renewed strength.

"This could not have been foreseen. My people did not deserve this fate. Yet, as the Mirrored Clairvoyant, I had done all that could be done with the knowledge available."

The three main speakers returned to stand together as the scene faded into utter darkness. The play was supposed to end there, but the troupe master had made other arrangements. Lines that were *prepared* but discarded were altered and handed to the ’historian’ during the intermission due to Corde’s speech.

"Though she would go on to commit countless other acts of infamy that we all know so well, during this one defense of Sachret Pass... her swift decision potentially saved more than it destroyed."

After the dark clad figure ended his *unrequested* addition, the gray clothed one who incited it immediately began with a follow-up.

"As the cycle falls again, do remember: victory may require hard decisions. History may judge harshly even necessary evils."

The performance ended with a solemn bow from the entire troupe. The silence that followed was profound. No cheers or claps were given, but it was not the awkward quiet of an unappreciated performance. Just the heavy stillness of contemplation.

’A whole mass of people feeding their own spiritual growth at once. Some more strongly than others. I guess these artists have a pretty valuable role in this era after all...’