“For those at the height of monopoly… The dark… The desolate… The unforgiving—”  

“NEXT!!!!!!” shouted the director. He slammed his hands down upon the table, sending a stack of folded tissue scattering.  

The young man—a brass-colored Kobold with nothing but fur—failed to hold back the streaming tears. He had chosen a line from a play about the fall of a military leader after a witch introduced him to wine and debauchery. Even though the director wanted to see something ‘primal,’ this suit-wearing Kobold thought he had it in the bag.

He didn’t. The lines he had chosen from his favorite story just did not cut it.  

“Thank you, Sward, for your performance. Unfortunately, it isn’t what we’re looking for,” said Wyima. He stood up and offered a hand, and Sward shook it, even though he wanted to run out and cry. But it wasn’t all bad. The Kobold still received a respectful hand of applause from nearly everyone there since most knew how brutal auditioning could be. On more than once were they on the side of rejection, so his sadness resonated with them.  

Of course, only Servi and Momo didn’t share those feelings per se, and only the latter actually did any clapping.  

“Wow… I for sure thought Sward had it… He seemed so jolly when his name was called, and he just instantly altered his whole personality to fit his lines… That’s incredible…” Momo sure was amazed. Sward was the 20th person to have been called upon, and not a single person had the director's approval. “But wait… I thought Wyima was the casting director. Doesn’t he have a say in who is and isn’t in play? Or can the director overrule Wyima’s choices?” she asked herself.  

Even though I’m just sitting here watching, it’s kinda fun. Back home, I never would have gotten the chance to see something so cool!!! 

“Now, I need Myrabel Donnas to come to the stage,” said Wyima. He crossed off a name on his list and looked up, catching sight of a gorgeous Elf. Her amber-colored hair flowed right down to the middle of her back. She was tall, almost taller than Claire, but this Myrabel was an Earth Elf. Her beautiful earthen-colored skin deeply absorbed the bright lights shining down, illuminating the cute skirt she wore. It only came to the top of her thighs, but its radiant playfulness more than accentuated her sleeveless shirt. She was a noble, but she dressed more freely than others of her social status. Though she did have a tie around her neck, and from experience, Momo knew that those with neckties were fancy.  

There was just something about her that caught Momo’s eyes. It could have the aggressive smile blanketing her face, signifying that she thought she had this audition in the bag. Or it might have been the way she carried herself. Each little step used the least amount of energy. Then again, her heels sharply echoed against the granite stage whenever she took a step forward, and the piercing noise started to hurt Momo’s ears.  

They’re fluffy, but my ears are too sensitive… 

And a few minutes later, Momo was proven right. The director had told Myrabel to act as if her husband had caught her having an affair, which Momo thought was kinda odd and specific, but the Elf took that challenge to heart.  

“Darling! It… It seems you’ve finally found out the truth…” she started off, her head hanging low as a deep whisper spread across the auditorium. Myrabel's hands were to her neck, acting as if she was in bed and had the covers up to her chin. She waited a moment for her imaginary husband to say his line, then shot back. “No! It isn’t my fault! It’s yours! You’re always so busy with work, and I’m all alone with nothing but this empty, cold house to keep me company. I have desires!!! I have needs!!! You always shrugged me off whenever I opened my mouth! You always talked over me and demanded your dinner, as if I didn’t just spend thirteen hours with my own thoughts!! Oh, and don’t think I don’t know about that floozy… I’m not the only one who’s been looking for a little excitement Wha—"

Suddenly, it was like an invisible force pushed the Elf down, and her head sharply turned to the right. A frightful hand hugged her cheek. “Do you think hitting me will bring back the spark we once had? No… In these seven years... The love you had for me vanished. But mine… Mine never stopped burning. I YEARNED FOR YOU!!! I desired your touch! Your kiss! Oh, how I wanted to feel your lips upon my neck and your hand down my thighs! How I craved your rugged touch with your scared, calloused hands!  

“But no more… I have found someone who sees me as more than just a maid to cook for you… I’ve found someone who needs me for me… And you, my sad husband, have lost someone you had forgotten was a person… No, maybe I’m the unhappy one... But I do know that whatever we once had just isn’t there anymore…” Myrabel stood up, still grasping her fake injury as she shunned her eyes away from the imaginary state of her pathetic fake husband.  

“Woah… She’s even crying…” Momo whispered. “But she isn’t making any noise… It’s just the tears…” What transpired in front of her was clearly fake, but it just all felt so real. The valid surprise in her voice when the scene started, to the ‘accusatory’ tone she used when she announced that her ‘husband’ was also unfaithful, was unadulterated. Even playing that fake slap to the fullest required the actress to sync with their character.  

It almost made her wonder if Myrabel had actually been through what she acted out… 

It feels like that had to come from the heart. If it didn’t, then she’s really good… Like really, really good… 

 “Oooohhhhh!!!” cried the director. That was the only noise he made, but he stood up and clapped his hands so much they had started to get slightly bruised.  

“Hmph! That was easy,” cited Myrabel, who brushed her hair from her neck. She walked over to Wyima, who simply congratulated her. Apparently, she wanted something else, but Wyima wasn’t about to play those games. He just told her off and asked her to get back to her seat. Such abrasiveness probably wasn’t what she was used to since Myrabel had a nervous spring in her step when she went back to her chair.  

I guess even prim-looking Elves like her can get startled… But that was an awesome scene she played out… I hope the rest are just as good… 

The passing seconds turned to minutes, and minutes soon became hours as the day rolled along. After Myrabel’s breathtaking performance, forty-six wishing, hopeful performers had gotten the boot. The forty-seventh one, however, could have arguably been better than Myrabel.  

When Wyima asked for a Denaire Dattosh, Momo expected another Elf. To her surprise, it was a Kobold who answered the call. She was as thick as an ox and taller than a mountain grizzly. Momo even thought she could put Feral to shame with how big her muscles were. They were protected by mythril-colored skills, which enclosed her from head to toe. So on top of having a flowery name, she had a body most male Kobolds would have killed for.  

Yet her voice was not coarse and war-hungry, like so many of her kin. The requested song she sang for Wyima and Bartholomew flowed from her mouth like liquid honey. Its sweetness captivated those remaining in the auditorium, bringing to shame all of the stereotypes of the typical female Kobold. One could claim her voice suited the forest-loving Elf, but one could also disagree and counterclaim that what flowed from her mouth could have only come for her.

The mix of brawn and muscle clashed with the song about a girl waiting for her loved one to return from war… Its ending a bitter conclusion where only his letters arrived home was so effortless conveyed with the passion of a thousand stars.  When she sang the last note, dropping her folder arms from across her dress-covered chest, Momo felt like she had to pay for such a performance. Seeing something so touching for free felt wrong and abashed, and it was like she had stolen something priceless.  

Servi was feeling it too. Tears flowed down from her still face, drenching her blouse. During the especially intense parts of the song, she actively clenched Momo’s hand so hard it felt like it would break.  

It resonated within, huh? Servy, it seems we both enjoyed Denaire’s beautiful song... It seems like you’re going to have another companion in the play… 

Like before, after Bartholomew had given his utmost praise, Denaire shook hands with Wyima. He was surprised when both of his hands could fit within her palm, but he wonderfully thanked her for giving a breathtaking performance.  

When she went back to her seat, the happiness in her eyes was infectious, like a disease. Even those who wanted to be jealous had no choice but to give an additional congratulation and thanks for the honor of hearing her song. Momo wanted to speak up and offer her words, but she was sat on the other side. And there was no way she was gonna leave Servi behind to do so.  

She wiped her leaky eyes with the back of her hand and turned to Servi. “That was incredible… Here, let me wipe your eyes,” she said. As she did that, Wyima called out another name. This time, it belonged to a male Koena named Grid Grizzly. Dressed in a flashy suit with a red tie, he had double the amount of scales a Koena of his age was expected to have.  

It wasn’t so much a malady as it was an aesthetic jackpot. Someone born with this ‘affliction’ would have nearly twice as many scales as someone his own age, which meant the protection granted to his body was also doubled. And for some odd reason, having more scales than the rest was an attractive trait that female Koena found appealing. Since that was true, it probably explained why he took his sweet time getting to the stage.  

Wyima ordered him to do a comedy number of his choosing, and Grid turned to face the seats. After adjusting his tie, he cleared his throat and laid out the best jokes he knew. 

Unfortunately, not a single one was actually funny. But what was funny was how Grid guided his routine like a storyteller. The dry, quick wittiness of each joke that fell flat was funny in its own way, and they just kept running. Right when one was done, he’d quickly transitioned into the next, adding in a bit of physical humor to keep it fresh. By the end of his ten-minute routine, nearly the entire auditorium was rolling with laughter.  

Servi and a few others were the lone exceptions. Momo, though, absolutely couldn’t keep her adorable chuckles down. At one point, she leaned over a bit too far and almost fell right out of her chair. Luckily for her, Itarr clasped a thousand invisible anchor points and brought her back to her seat. Even in her fit of laughter, she didn’t forget to thank the Goddess.  

No doubt, Grid Grizzly was able to garner the director’s approval. He returned to his seat with a flashy grin.

And he was the last one.  

Out of the other hundred or so waiting, hopeful auditionees, there wasn’t anyone else who had what the two directors were looking for.  

Wyima took center stage and spoke to Servi, Momo, Myrabel Donnas, Denaire Dattosh, and Grid Grizzly, the only ones left in their chair. He asked then all to come to the front row, and they did so in a slight hurry. Denaire’s thick, heavy feet stomped, nearly causing Grid to stumble over himself. Myrabel looked so elegant as she simply strutted herself down to the front row of the middle section.  

“Let me thank you again for coming out to audition Wyima said. Bartholomew was off behind him, twirling in circles, his dancing slowly guiding him to the backstage beyond the curtains. “As you can probably tell, only the best is sufficient for the director. You can go home tonight with pride in your hearts that you have beat out over 200 other fierce participants to star in this rendition of The Lift of a Butterfly Will Cure Our Ailing Hearts. I say ‘this rendition,’ but this will be its debut. With that said, I, and the director, are honored that you would audition despite not knowing anything. I do think that now is the time to remedy that. 

“To start it off, The Lift of a Butterfly Will Cure Our Ailing Hearts is about a group of widows trying to find love after their husbands had passed away. The main character is named Shika. She’s an Elf, and as of now, she will be played by Ms. Donnas. 

“Excuse me, but what do you mean by ‘as of now?’” asked Myrabel. There was a bit of a rude tone hidden inside that innocent question, but it was somehow forced and artificial. Was she trying to be unpleasant on purpose? 

“It is just as I said. Remember the flyer? Auditions run every day until the first of August. On the second, everyone that passed the audition will be called back. We will formally release the cast list. That is when you all will receive the dates for rehearsals. And the script you will be given will have your lines underlined with red ink, so it will be easy to spot.  

“But allow me to get back to the plot of the play. Essentially, there are a couple of main characters and many side characters that flesh out the story. As I’ve stated, we have Shika. Then there is Roa, a Koena. Sylva, a Kobold. Dawn, a Dwarf. And then Finn, a Singi.” 

“Umm… In the flyer, it mentioned something about a bright light at the end of a dark tunnel… What does that mean?” asked Momo.  

“Good question. In reality, it can mean a whole multitude of things. In this play, however, it is referring to love. All of the main characters have lost their significant others. Either through war, sickness, or even separation, as the flames of love do not burn the same for each couple.” 

“It’s a love story?” 

“That is correct. An uplifting story of love is just what this city needs after suffering from its wounds. And might I add that Servi will be responsible for crying for all of the main female cast. That is something the director and I have agreed on. She will have a cloak I have enchanted with invisibility, and it will be her job to rush out onto the stage whenever crying is needed.

“Oh, and of course, this is a job. Everyone will receive a rather handsome payment for a job well done on the night of the 24th. The time between our first rehearsal and opening night is just above three weeks. When the schedules are handed out, you must let me know what days are unviable for you. If you have too many prior engagements, then you must forfeit your role. I do hope that is acceptable.” 

Wyima narrowed his experienced eyes and stared at each person until they nodded at him. Only then did he crack a small smile. “Now then… We have this auditorium for two more hours. I would like you all to take some time to get to know each other. If everyone’s schedule works out, then you will become very familiar with the people you see around you. The director and I aren’t so pompous as to expect everyone to be the best of friends, but we do expect a degree of professionalism. It is entirely possible to work with those you hate and still produce a terrific product.” 

Once that was said, he turned around and walked past the desk into the backstage, pushing the heavy curtain to the side with a flick of his wrist. Three stagehands rushed out and started to clean the desk off, then a fourth, a Kobold, emerged to carry it back behind the stage.  

Since Momo sat near the end with Servi to her right, she turned left and stared at Servi’s fellow actors and actresses. Denaire moved her tall, wide-body out of the chair and pointed to the stage. “Sitting in a circle is said to build camaraderie. It is what I had to do at the previous production I was a part of.” She started to walk around to the left side of the stage, her heavy footsteps sounding like she was slamming down a metal cabinet. No one was behind her.  

“Come on, Servy,” Momo said, half whispering. They followed, catching up to the Kobold in no time at all. The pair gave her the room she needed when climbing stairs and hurried up behind. By no means was Denaire tired. As a Kobold, she just naturally moved slower than others, but she had the stamina to outlast someone like Fisher, who was used to long-winded excursions.  

When she reached the middle of the stage, she plopped herself down and crossed her legs, her posture as perfect as ever. Momo and Servy sat down beside her, and the pair of them were facing those still in their seats.  

It was quiet for another minute or so before Denaire growled out a question. “I do not think I know your name, Singi.” Her speaking voice didn’t compare to her songful tone when singing.

“My name’s Momo. And this is Servy. Err, her name is Servi, but Servy is what I call her,” said the Singi. Her fingers were still interlocked with Servi’s.  

“Eh, no last name?” whined Myrabel. She carried the thick scent of haughtiness around her entire being as a hand brushed through her amber-colored hair. “Neither of you are nobles?” 

“Is that such a bad thing? Servy still impressed the director enough to get a part.” 

“Yes, about that… I don’t understand why the director would give a part to someone like her. If it’s crying, then anyone could do that,” said Myrabel, who remained in her seat. Momo groaned and already knew this Elf was going to be a pain in the ass.  

“Well, it doesn’t matter if anyone can do it. The point is that Servy did it well enough to gain the director’s attention. And I’m assuming you two are unaware of who he is?” Grid spoke up the moment he saw the annoyance on Myrabel’s face. Perhaps the Koena wanted to avoid the chaos that came with infighting? 

“Servy and I don’t really spend too much time in the noble district. I’ve only come here twice, myself,” replied Momo. Her tail curled up in the shape of a question mark, then flattened itself out like a snake.  

“Here’s the low-down on him and his…’uniqueness.’ If you think his behavior was odd, then you haven’t seen anything. To be frank, I’ve never seen him act like what you and I would consider ‘normal.’ I was almost hoping he would remember me because I auditioned for the last play he directed, but I suppose I’m just not that famous yet. Or memorable, I should say.” Grid shrugged his shoulders and stood up. He slapped a hand down on the stage and hopped up it, turning his momentum into a nice roll. He had planned it out so that he came to a stop a mere meter away from Denaire and sat down right beside her.  

Of course, he was facing the opposite way, but he fixed that with a bit of a flair when he turned around. Momo thought it was funny, and he gave a reassuring bow along with his thanks.