CHORUS: One soul will split into five,
while two will remain solemn.
Only three souls will survive
through the never-ending grief.
Those who do not follow
will perish under the rule.
Three shall fight for the
lost spirits of the Irsaal.
Once done and fulfilled,
peace will be restored.
Yet there shall be dangers
ever to come.
Three shall fight for the
lost spirits of the Irsaal.
The choice of the win
is up to the age-old
souls of the Irsaal.
Three shall fight,
Three shall win.
A man in a crisp white suit hurries across the stage, holding a leather briefcase in his left hand. He is seen muttering and suddenly points at a passing woman with her child.
MAN: Excuse me, ma'am, but did –
The lady glares at him, and, noticing his mistake, the man rushes off. He notices a friendly looking youth standing at the yellow pole near a train.
MAN: Did the – the train from Newcastle arrive yet?
YOUTH: Yes. It arrived three hours ago.
MAN: Oh, thank you. Looking nervous, he says goodbye to the youth and walks offstage.
The scene changes. Instead, it is a bright, windy fall day. The man looks around for a second before smiling. He nods to another man, who is wearing tweed fabric in a herringbone weave and a bowler hat. Yet another businessman appears, this time with a thin mustache and a Tattersall shirtbumps into him.
SECOND MAN: Sorry. A flash of recognition on his face. You're Barny Thompson, aren't you?
Barny nods.
SECOND MAN: I'm John Crow; your long-distance assistant from Ireland. I thought I'd be seeing you here, though I believe the Newcastle train left three hours ago, am I right?
BARNY: Yes, it did. I missed it. Anyway, it's nice to meet you, Mr. –
JOHN CROW: Call me John.
BARNY: John. Have you seen Iris Witherspoon?
JOHN CROW: She's right there. Oi!
A lady with brown curly hair turns around.
IRIS WITHERSPOON: John, there you are. I was looking for you. And this must be Mr. Thompson. She acknowledges Barny with a thin smile.
IRIS WITHERSPOON: I hope you know that I'm here to announce some news. It's fairly simple, but confusing all in all.
JOHN CROW: What is it?
IRIS WITHERSPOON: You're very eager, you know. She takes a deep breath, then looks at her mahogany watch quickly. There's a rumor that three souls – three humans, that is – are going to save the world from evil.
Barny chuckles.
BARNY: You must be joking. Three humans saving the world. Is this a dream, or are you mad?
IRIS WITHERSPOON: Glares. It's not a joke, Mr. Thompson. It's real, a true idea in the Earth. We need to find whose souls are going to do that.
BARNY: Muttering. Probably some bucktoothed squirrel.
IRIS WITHERSPOON: It's a human spirit, Mr. Thompson. Now stop acting so childish.
JOHN CROW: I say we should meet up in about an hour at the local coffee shop, and discuss the tactics of the idea. Find evidence and find out who, and gather people who may have an idea. Alright, I'll see you two soon!
Barny walks towards a large building with the words Cormorant-Guild Firm laid neatly in golden print. The scene changes to an inside of a building.
BARNY: Hello? He notices a woman sitting at a counter, checking something on her computer. Excuse me? Can I speak to Reese Nigel, the manager of this branch?
RECEPTIONIST: She's in her office.
BARNY: Thank you. He walks to a small office and knocks on the door. May I - ?
A lady with a tight bun and a stern face sighs and comes to the door. She sees BARNY and stops in the middle of her word.
REESE NIGEL: I thought you would be here. Come inside. Barny walks inside and sits down on a comfy pouf chair.
BARNY: I've come to ask you about the three souls who're going to save the world. Do you have any idea about that?
REESE NIGEL: The rumor. I knew it would spread to you, Barny.
BARNY: Chuckles lightly, then looks serious and grave. What is it? What is it based around? Who are the people described in the rumor?
REESE NIGEL: It is a rumor about people saving the Earth from evil; there is no proof of knowing what evil will hit us. It's based around the lullaby called "Spirits of the Irsaal". The people are everyday humans. Maybe it's me, or you, or Hilda Rogue, the receptionist. We don't know.
BARNY: Is there hero blood in me?
REESE NIGEL: We're not a blood tester company, Barny.
BARNY: Is it me?
REESE NIGEL: We don't know. Well, not for sure. All we know is that it's a trap to lure innocent people!
REESE NIGEL: Your time is up, Barny. I have to work, you know.
BARNY: Smiling. O.K., see you. He leaves the room, looking pleased with himself.
The scene changes to a coffee shop. BARNY, JOHN, and IRIS are sipping their cappuccinos thoughtfully.
JOHN CROW: So…what's going on? What'd you find?
IRIS WITHERSPOON: It's a lullaby. Sung to little children. And it's dangerous. Fifteen people have perished from it.
BARNY: That's harsh.
JOHN CROW: Laughing softly. Maybe we shouldn't look for who it is.
IRIS WITHERSPOON: You're mad. We're going. We're going to look, John!
JOHN CROW: I found out that the creator of the song was Crystal Jorge, a Scottish historian who was born in 1864 and died in 1942.
IRIS WITHERSPOON: And Barny?
BARNY: Well, it could be anyone. The lullaby is a song called "Spirits of the Irsaal". The people they describe are humans, and we're going to – well, not us exactly – but humans are going to save good from evil. A journey, I suppose.
JOHN CROW: Nice. We need more information, though. I went to Earl's Diplomatic Society, the embassy down the street. I asked Dr. Bob Yusen.
IRIS WITHERSPOON: Yusen? He's a famous – a famous good-doer. I know he can help! And also, I went to Dane's Laundry. The girl working there is an ancestor of Frieda Jorge. The daughter of Crystal Jorge.
BARNY: Cormorant-Guild Firm. The lawyer firm; Reese Nigel apparently studies the history of lullabies. I went and asked if she knew. And yes, she did. All should be well for now. I will see you two at work?
IRIS WITHERSPOON: Wait. There's someone I would like you to meet.
A girl who looks extremely scared comes into focus. Her name is KIT ROGERS.
KIT ROGERS: Hi. I'm Kit. Kit Rogers. The cousin of Frieda Jorge. She's still alive, you know, and living in Spain. A good life. She sneezes suddenly, then laughs to cover it up. I can bring you to her.
JOHN CROW: This is major; majorly amazing! We've got a step to know who the people are! Thank god!
IRIS WITHERSPOON: We can meet tomorrow to discuss everything, Kit, Barny, John. Is that alright?
BARNY: Yes. I'd like that. He gets up from his chair and exits the room quietly.
The scene changes; in its place an interior of an office building. BARNY, KIT ROGERS, JOHN CROW, and IRIS WITHERSPOON are talking together and discussing important news.
KIT ROGERS: Sighing softly. Frieda didn't respond yet to my message. I wrote a letter to her at night yesterday; and sent it to where she lives. I wonder what's holding her up.
IRIS WITHERSPOON: She's probably busy.
JOHN CROW: Or perhaps she wants a quiet life; she moved to Spain, after all.
KIT ROGERS: No, no, that's not it. My cousin is loving and will answer through thick and thin! I believe that the mail didn't deliver yet.
A man walks up, holding an alabaster white envelope in his hands. He hands it to KIT ROGERS, who looks positively happy.
KIT ROGERS: Opening the paper. I told you she'd answer. Her face falls. No, it can't be true.
JOHN CROW: What can't be true? Kit, give me the paper! He reaches for the paper.
JOHN CROW: Oh my god. Iris, look. Frieda Jorge died three days ago because of some random heart attack. I thought you said she was healthy and well, Kit.
IRIS WITHERSPOON: This is a huge shock to Kit, John. She didn't know, she had no idea whatsoever.
BARNY: So, you're saying our one clue is – is gone? After a long pause, he fidgets and looks at IRIS WITHERSPOON.
BARNY: You're lying. It can't be gone.
JOHN CROW: It's gone, Barny. We're going to have to give up, there's no more clues or ideas or anything that can help us find who is going to save the world.
IRIS WITHERSPOON: I know.
They all look at her.
IRIS WITHERSPOON: At least I think I do.
BARNY: What?
IRIS WITHERSPOON: Kit, do you have any more family members that are related to the Jorges?
KIT ROGERS: No; I don't remember any other long-lost people. I'm sorry.