Chapter Three: Guidance

After dinner, the troupe was about to begin their performance.

The young women burst into the backstage area, chattering and bustling about as they prepared their makeup, sounding for all the world like a flock of larks.

Every member of the Violet Troupe possessed a remarkable voice, their greatest strength lying in their ability to deliver breathtaking arias that showcased their wide vocal ranges. Dressed in resplendent court attire, they moved gracefully across the stage, giving free rein to their melodious singing.

Tonight’s performance was “Tiranya,” a traditional piece from the Lance Empire. It told the story of Edith Strik, the Rose Warrior of three centuries past—founder of the Empire—and his beloved wife, Tiranya. The tale, steeped in sentiment, painted a vivid portrait of a hero who fought for justice and ultimately forged a glorious nation.

A typical opera extolling the virtues of the imperial founders.

Des, the troupe’s leading lady, played Tiranya, while Bart, their leading man, portrayed Edith Strik. It must be said, the Violet Troupe’s performance was exceptional. Des, resplendent in her court gown, commanded the stage with her presence, while the dashing Bart, clad in a warrior’s armor, appeared every inch the heroic figure.

Des’s voice was enchanting, like a nightingale in song. Lanty played Tiranya’s maid—a cunning woman intent on sowing discord between Edith Strik and Tiranya, plotting to supplant her mistress.

Hugh doubted whether history ever truly had such a maid. Seducing a lord might not be difficult, but to make him forsake his most beloved woman—that wasn’t cleverness, but sheer folly.

“How do you like my girls?” Clarice stood beside Hugh, arms folded, her tone brimming with pride as she awaited lavish praise.

Hugh pondered a moment, then replied, “Director Clarice, I must admit you have an outstanding group of young women. Not only are they beautiful, but they sing wonderfully and have a solid foundation in performance. It’s as if I’m watching a troupe of angels singing and dancing on stage. I’ve heard you trained them all yourself?”

“That’s right, I trained every one of them,” Clarice replied, brimming with satisfaction.

“I also heard you’re a master of song, dance, and composition, and that because of you, the Violet Troupe is known as the ‘Cradle of Songstresses’ among your peers?”

“Exactly,” Clarice answered with pride.

“But in my opinion, that might be the greatest insult to you,” Hugh said coolly.

“What did you say?” Clarice was momentarily stunned.

“You know what I mean, don’t you? You train them, but you can’t keep them,” Hugh replied.

The Violet Troupe, though a small company, was well-known in its field. Clarice herself was a highly talented songstress, and those she trained were always in great demand at other troupes.

Yet, because Violet’s own finances were never strong, many of her girls, once skilled, would leave for other troupes in search of better prospects.

Thus, every year, Violet lost a host of talented girls.

“Cradle of Songstresses” meant not only that Violet produced excellent singers, but also that they lacked the means to retain them.

Clarice glared at Hugh in anger. “I’ve never interfered with my girls’ decisions. They have the right to leave or stay. I’m not like those greedy, shameless nobles who force their girls to toil for them. My girls have the right to pursue their own happiness.”

She noticed the mocking smile in Hugh’s eyes as she spoke of not forcing anyone to stay, and so she retorted coldly, “But as for some little fraud of mysterious origin—him, I’d choose to keep around and teach a lesson or two about life.”

“You have a point, Director Clarice. Still, I think you wish your girls would stay. Then you wouldn’t have to take on batch after batch of new ones each year, training them all over again. But unfortunately, Violet can’t afford to keep stars, can it?”

Clarice’s voice dimmed. “Business isn’t good. Our reputation only circulates among our peers.”

“So, Director Clarice, as a dance and music instructor, you’re exceptional. But as a director, you’re not qualified. The ‘Cradle of Songstresses’ proves your artistic skill, but it also casts doubt on your ability to run a troupe. You’re a true artist, but not a true businesswoman. You might be the best at teaching girls, but as a manager, you’re the worst. You’re not suited to lead a troupe. You’d be better off as a singing and dance instructor at a city theater or company. That would make your life so much easier.”

Clarice’s earlier arrogance was completely vanquished by Hugh’s words. She shook her head. “You’re absolutely right. I’m not a competent director. I don’t know how to run things or keep talented girls. Des is incredibly promising—I trained her into an outstanding singer, but I can’t make her a star. And without a star, our business can’t thrive.”

“That takes packaging.”

“Packaging?” Clarice looked at Hugh in surprise.

“Yes. In fact, I think Violet lacks more than just a star. You’re missing many things. You lack the funds to reach bigger stages, you lack an effective management system, you lack the marketing skills to give Violet a name, and you lack good scripts—Tiranya has been performed for so many years, people are already bored. If you want Violet to grow, you need unique content.”

“Oh, that’s easy to say. Do you know how much a good playwright costs? And your so-called management system is for large companies. In a small troupe, personal bonds often matter more than cold regulations.”

“But they lack binding force,” Hugh replied with a smile, leaving Clarice speechless.

After a moment, she asked, “Well, I’d like to hear your thoughts on what Violet should do.”

Hugh replied, “Director Clarice, if you want to be an excellent troupe, performing only in the countryside is pointless. Cities have influence that villages can’t match in any era. Only if you make your name there can you prosper. So you shouldn’t keep wandering as you do now. Look at your audience—their number barely fills a single hand.”

“But no town’s audience will watch a show for many nights in a row. Opera’s appeal is limited, so we must keep moving.”

“But that also makes your fame vanish. No one knows what your troupe is truly like. People judge you by your show and cast, then decide. Of course, I’m not saying you should stay in one city forever, but you should shorten your route. First, get a map. Mark which cities are most valuable and worth your time, categorize them, skip the worthless ones, and focus on the valuable cities. Then work out a schedule so you hit the most important places in the shortest time, rather than marching in a straight line and wasting time in villages and on the road. You should arrive in set cities at set times, maximizing the number and quality of performances. Over time, people will know when the Violet Troupe is due, and every show will be a success.”

Clarice stared at Hugh, mouth agape, as if the mushrooms she’d eaten earlier were about to come back up.

At last, she blurted, “My goodness! Why didn’t I ever think of something so simple?”

Hugh smiled. “And to quickly build your name in cities and keep it, you need to rent the truly prestigious venues.”

“But those places are far too expensive,” Clarice found at last a flaw in Hugh’s grand plan.

But Hugh shook his head. “I don’t think so, Director Clarice. Not all problems require money to solve.”

“You don’t expect theaters to give you the stage for free, do you?”

“Of course not. But you can have someone else pay.”

“Who?”

“Other troupes.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No, they’ll agree—if you agree to train their girls for them. If you do, they’ll certainly say yes.”

“You mean I should go to other troupes and train their girls? That’s ridiculous! I would never do such a foolish thing. After they poached my most talented girls for high prices, now I should help them out? Never!”

This outburst betrayed Clarice’s true feelings about other troupes stealing her girls. Clearly, she wasn’t as magnanimous about the “Cradle of Songstresses” title as she’d first appeared.

But Hugh laughed. “No, it’s perfectly possible, and you should do it. It will benefit you as well.”

“I don’t see how it could.”

“First of all, Violet’s reputation is nowhere near yours personally, and your fame is specifically as a trainer of singers—that’s your edge, and you should use it. Second, if you help other troupes train their girls, they won’t need to poach your favorites anymore. Right now, they pay high prices for your best students, but you get none of the benefit. If you help them, they get a whole batch of well-trained singers for the same price as one or two before. It’s a good deal for both sides. Plus, your generosity will win you friends among the other troupes. I hear this line of work can be harsh and competitive—the more friends you make, the fewer enemies, and that will help you in the years ahead.”

Hugh’s reasoning convinced Clarice. The idea that other troupes would stop poaching her girls was an obvious gain, as was the fee for training, but the prospect of building strong alliances was just as important. In any profession, those who win support thrive, while the isolated struggle.

Emotionally, Clarice still had little fondness for the other troupes, so she muttered under her breath, “Maybe I’ll keep a few tricks to myself.”

“No, you mustn’t do that. Director Clarice, by helping other troupes train their girls, you not only gain those benefits, but you also raise your own troupe’s profile. Think: when all the other troupes have learned from you and produced excellent singers, how famous will Violet become? Everyone will know the director of Violet is the teacher of all the Empire’s troupes—the very best. If their singers become so skilled after a short time under you, how outstanding must your own girls be, who’ve trained with you for years? At that time…”

Clarice stared at Hugh, speechless. She understood what this meant.

It meant she would never have to worry about money again.

Hugh continued to explain how the troupe should develop, what rules and systems to establish, and that letting the girls come and go as they pleased could no longer be so lax. Even if they weren’t treated as servants, there should be contracts.

The contracts could specify a period of service, with a penalty fee if they left early, and so on…

Clarice could hardly believe her ears. She was hearing things she’d never thought of before. The continent of Windsong wasn’t unfamiliar with contracts, but the level of detail Hugh described was unprecedented.

To her, it was as if she’d discovered a new continent—she couldn’t imagine how so much knowledge could fit in the head of a boy not yet sixteen.

If the earlier meal had impressed her with his skill, now she realized his mind was his greatest asset.

By the end, Clarice’s head was spinning with Hugh’s management ideas and strategies, and she felt so giddy she might faint from happiness.

She wasn’t a fool; she understood the changes Hugh’s suggestions could bring to the Violet Troupe.

“So, in the end, there’s just one problem left,” Hugh said. “That’s the script. The Violet Troupe needs new scripts—beautiful dialogue, moving stories, stirring music, and constant innovation. Well, I’ve studied a bit of playwriting, though I’m not much of a composer. But I can hum the tunes, and you can work out the rest.”

After he finished, Hugh noticed Clarice’s expression had become stiff. He asked, puzzled, “What’s wrong?”

Suddenly, Clarice threw her arms around him and shouted, “You’re amazing, Fink! I’ve decided to reduce your debt—by one Vitt!”

Hugh was speechless.

Windsong Continent clearly had no concept of intellectual property, but Clarice’s stinginess had nothing to do with that.

In fact, she immediately realized Hugh’s value. Although she didn’t fully grasp it, she was already thrilled enough.

That was why she reduced his debt by only a single gold Vitt—if she forgave it all, who knew if he’d run off? She’d decided that in ten months, if the troupe truly grew as he predicted, she’d reward him handsomely. But for now, secrecy was best.

She was still waiting to see the script he’d promised.

Though she doubted he could write anything worthwhile, given his earlier performance, she thought it wouldn’t hurt to let him try.

That night, Clarice was so excited with the script for “Turandot” that Hugh had given her, she ran around shouting, “We’re going to be rich! We’re going to Leaf City, to perform at the Lanaya Grand Theater, to become the best troupe in the whole Empire! I’ll have the world at my feet!”

Des shook her head in regret and told her companions, “She’s dreaming again.”

“Absolutely hopeless,” Lanty added, rubbing her temples.

---

The performance over, the troupe prepared to rest.

But Hugh felt no urge to sleep.

He sat by the campfire, listening to the crackling of the dry wood, watching the sparks fly, savoring the freedom he felt.

The wind element gathered around him, swirling the fallen twigs and leaves; the leaves danced, as if the wind itself were rejoicing.

Had any skilled magician seen this, they would have exclaimed at Hugh’s remarkable progress. For in his mastery of wind, he had reached the level of sensing the Aura of Wind—so that the element responded to his mood and altered with his feelings.

This mastery of the Aura of Wind was a matter of understanding, a state of mind.

Magic was unlike martial energy. A mage needed not only powerful mana, vast knowledge, and remarkable talent, but also a deep comprehension of the elements themselves. This was known as state. Without it, even with great mana, casting advanced spells was difficult; and even if forced, the effects would be poor and the costs high.

The Aura of Wind was a high state for wind mages. Elemental resonance defined range; elemental vibration, power; but elemental aura determined the speed and mana cost of casting.

Mana, unlike aura, required long accumulation and was the basis for magic, like martial energy for a warrior. Elemental resonance and vibration were gifts, but aura relied entirely on understanding.

Klos had once noticed Hugh Grayle’s extraordinary comprehension of magic, especially evident in his grasp of state—the one thing that could transcend mere levels.

Though Hugh’s mana marked him as a mere apprentice, in his understanding and use of wind, even many advanced mages could not match him.

Perhaps sensing his own deepening insight, Hugh casually cast a wind detection spell—Wind Songbird.

The wind elements swiftly converged, forming a faint, ethereal image.

Hugh was delighted to find his mana expenditure for the spell had dropped, and the spell formed much faster.

He gave a slight wave toward the carriages, and the Wind Songbird drifted toward the girls’ wagon.

The bird brought him the sound of their conversation:

“That Fink—I bet he used to serve some noble.”

“Why?”

“Only in a noble’s house would you learn such skill.”

“You’re right. He must be a servant who ran away. Only nobles would experiment with turning poisonous things into delicacies.”

“Well, only he can answer that.”

“Whatever he is, he’s a smart, charming, good-looking, and highly capable boy. Haven’t you noticed? He’s so polite—his manners put most adults to shame. When the director extorted him, he didn’t get angry, just worked harder, even gave her ideas and wrote a script.”

“Yes, he really is an outstanding boy.”

“And the important thing is, he’s a really handsome lad.”

“He’s so capable—maybe we should keep him around a bit longer.”

“I don’t think he’ll want to stay. Clarice is too stingy; I doubt he’d want to remain. I mean, if he really does sell his potions in Leaf City and makes some money.”

“Maybe we can get him to owe us more.”

“How?”

“Why not seduce him? Then we could blackmail him, threaten him, and make him stay.”

“Wow, that’s a great idea!”

“So who’ll do it?”

“I will…”

“I will…”

“Are we being a bit too eager for proper ladies…”

Hugh’s face twitched slightly. With a small flick of his right hand, the Wind Songbird dispersed.

“They’re rather adorable, aren’t they?” he asked the little dragon.

The creature looked at him with disdain.

Hugh sighed, “All right, I admit they went a bit too far this time. But I believe they’re all talk. They mean no real harm, Xu. Sometimes you have to learn to be forgiving. Everyone has flaws and makes mistakes. Clarice may be greedy, the girls a bit lustful and mischievous, but those aren’t real problems. If possible, we should try to be tolerant. Of course, for some mistakes, we must be firm.”

The little dragon whimpered and burrowed into his arms, clearly unwilling to discuss the subject further.

From above, two crisp calls rang out—the red and green birds, hearing Hugh’s murmur, cried in disagreement from the treetops.

“Oh, you have your own thoughts?” Hugh smiled at the birds.

Red and Green exchanged a glance, then soared into the sky.

They circled above his head, their flame-like tails tracing large letters in the air.

Avril.

Hugh’s smile froze.

A distant look entered his eyes, and softly, he said, “No, that’s absolutely impossible. I will never have any connection with her again.”

Ignoring the birds’ indignant circling, he closed his eyes. The wind element gathered silently around him.

Rather than let himself be tangled by intangible feelings, it was better to seize the time to train.

After advancing as a soul mage, there were few new things to learn. In fact, soul spells were remarkably rare. What interested Hugh was that as an apprentice soul mage, he now possessed four special spells—Mental Focus, Mental Probe, Willpower Fortify, and Willpower Weaken.

Mental Focus sharpened concentration; Mental Probe could sense living beings nearby, and unlike the Wind Songbird, was less detectable.

Willpower Fortify was the best defense against soul magic, while Willpower Weaken did the opposite.

These four spells seemed unimpressive, but Hugh thought otherwise.

To him, Mental Focus was a fine spell—intense concentration improved training and, combined with wind element gathering, made mana cultivation far more efficient. It could also bolster one’s resolve in battle. While such resolve might not mean much for a mage, for a warrior it was invaluable. Hugh’s greatest distinction was that he was both.

These spells might be trivial for others, but for Hugh, they were tailored treasures.

At least now, Mental Focus was useful—Hugh cast it on himself, entered a deep state of study, and banished thoughts of the girl he couldn’t forget.

Red and Green flew about in outrage, indignant at Hugh’s “cheating.”

Compared to the meager spells available to a soul mage, a wind mage’s early arsenal was vast and complex.

For support, Wind Spirit’s next step was Wind Soar, with side branches like Wind Sight, Wind Scent, and Wind Touch, all leading to Wind Empowerment—a self-enhancement path.

On defense, from Air Shield one could learn Wind Vortex or Ethereal Shield—the latter manifesting visibly, absorbing damage rather than merely lessening it.

Wind Vortex was a trap spell—potent but stationary—while the best offensive options were Wind Rend and Air Slice.

Though not dramatically different, Wind Rend was an area attack, unleashing dozens of wind blades, while Air Slice was a focused strike—high power and range, but targeting a single foe.

These represented the choice between area and single-target attack.

Back on Purgatory Isle, Hugh had chosen Wind Rend as his focus, not even touching Air Slice.

Wind spells were, by nature, geared toward area attacks. In the future, he would face legions of imperial soldiers; as for monsters like Lancelot—there was no sense in hoping to defeat them anytime soon, no matter how well he mastered Air Slice. Even if he could, breaking through their protective energy was another matter.

Besides, Air Slice could be replaced by his warrior’s thrust technique; though his progress as a warrior had stalled for lack of practice, his thrusting skills had improved greatly.

Wind Rend and Air Slice would later branch further: Wind Reversal and Wind Assault, emphasizing area or power.

After centuries of evolution, wind magic had become a vast, branching tree, as had water, fire, and earth.

Low-level spell mastery directly affected high-level use. For example, if Hugh tried to learn Wind Soar without mastering Wind Spirit, his results would be poor.

Just as in magic, foundation determined what could be built.

Thus, mages often spent several days just choosing their training path—once set, changing meant wasted years.

Fortunately for Hugh, he didn’t need to worry yet.

Though his levels were as low as could be, his combined abilities meant that, if used skillfully, he was confident he could defeat even a level three or four mage.

Having set his course, Hugh finally ended his training and prepared to sleep.

That night, for the first time since coming to this world, Hugh enjoyed a night of true freedom and relaxation.

He slept deeply and soundly, more at ease than ever before.

The only flaw was that, once asleep, Mental Focus could no longer fortify his mind—and he dreamed of Avril…