Profound stillness filled the empty Roman Theater. Darkness shrouded the empty room, but a lone spotlight shined onto the stage. In front of the barely discernible silhouettes of the empty seats, Shakespeare stood beneath the illuminating column. His lavish, emerald battle attire shimmered under the light he had turned on himself; There was no one else in the theater to do it for him, nor watch him stand with barely contained enthusiasm.

Though the theater was empty, the legendary playwright could already hear the thundering applause and acclaim for his work.

It had been many months since inspiration finally returned to him. He was so engrossed in recording the majesty of mankind's current tragedy, that his mind had trouble thinking of anything else. Finally, something worthy broke through, and he pursued it. He recorded it onto paper, and gathered an acceptable cast of volunteers who were ready to perform his play. Though he too was an actor, he preferred if it didn't come to that.

Sadly, it often seemed like it would. Frustration appeared at every corner and coupled with countless delays that tried his patience like never before. It seemed like the play would never come together, but it did! Even if many servants remained quietly concerned over Solomon's supposed inactivity, he looked on the bright side and grasped that offered window. It may have taken longer than anticipated, but the cast and crew were more than ready for today's grand performance.

Soon it would be four in the morning, yet many hours still remained before their late afternoon performance. Regardless, Shakespeare stood enthusiastically with a firm smile as he gazed around the theater. It was a habitual act done before the debut of any major performance back in the day. It was a routine that could not be broken, for he never wished to go against it. It was his own way of exciting himself for his own battle ahead, one which he would gladly fight, so to speak.

"This above all… to thine own self be true," he recited and chuckled. "And it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man."

His masters were as understanding as Amakusa, and he appreciated that. Though he had technically agreed to help fight for humanity, in truth, he came only to witness that fight. He was a poor fighter, and an even worse hero, but if he could do anything, it was spin the grandest tales that must be told. They let him, and they allowed him to be who he was instead of forcing him into the fight; He was grateful, both at their consideration and their own tales of valor worthy as characters in humanity's grandest play.

For them and the other heroes, he could at least do what he did best: Entertain and raise the spirits with his world-famous writing.

Shakespeare blinked slowly, breathed deeply, and smiled proudly. He could hear the thundering applause, again, and though he imagined it was a vision of the future, it wasn't. It was simply the roars of the many spectators he entertained time and time again in the Globe Theater. Their roars of praise were embedded in his mind, a sound completely familiar and common to the playwright like calm rain.

He blinked again, and the empty darkness was shattered by a brief glimpse of a multi-tiered structure. Fans, both royal and poor alike, cheered and waved for the performance delivered solely through acting and literary skill. Memories of a time when he basked in monumental fame echoed in his eyes and ears, but it was an age long gone. Now, he was in Chaldea, standing on the stage of a new theater.

The time had finally arrived to put on a breathtaking performance once more.

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Fragment 72: To Be, or Not To Be?

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The applause died down, and Shakespeare opened his eyes, but he raised his free arm towards the gathered audience.

It was already four in the afternoon, and the audience was finally present. There had been no delays, nor any setbacks during the preceding hours. Everything had gone smoothly with Helena's help, and the battle-clad playwright could not have been more thankful. The time had finally arrived as he gazed once more across the filled theater… or as filled as it could get in Chaldea's understaffed state. When the time came to do another play, he'd hoped the new staff and possible future servants would help fill those remaining seats.

In his peripherals and line of sight, mostly masked by the darkness, he could still see the expecting gazes locked onto him. Gilgamesh, Ozymandias, and Iskandar stared him down with small smirks near the theater's center. He glanced the masters' excited stares from another section, and Amakusa's already amused smile in another. Everywhere he looked, familiar faces waited to judge his performance, and he would not disappoint any of them.

If any could deliver a fine performance, it was William Shakespeare.

"The moonlight shines on grand Venice, where we lay our scene. The City of Romance, where young hearts sing in hopes of being answered! In hopes of finding love!" he began, in more modernized English than he would have preferred; Alas, much of the cast had severe issues remembering their lines if he hadn't… 'dumbed it down' so to speak.

"Pure intent and honest continuance… but alas, for what is love, but a war of hearts?" He whipped his olive cape dramatically in his other arm, and took a few steps to one side of the stage. The spotlight followed perfectly. Hundred Face's crew were better than he could have hoped, and were a primary pillar of his confidence this day. "For each who grasps the bosom of victory, another fertilizes ravaged fields on fading breath! Not all who reach have been kissed by fortune's lips!"

He quickly walked to the other side without missing a beat. "The rose of love is beautiful… yet marred by the thorns of strife, jealousy, and betrayal! Yet, even so, love makes us blind, for countless yearn to grasp the stem, uncaring for however much they may bleed!"

He had finally returned to the center, and flicked his favorite cape yet again. His theatrics drew some chuckles from the audience, but he didn't mind. "Among the lights of this fair city, our love story begins… Another tale of innocence and tragedy, where love threatens to run the waters red with one shade or another! A tale of love found and lost to the folly of man, who wished for nothing more than soothe aching hearts!"

With a proud smile, Shakespeare bowed as the lone spotlight on him faded away. The crowd applauded courteously as he quickly disappeared behind the closed red curtains. With his cryptic opening delivered, and the stage behind the curtains set, his enthusiasm remained high. He could hear the quiet talking from his crew and cast as they shelved their last nerves and prepared for the prologue.

As he quickly made his way backstage, Helena, who wore a strapless black evening dress, walked up to him as his actors took their places. Several of Hundred Face's identities made for great, voiceless extras when cloaked by his illusion magecraft. They didn't even need to 'get dressed' so long as he was there. The few Hassans, who looked exactly like sixteenth century dock workers, nodded to him as he nodded back. One of Helena's floating automata signaled to the rafters, and the curtains slowly opened.

While the lights faded on, and the extras began filing out onto the Venetian stage, Helena patted his cape-holding arm. "So far, so good! This will be great!"

"I'd prefer the compliment after everything goes smoothly," he noted, though still smiled. It was laced with the undercurrents of his lingering jitters. As confident as he was, he knew mistakes could still appear. It was not something he was unaware of, since it happened before… but he had dedicated actors back then. However, for a cast of mostly untrained volunteers, he could not argue they'd done much to meet his expectations.

"It'll be fine. Just trust everyone," Helena reassured, and he honestly did appreciate the gesture. He could only do so much now that the play started. She shot him another glance before snickering slightly. "Hans is going to say something regardless… You might as well accept his criticism now."

Honestly, that hardly bothered him, but he still chuckled lightly. Whether it was supposed to be another of her jokes or not, he didn't know. He was just glad he had supportive friends like her and Phantom, and truly felt terrible for scolding her on a few occasions. Regardless, they stuck by him, and it gave him that extra confidence he felt he needed today.

As the large, red curtain opened, he couldn't help shake the feeling something was going to go wrong.

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The crafted play was short, but he wasn't expecting it to be his next Macbeth or Othello. It was a rather straightforward, one-and-a-half hour play with minimalistic dialogue when measured to his usual literary standard. It was done to be easy and accommodating for the volunteered actor group, and his three leads had mastered their roles better than he could have hoped. He had no fear they were going to make this play at least memorable, even if it wouldn't go down in history as one of his major masterpieces.

Perhaps it would, if only because of the fame of its actors and playwright… or maybe the number of subtle mistakes that he had the horror of witnessing.

"It's alright, Will. They're still going strong," Helena tried to reassure with a sheepish grin. "It was a simple mistake."

For some reason, one of the employee actors was told a new changing room had been put up; It was actually one of the makeshift rooms that needed to be opened in the previous scene. So when his leading actress opened it, she flashed the audience a nice view of a woman in her underwear. They played it off well since the room was supposed to be empty, and Mata Hari proved great at improvising on the spot. At least the employee wasn't completely naked.

That was just the biggest offense, however.

Shakespeare took long breaths to calm his nerve-wracked mind. It was only ten minutes into the play… Ten minutes, yet he had already seen six subtle mistakes! That wasn't even counting a few flubbed lines from some supporting characters. Although, truthfully, the meaning wasn't lost; It just sounded even less eloquent then it already was.

His anxiety, however, was rising as he clutched his theater cape like a security blanket.

Never before had he ever conducted a play with such a near-outright breach of immersion. He had a standard, and his cast knew he held it highly. For that standard to even be threatened frustrated him, yet that's exactly what happened with the changing room accident. "Ignazio" was made to be a serious tragedy, through and through. This love story was written with no jokes or quips… and yet the audience laughed a few times already.

At the moment, the new scene remained organized and on track despite a few slips. The scene depicted the busy Venice docks, where workers loaded and unloaded ships. Mata Hari scampered between the dock workers clad in a vibrant, aristocratic dress. Her face was distraught as she asked another worker, "Excuse me! Have you seen the Messina? It was supposed to dock here by now!"

"Haven't seen it, miss," the worker replied casually before she ran off to the next worker. The employee was supposed to have his mic cut there so his ambient conversation wouldn't be picked up… yet the mic was not shut off fast enough, and his next words were caught. "Wouldn't mind docking in her right now, eh, Captain?"

The audience laughed as his mic was finally cut, and Shakespeare groaned. The employee glanced backstage in apologetic fright and mouthed an apology. Helena just patted Shakespeare on the back again, "Calm down, Will… It fit well as a cat call. I don't think anyone thought it was a mistake."

"This isn't supposed to be funny…!" he managed to whisper out with growing indignation.

Honestly, he was impressed Mata Hari still executed her role perfectly without giving any heed to the growing number of mistakes. The assassin played the role of Liliana, who was the daughter of a rich merchant. Going from worker to worker, she was trying to find news about a specific ship. She finally stood and sobbed by an employee who acted as the deliverer. He had just revealed that the Messina sunk in last night's storm, and his ship failed to find any survivors among the wreckage. Ignazio, Liliana's secret lover and struggling opera singer, was dead.

"You have my condolences, madam..." The worker went back to his task, leaving Mata Hari to cry on the stage while several extras in the background kept the scene immersive. Back in his day, extras were an unnecessary distraction, but he wanted to explore that modern style. They'd been a wonderful addition… most of the time.

Shakespeare watched and attempted to calm himself as Mata Hari took center stage to begin her heartfelt soliloquy. She wiped some actual tears, that she was amazing at faking, and cried, "Ignazio! How could he… No! You can't be dead! It's a lie! After waiting for so many nights, praying for your safe return, you can't just leave me now! That's not how it was supposed to be! This isn't the happily ever after you promised me!"

On cue, the dock workers glanced to her, then each other, and quietly shook their heads. They went back to work, symbolizing the world coldly moves on without any real care. It was a poetic visualization Shakespeare appreciated; An extra literary movement to help enhance his work in subtle ways.

"You promised my ring when you returned, but the only gift I've received are these tears! To make a woman cry… To make her miss your smiling face! How could you do that!?" She collapsed to her knees and buried her face in her hands. Further behind her, several workers operated a wooden crane to help load the replicated tall ship. Mata Hari wailed, "You were no soldier! Death shouldn't have taken you from me! Why!? If one was fated to perish, why couldn't it be someone else!?"

One worker on the docks glanced to her briefly, but it was enough of a gap. The rope on the crane snapped and dropped its lone crate on top of the distracted extra. He fell onto the dock as the crate shattered on top of him; Thankfully it was an illusion-disguised Hassan that got hit as opposed to one of the few employee actors. As if it wasn't bad enough that the audience saw that, Shakespeare gawked at the crate's contents.

Mata Hari didn't even turn back to look… which was the only redeeming action in that moment.

Among the shattered crate's remains, and the other extras helping unbury the dock worker, was a pile of stuffed animals. Not only did they break immersion, but they were fluffy toys made in the likeness of Fou. Shakespeare could hear Fou's surprised yelps among the audience's laughter as he turned around in sheer disbelief. The black-suit wearing Hundred Face had been staring at the accident when she glanced over and flinched.

"Why were there stuffed animals in that crate!?" Shakespeare whispered as angrily as he could. "Why are there stuffed animals of Fou on my stage!?"

"I think Naomi and Medea were experimenting with a stuffed animal line…" Helena mumbled and scrunched her eyebrows in thought.

Hundred Face raised her arms in pure shock and surrender. "None of the creates were full! We checked all the props twice this morning!"

"That clearly wasn't empty, unless my eyes deceive me!" Shakespeare pointed incredulously at the group of dock workers. He looked back and felt his mouth fall open as the dock workers casually loaded another one of the crates with the stuffed animals like nothing happened. The fallen dock worker remained down and pretended to be unconscious; Shakespeare had declared if a mistake was made, it should be followed and improvised accordingly so the flow would not be ruined further.

Unfortunately, that bit him hard. Even if his face was now buried in his hands, his fingers remained spaced so he could stare in stressed horror. The other dock workers casually picked up their fallen comrade, marched him off stage while Mata Hari finished her aside, then quickly returned to work like nothing happened.

Helena rubbed Shakespeare's back as he groaned. "It's okay, Will… I don't think it went over that badly?"

Shakespeare turned to face her with one of the most incredulous stares he'd ever worn.

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Barely seven minutes later, Shakespeare was glad this scene had no extras. It was only two of the leads, which meant very little chance for mistakes. He had gotten lucky that a few employees and his leads ranged from fairly talented to excellent actors. Helena said to chalk the mistakes up to stage anxiety or strange technical issues, but his irritation remained. Shakespeare knew it was likely the case, but he had his standards. It didn't help the practices in the past week had been fairly deceptive with their lack of mistakes.

However, this moonlit scene was going very smoothly. Perfect line delivery, acting, and blocking. It felt like he was watching a Globe Theater production again, and it made him smile proudly. His own worries were benched as he gazed from his favorite spot at the stage's wing, concealed by the dark curtain.

Arash and Mata Hari rested on a gondola in center stage, alone underneath a moonlit canal spun with the help of Helena's illusions. The stage looked like water, which further enhanced the immersion and production quality to an absurd level; It was funny to think he was content with just costumes and a few props in his former life. After tasting this new tier of production, there was definitely no going back for the playwright. He had fallen to spectacle creep.

Standing at the end of the boat, holding on to the oar as he stood proudly in his brightly colored military uniform. He stared at Mata Hari with conflicted eyes and spoke, "Liliana… Our parents arranged it, but I can still refuse… Ignazio was dear to me too, and I couldn't go against him in such a way."

"Vittorio… I… I'm not sure I…" Mata Hari began, but fell quiet as she stared away from him.

"I know. He was wonderful to us both," Arash affirmed. The archer was playing Ignazio's best friend, Vittorio, who was a famed war hero in the Great Turkish War. This scene took place three weeks since Ignazio's death, and served as a small turning point. "If you're unwilling, I could call it off."

"…That's what has me uncertain," Mata Hari admitted, which made Arash turn to her in surprise. "Ignazio wanted nothing more than my happiness… I would have wanted it to be with him, but that's no longer possible. He would have wanted both of us to be happy."

"But for me to just…! I wouldn't feel right marrying you so soon after his-!"

"If you don't, then I'll be forced onto someone else!" she quickly countered with concern. "I don't like it either, Vittorio… but if it's you, I at least know how kind you are. I can be happy with you! War may have injured your leg, but your noble heart was left unscarred… I'm certain Ignazio would have agreed this would be for the best... You were like his brother, after all!"

"That's what makes me hesitant…!" Arash admitted as he bit on his own thumb in thought. "Then… you honestly think we should…?"

"… I can agree to it. My father is desperate to save our family's prestige, so I'd rather it be my friend than one of the other nobles…"

Shakespeare stood at the sidelines quietly nodding in approval, which earned a pleased smile from Helena and Hundred Face. His eyes practically sparkled, for this is exactly what he wanted to see: Absolute, perfect execution of his writing. He could be satisfied with this. It almost made him forget the unfortunate mistakes in the rocky beginning, but it appeared that was behind them now.

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His play's moonlit affirmation scene had gone beautifully, and this one was off to great start as well; There was only one potential issue that he occasionally glanced towards. It was one of the cartoon-like bushes Nursery Rhyme painted, which made this revelation scene a little cheerier than it should have been. However, it was not the bush that bothered him at the moment…

…It was Yedda, who was trapped behind the bush. She had volunteered to help set the stage, but her black dress got caught under the bush's supports somehow. No one had caught her trying to free herself in the rush until it was too late and the lights came back on. Thankfully, she hid behind the bush rather than dematerialize and break immersion with a shower of golden dust. All she needed to do was remain there quietly, which was easy for an assassin.

'Sorry…' she mouthed again towards Shakespeare, but he merely waved it off. It was a mistake, but she was handling it very well while the next scene could play out.

The stage now resembled a forested part of the mainland, where Arash was accompanying Mata Hari back towards a port. It was a month after the previous scene, and it showcased how genuinely in love the two had fallen. Their arranged marriage looked brighter and closer than before, but the shadow of the recent past followed them.

A shadow named Ignazio, who was played by Phantom.

The cloaked man hid behind a tree and gazed at the engaged couple having a small break picnic. He stepped towards the audience as the lights dimmed on the rest of the scene. The spotlight faded onto him for his aside, "I thought my eyes played tricks on me… yet woe is me! Oh…! What lies before me is true! It shakes my heart with disbelief, but no, rage shall not enter! Vittorio is my brother, and Liliana my dear to be! To cast me out of their hearts so fast is inconceivable!"

Phantom of the Opera snuck to a closer tree, and eyed the happily laughing couple. "They laugh…! They're both so happy, as if I was not lost but weeks ago! My heart is thankful, yet pained! Soothed, yet torn! I must end this misery and reacquaint myself! They're happy, but they'll be happier when I-!"

A spotlight brightened on the picnicking pair. Mata Hari leaned in and pecked Arash on the cheek, making both of them laugh. Phantom threw a hand over his heart and gasped. He turned away in surprise, and his cloak brushed by a nearby bush... The bush Yedda hid behind. Phantom breathed heavily. "…My eyes… Do they deceive me again…? Did my love… Did Lilianna and Vittorio just…?"

Arash and Mata Hari laughed and giggled at the picnic, creating an ambience that echoed through their microphones. The woman smiled, "Sorry… You had a crumb on the side of your mouth!"

"Well, allow me to thank you for your consideration, my dear," he answered back before making a light gasp. "Ah! An offending crumb on your own! Allow me!"

Phantom watched as he leaned in and kissed her cheek, making her playfully flush and giggle. He leaned on the tree for support as he breathed painfully. "…I've… I've been forgotten so easily. Just like that… Vittorio is in my place… without any hint of remorse or regret! Was I just temporary? …Was I being used? How long have they been like this? When they came to my performances and sat beside each other, were they secretly…?"

A moment passed in silence, before Phantom punched the tree. Shakespeare nodded with a smile as the hard sound rang through the theater. Arash and Mata Hari looked over as he smacked the tree again in silent anguish. Soon, the cloaked man quickly panicked, turned, and hid behind the tree, making his cloak brush past Yedda's bush again. Arash stood up and drew his rapier, "Who's there!? A thief!? Make yourself known!"

Yedda sneezed, and Shakespeare gawked as the bush fell over; Phantom's cape likely had something to do with it. The child assassin was now a deer in the headlights as she looked around in panic. Some light cooing echoed from the audience as Yedda flushed and panicked. She scampered as fast as she could towards the back stage while yelling, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

As many in the audience laughed or cooed, Arash and Phantom followed their roles. Arash smiled lightly and shook his head, then sheathed his rapier. He turned back to Mata Hari and sat down, "Ahhh… just a child playing around. Maybe she sought to spy on our love? Perhaps we were a little too open for her to resist, weren't we, Liliana?"

Mata Hari giggled. "You make it very hard for me to suppress my heart."

Even though Yedda was still quietly apologizing to Shakespeare, he merely reached down and patted her head; He was now severely impressed with his leads. They'd not only taken it in character, but improvised with the accident. Arash even transitioned back towards their real lines where they played it off as just a forest animal. Phantom remained behind the tree, clutching his heart and waiting for his cue to continue his aside.

Though it was another big mistake, it could have been far worse.

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The play was nearly halfway over, and the mistakes had grown scarce.

Phantom paced on stage within the dim lighting. A garden of Venice was depicted behind him, made to serve an ideal spot for his character's newfound plight. Shakespeare would have nodded from the sidelines, with no doubt in his mind his good friend would ace this scene beyond doubt. It was just too bad they couldn't go with his original poetic wording, otherwise it would have been jarring to the rest of the play. Nevertheless, he made sure the soliloquy remained as dramatic and questioning as the many others in his famed works.

Dressed in fair linens, neither as a commoner nor noble, Phantom paced on set and brought a hand to his face. "…My hands are tied, and my feet refuse to move. A fair party… held in my honor… yet what is there to celebrate except my own remorse? Death could stare my way, yet I'd only feel ease..."

It was a scene Shakespeare designed to showcase Ignazio's turning point. He had seemingly lost everything, including his chance at stardom in an opera he auditioned for. The opera singer had unveiled his survival to Vittorio and Liliana in a previous scene. Since his relationship was secret, Ignazio had no chance with the now engaged woman; However, to mend the seams, Vittorio was hosting a party for his friend's survival. That did nothing to quell his inner turmoil, for Vittorio would not yield Liliana's hand to his best friend!

The scene would mark the resolve of true human emotion! Against difficult odds and dim circumstances, a true hero, tragic or not, would be called to action! Whether or not he was in the right didn't matter to him anymore, for he was going to fight for the last happiness that was previously within reach! In this scene, those lingering doubts would be erased, and Ignazio would pursue his love desperately in his distraught yet determined state!

…Yet doubts and suspicion remained in Shakespeare's mind as he scratched his beard and looked around back stage.

He had a hunch nearly all of these strange mistakes and technical mishaps weren't just coincidence; His cast and crew were not flawelss, but they performed marvelously in the past week. Even if it was possible stage jitters, there were some issues that simply couldn't be explained. As he strolled past waiting Hassans and preparing actors, he glanced in every nook and cranny in an attempt to suppress his inner skepticism.

"Something wrong, Shakespeare?" The playwright glanced behind him to see Chevalier d'Eon, dressed properly as a Venetian Captain. His inquisitive stare looked past the caster and towards the barrel he had recently opened. "They're empty. Asako did a third check a minute ago."

"Have you noticed anything peculiar, D'Eon?" Shakespeare asked with profound seriousness. There wasn't a hint of mirth on his face.

"In what sense? Is it about the mistakes?" the saber asked politely.

Shakespeare nodded. "I can't shake the feeling someone is trying to disrupt my play… If anyone would have noticed anything back here, I trust it'd be you and Asako."

As a former spy, D'Eon was a master of intelligence gathering. Even compared to Hundred Face, his eye was sharpened for anything that stood out unusually; Hidden info, items, or people were quickly spotted by the saber. It was that same skill with spycraft that made D'Eon an incredible actor, but he didn't need him to be one right now. Shakespeare needed someone to quell his anxiety over sabotage.

D'Eon shook his head. "I haven't seen anything in particular, but I'll keep an eye out. I know this play means a lot to your prestige. We all do."

Shakespeare sighed and smiled. "Thank you. Your loyalty to your charge is worth a scene by itself."

D'Eon chuckled lightly. "You already gave me a scene for it though… or my character, I should say."

Shakespeare perked up as Phantom's emotional cries tore through the auditorium. It made him grin, "Wonderful, Erik!"

The caster bid the saber a quiet farewell before he walked quickly towards his viewing spot. Helena would no doubt have good news for him, and the sound track of a loving couple was about to play! It would act as the final nail for Ignazio, who would steel himself and pursue Liliana even to the tragic end! Such sweet sounds of gentle and chaste romance would be like thunder that tore through the opera singer's heart! The mood of the scene would then shift to-

"Oh, heavens! Yeesssss! Don't stop!" That was definitely not the track they've been using for the past week.

Shakespeare, fueled by incredulous irritation, stormed towards the record player. The massive Hassan, who looked more like a power-lifter than an assassin, stared at the approaching caster. Concern and uncertainty emanated from the hulking man as he looked down at the angry playwright; It would have been comical, if the sounds of erotic passion weren't echoing from a lit window in the scene. Hundred Face quickly walked over as Shakespeare crossed his arms.

"Explain yourself!" he spat as angrily as he could without yelling. "This is not the track we've been using!"

"B-But it's the replacement track you left for me!" the Hassan quickly countered as he pointed at a sheet by the sound mixer. Hundred Face quickly began scolding the bigger identity while Shakespeare picked up the sheet of paper. His eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

Change of plans! I've found a more suitable track for the performance. Use this instead.
~William Shakespeare

It was written very elegantly, and to be fair, only he would be able to tell the difference. "…This isn't my handwriting."

The track came to an end, and while the audience was laughing, Shakespeare fumed. This was more than just coincidence now; Someone was trying to ruin his play's mood! To think, the culprit even sought to turn him against his own cast and crew too! This was unacceptable! To ruin a work of the great William Shakespeare was an unforgiveable act, and the culprit would pay dearly!

"Asako." Shakespeare's voice was so unnervingly serious, it was unrecognizable. Even Mata Hari shivered nearby. "I have a request for you and your crew."

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Ever since the crackdown, the entire backstage was under heavy surveillance. It put Shakespeare at slight ease, but he still remained vigilant. This was the first time his work had ever been threatened to such a degree, and it infuriated him; A playwright shouldn't have to deal with this! Luckily enough, and despite how rude he had been in his stress, his cast and crew did not hesitate to help.

Shakespeare was beyond appreciative, and he would find a way to reward them correctly. He could be adamant and strict with his work, but he was not a total slave driver. Without them, his piece would not have a voice, and these volunteers truly made him proud. Even with the play seemingly under siege, they acted accordingly and as strictly coached, and they would deserve more than praise after this.

He'd figure out what later, for his own enthusiasm was peaking at the party scene. This was one held a personal gift that might have seemed a bit shoehorned, but he wanted it. Shakespeare wanted the audience to know, even with the previous scene's acting, that his friend, Phantom of the Opera, was a beautiful artist that deserved recognition. Of course, the playwright would still take plenty of praise and credit for constructing this wonderful piece too.

The party scene was held in Vittorio's private gardens. It had been a small festive scene, where Vittorio introduced Ignazio to Captain Farlono, played by D'Eon. The Captain was a secret fan of Ignazio's singing, but his glory-seeking, second-in-command beside him was indifferent. Though Ignazio acted courteous and refined, small asides and unseen glances showed the singer's newfound animosity over the betrayal. It wasn't until it was just Ignazio, Vittorio, and Liliana remaining under a makeshift sunset that everything finally exploded.

"Ignazio, please! It's not like that!" Mata Hari urged as she stood between Arash and Phantom.

"Then what is it like, Liliana?" Phantom asked incredulously as he pointed to her. "What is it like to run so quickly to my best friend!? To toss me away like a used rag!?"

"Bite your tongue! She did not toss you away so readily!" Arash barked back, but Phantom's glare ignited further.

"As if you are one to speak! Did our friendship amount to nothing, vulture!?" Phantom yelled as he took a step forward. Mata Hari stumbled back in distress, and Arash held her close as they stared at the angry man. "Look how readily she seeks comfort in your embrace! Not two moons ago, it was mine that held you dear! Yet now those eyes have lost the warmth for me! They look elsewhere for fairer winds!"

"We didn't have a choice! We thought you'd perished, and my fathe-!"

"Ne'er before has your father's opinion of me stomped on our blossoming flowers!" Phantom decried.

Helena muffled her giggle from backstage as Shakespeare nodded his head continuously with shimmering eyes. "Feeling better, boss?"

"It's as if they're pouring more energy to makeup for earlier mishaps!" Shakespeare practically swooned with delight as he smiled towards Helena.

"Maybe they are?" the smaller caster hummed as she glanced around at the gathered cast and crew. There were excited murmurs as the argument on stage reached its eerie crescendo, but Phantom's voice didn't raise further; It lowered hauntingly. Helena smiled, "Let's see what you've been hiding, Erik."

Shakespeare grinned. This part he ensured was woven into the mix, even if it caused him a potential ribbing from Hans later. However, he did want to delve into the idea of a 'unique monologue.' It would be an expression of the heart, and one last song from the fallen songbird to convince his lover to return! At the same time, it would open the eyes of many to the quiet, introverted, but very talented artist that Shakespeare thoroughly believed in.

This was a critical moment: If there was any part of the play he didn't want to go wrong, it was this impassioned moment.

"If you have nothing more than churlish prattle, then take your leave, Ignazio!"

"… I see, Vittorio… Our friendship is but a memory on forgotten shores…" Phantom stood with his back to Mata Hari and Arash with eyes closed. "…If I may… My parting words, in hopes my voice may remind you once more."

The sound system began to play. Shakespeare counted his lucky stars it was the right track. Though this was no musical, the song was chosen and lyrics modified to serve as a cryptic, hidden message to both of them. It was no mere swan song for Ignazio, but a promised threat. The recording by the musical group, finished well before the show's debut, sounded perfect on the system. All that remained was his friend's faultless touch.

~~Nessun dorma!~~
~~Nessun dorma!~~

Helena's mouth was already slowly opening with shock as quiet whispers ran rampant among the gathered backstage crowd. Shakespeare retained his smile and nodded proudly as Phantom turned around to face his fellow leads, singing in a pristine opera voice. He downplayed it so much, but Shakespeare found it rather poetic that the famed phantom would have such a powerful voice.

~~Guardi le stelle che tremano~~
~~D'amore e di speranza~~

His heart was beating, and his eyes scanned for anything that was amiss; His paranoia proved wrongly placed. Everything was going well, and Phantom sang to a surprised and still audience. Mata Hari and Arash were doing a fair job keeping their incredulous expressions, though Shakspeare had to wonder how astonished they were too. This secret had been kept the whole time, but the delivery to all of Chaldea should prove fruitful.

The rather simple and quick aria reached its crescendo, and Shakespeare was relieved. Nothing had gone wrong. Nothing was out of place. The saboteur was foiled by the vigilant watch of the cast and crew, which allowed his friend's key moment to shine brightly. Phantom sang perfectly through the last notes, and no matter how many times Shakespeare heard it in secret, it still gave him chills.

~~All'alba vincerò!~~
~~Vincerà!~~
~~Vincerò!~~

Phantom held the last note with arm outstretched towards Mata Hari and Arash. He held it even as the recorded orchestra played its final notes. He ran out of breath, but ended the song flawlessly as the music concluded. As soon as the recording ended, the theater was plunged into darkness to allow the scene change. Without missing a beat, Hundred Face's crew began setting up the next scene as the leads quickly left the dark stage.

They did so under an applause so loud, Shakespeare could barely hear his own thoughts. He grinned proudly and recited, "Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them."

And so, it was finally placed upon his friend.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ VIII ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

Though the pivotal declaration scene had gone so well, the perpetrator had taken advantage of the cast and crew's distraction. D'Eon and Arash's characters were having a small scene at the Venetian canals, warning about the increased activity of Turkish spies. Ignazio was hidden in an alley, listening in as ideas churned in his mind, which would be depicted by an aside. It had been going swimmingly at first, until one of the ambient gondolas floated by on its wheels…

…with one of the crates clearly showing a Coca Cola advertisement designed like an era-appropriate wanted poster.

The playwright heard the audience laugh yet again at something else, but he was too busy searching around backstage with available crew. It's been the fourth time he's checked various props. The gondola had been checked before it even sailed on its makeshift, hidden wheels, yet the advertisement somehow appeared in a five-minute gap. Someone was doing something, and at worst it was secretly one of his own crew.

"Shakespeare! This changing room door is still locked!"

With narrowed eyes, Shakespeare turned rapidly, which caused his held cape to flutter dramatically. He and Hundred Face quickly walked through the obstacle course of props and scenery to reach one of the many changing rooms. The battle-clad Zayd rattled the doorknob again, but it didn't budge; Any actual force, and he would likely tear it clean off. The male identity looked to the playwright and offered him the door. "I thought you'd want to see for yourself. There's no response on the other side."

"I don't sense anything either," Hundred Face mused as she crossed her arms. Discontent to squander time, Shakespeare reached for the doorknob and rattled it. The representative identity took a step forward. "Please, allow me. We're experts at infiltration, after all."

Shakespeare nodded. He stepped aside as Hundred Face quickly materialized a lockpick. With speed and dexterity, she nimbly disengaged the lock and tried the knob again. The door nudged open, and Hundred Face nodded to Zayd. She took a step into the lit changing roo- Clang!

A bucket of ice water fell onto the Hassan, making her slam a hand over her mouth to stifle her yelp. Shakespeare was far enough away not to get splashed, but he still stared in shock as Hundred Face looked at her soaked clothes in irritation. She glanced into the empty room and fumed. Curious, Shakespeare took a few steps closer and looked within. He quickly spotted the offending note on the mirror, which was the only thing he could see past Hundred Face.

"Thanks for taking the Ice Bucket Challenge! :D"

Shakespeare narrowed his eyes and his frown deepened. This changing room was used by some of his lead actors for a quick change of clothes, and wet clothes could have potentially set them back. He was silently grateful Hundred Face took the hit instead, but it was now clearer than ever: The saboteur was not letting up.

"I'll fetch you a towel… and keep my eyes peeled," Zayd quickly stated before running off.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ IX ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

"Relax, Shakespeare. Deep breaths…"

He did as Mata Hari told him, but it did very little. He had walked away from watching the play, if only because tiny mistakes kept occurring, but no one could find a culprit. He had begun to think it was a giant conspiracy to get back at him for being so adamant and strict during practices. But was it? They had been so excited and enthusiastic in the past few days knowing how ready the play looked to be. Now it was one tiny incident after another.

The regally dressed assassin, waiting for her next scene, sat beside him on a chair. In front of them, scattered amongst the props, some of Hundred Face's identities played cards or kept watch for him. He glanced at them as Mata Hari rubbed his back soothingly. He chuckled dryly, "…So this is how tragedy feels..."

Mata Hari blinked with bewilderment. "What do you mean?"

It didn't really need to be said, especially when next to a beautiful woman with such a tragic life: His own was successful, and rather unmarred. It was a quaint existence where he basked in fame and fanfare for most of his latter life. His younger days were rather uneventful, and when combined, few could argue he lived predominantly ideal years. Though he loved the tragedies in his later days, he never did experience a true one.

Today changed that. Though it could be seen as peanuts for most, to a famed playwright… the utter failure of a play was damnation! He had put forth all his effort in his past life to prove Greene wrong, and that he was not just some upstart crow; Shakespeare grew into an iconic name in theatrics through ambitious and persistence. Yet, it is only now that he gained an audience many playwrights could only dream of: A theater filled with legendary heroes.

To screw that up was a scar upon his grand name, one that he could never live down… nor even think about happening.

Yes… This was probably trivial to most, especially to Mata Hari. Then again, he supposed it was a destined retribution. How many times had he spun lies and crafted circumstances to fit a better tale? How inconsiderate had he been to others, who he saw in his outright excitement as mere actors in a story that must be told? With a growing tragedy upon his shoulders, it was only now that he understood even a mere grain of what others endured.

He was a weaver of stories, yet they lived tales far more tragic by any comparison. This was just karma for seeing their accounts so casually. However, karma or not, he wasn't going to give up! He'd ask his crew to search further in hopes of discovering the culprit. Even if the performance was now marred by scars, he could at least ensure the finale went as planned. Resolve partially renewed, Shakespeare shook his head and chuckled lightly, "It was nothing, Mata Hari. My tongue ran from my reach."

She seemed unconvinced, but still smiled reassuringly. "Okay… but if you need to vent, I'm all ears. Feel free to make one of your monologues! Even in that crazy English!"

That cheered him up a bit, and he found himself genuinely chuckling. "Do not tempt me, Liliana… You pry at the lock of Pandora's box!"

"I know, I know… but if it makes you feel better, I'll gladly do it!" Mata Hari smiled and giggled. Sometimes, she was far too kind for this world. "This is one of your master pieces! You shouldn't be all mopey about it even if things are going wrong! Just look at everything that went right!"

That was true. A lot had been left untouched. He nodded, and she mused out loud with a finger to her lips. "Although… It is a little weird all the mistakes seem so well timed..."

Most of it had gone right, and the on-stage mistakes were curiously orchestrated with the dialogue or circumstances. It was definitely not coincidence, but it made him think hard. Whoever was doing it wasn't just making random strikes like the ice bucket; This was a crafted sabotage whenever an incident occurred on stage… but why?

Mata Hari looked up as Hundred Face waved her over. "…I gotta go! Please cheer up, director!"

Shakespeare chuckled, and discarded his thoughts momentarily. "Then keep giving me a performance that will do just that!"

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ X ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

The stage was set like a nighttime alley, and an aristocrat stumbled his way down its length. The dressed employee moved down the alleyway, drinking and slurring all the while. Behind him, Phantom followed with Vittorio's gifted sword on his belt. He snuck from cover to cover as the drunken noble stumbled towards the middle of the stage. As he reached it, he laughed blissfully and turned around. "I knooow you've ven folloween meh, theeef!"

Phantom stepped out of the shadows as the spotlight illuminated him. He was cloaked in dark rags and appeared as an assassin with a glistening sword. He faced the noble, who had a notable and loud stance against Vittorio's heroic exploits. To kill him and plant the sword meant the perfect framing for murder. It was made even easier since the noble was drunk, and could not tell who he was.

"Tryun ta zurpriiize meh, are ye?" the noble slurred as he drew his sword.

As he did, his pants fell to the ground. The audience laughed, but he made no move to pull them up; He did a good job of hiding his surprise even as Shakespeare gawked at yet another mishap. If it were another's play, he would have laughed at the literal depiction of the idiom, but it only reaffirmed his belief; This culprit engineered these mistakes accordingly to change the mood.

Maybe it was Nursery Rhyme? She did hate tragedies, but he didn't think she'd make a campaign out of this…

"This is nothing personal…" Phantom murmured as he charged the man. The drunken noble fought back valiantly, even with his pants down. Phantom lunged, but the noble made multiple sidesteps. Even encumbered, he fought well, but the scene was turning far funnier than it should have been. The audience was laughing and clapping as the employee pulled off an incredible display of finesse in his handicapped state.

Finally, their rapiers locked together, but his opponent managed to disarm the lead actor. In response, Phantom headbutted the noble before he could go for a strike. The aristocratic employee stumbled backward, and nearly lost his complete footing. Thanks to the pants at his ankles, he wavered, but kept mostly upright. He nearly toppled over, but he swung his arms to keep himself upright.

Phantom, who followed his coordinated blocking, dove for his discarded rapier and grabbed it. He spun around and blindly lunged to impale past the employee's chest… and prodded the bent over man's behind by mistake. The employee quickly straightened and yelped before he collapsed onto the ground. As Shakespeare designed, Phantom then hurried over and mutilated the body with several mock slashes, even as the employee remained in fetal position on the ground.

Phantom discarded the blade beside the whimpering man, and shot him an apologetic look the audience couldn't see. He panted, "What have I... I… I've really done it! …I've… killed another for love…!"

The rest of his soliloquy about the sinful path of vengeance went smoothly, even as some audience members chuckled at the pants-less, acting corpse on the stage. When Phantom finished, he stared at his shaking hands, then looked around quickly as yells echoed from both sides of the stage. Phantom ran from the stage as the lights dimmed further. The audience clapped as the thinner, black curtains closed to change the scene, which allowed Phantom to quickly murmur an apology to Shakespeare before running back towards the downed employee.

Shakespeare groaned into his hand; At least that was the only part that poor soul had to play.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ XI ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

Panic filled the stage's depicted manor. There is a warrant out for Vittorio's arrest, which would easily lead to his execution. Liliana had decided to run away with him rather than leave the shamed hero to his doom like Ignazio hoped. As the pair bickered on stage, arguing over whether or not it was right that she did so, Shakespeare had been called over to investigate a potential problem.

Hundred Face blinked. "So you're telling us…"

The employee who played the drunk noble in an earlier scene, nodded with a slightly flushed face. "Yup… I think someone spiked the refreshments."

"And Yedda wanted to have a sip of this…" Hundred Face sighed as she glanced towards the offending offering.

Shakespeare stared blankly at the punch bowl, which wasn't supposed to be there to begin with. It sat among water bottles atop a table, newly placed by a bunch of catering robots. It was only supposed to be water and some light snacks that wouldn't cause any potential speech issues. Instead, catering had curiously brought in a punch bowl, and an alcoholic one at that. It was a good thing the first person to take it was an actor who was already finished.

He glanced over to Helena, who monitored the play by his chosen spot. She glanced back to him, as he motioned to the punch bowl curiously. She shrugged; Clearly she didn't place the order for it. It seemed the perpetrator wanted his cast and crew to get the after party started a little earlier than anticipated.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention," Shakespeare stated to the employee, who nodded quickly in response. "Asako. Please make sure someone monitors the punch bowl. I don't want my actors getting tipsy just before the finale."

"Of course. I'll get one of the free Hassans to… Uh…" she trailed off as she stared at the punch bowl, then the playwright. "Shakespeare…? What are you doing?"

Lifting the ladle up, he stared it and nodded. Shakespeare then poured some of the punch into a glass. He swirled the drink slightly, put the ladle back, and lifted the glass to Hundred Face in a show of cheers. His expression remained humorlessly blank as he shrugged. "…Partaking in an early drink."

"…May I ask why?"

Shakespeare shrugged again and let out an exasperated sigh. "The way things ought to be heading…I believe I'm going to need it to stomach the finale…"

He threw his head back and downed the first of a few drinks to calm his nerves.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ XII ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

Strangely, there had been no mishaps during any of the final setup scenes. The finale had finally arrived, and it made Shakespeare even more nervous; The sudden calmness in the preceding scenes almost guaranteed a storm was about to hit. This was the critical moment of any tragedy, where the end was met with emotional tears and heartbreak. If laughter were to consume the audience, his play would ultimately be seen as a failure.

Previous incidents might be plausibly passed off as dark comedy, but not the finale.

He watched as the tragic scene was set, with a hand unconsciously covering his mouth as he attempted to placate his stressed state. In these final moments, Liliana was now seen as a criminal for helping the wanted Vittorio escape. They ran for the docks on a cloudy, dreary morning, pursued by soldiers until they tried to hide in the gardens. Liliana just finished a monologue to convince Vittorio not to surrender himself for her sake; She would not live through the guilt.

Though the guards were all gone as they tried to escape, a sword-wielding Ignazio stumbled upon them.

Phantom stared sympathetically, yet sternly, towards the surprised pair. "…You're lucky I'm the one who found you, Vittorio."

"Ignazio! Oh thank goodness, you have to help! Vittorio's been framed!" Mata Hari exclaimed as she ran up to him. "Please! You have to help us!"

"…And why would I help a felon who's betrayed me?" Phantom asked coldly as Mata Hari froze. Thunder roared overheard on the cue to signify a distant storm. He stared past her at Arash, who remained where he was. The archer had a bandage wrapped around his right wrist from an earlier struggle, and he gripped his rapier in the weaker hand. "He doesn't appear as a hero anymore… Just a lowly spy. Are you certain you weren't made a fool, Liliana?"

"I'm no spy! They have the wrong idea!" Arash yelled, but winced and grabbed his wrist. "Ignazio…! I've done you wrong! I know what I did offends you, but you must beli-!"

"Don't tell me what I must do, Vittorio!" Phantom snapped back as he took a step towards him. Mata Hari jumped in the way, and Phantom's eyes flashed with pain. "…Why!? Why do you still defend this criminal!? Do you not know what he's done!?"

"He hasn't done a thing! He's not the culprit!" Mata Hari challenged as she kept her arms spread wide like a makeshift wall.

Shakespeare was so engrossed in the scene, and worried over what might be hampered, that he nearly missed the tapping on his shoulder. He turned to see Helena's relieved and pleased smile. She nodded to him, "You can rest easy, Will. We've found the culprits. Care to see them for yourself?"

Suddenly the scene became a lot less interesting to him.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ XIII ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

"… Lord, what fools these mortals be…" Shakespeare recited with narrowed eyes.

They were up in the rafters as Arash and Phantom began their sword fight below. Among dozens of lights and special effect props, catwalks crisscrossed the dark ceiling of the theater, both backstage and above it. It was hotter thanks to the active lights, but not unbearably so for any of the operating Hundred Face identities. They moved about, focused on their tasks even as the backstage mystery finally came to a close on the central catwalk.

A grief-stricken and helpless Mata Hari cried on the sidelines below, but Shakespeare's gaze remained locked on the tied-up Nobunaga and Mephistopheles, who sat back to back in their restraints. Helena's spell-forged ropes were taut, and restricted any form of plausible escape; It was a powerful lockdown spell developed after drawing inspiration from the Chains of Heaven. It held the two battle-clad servants well.

Shakespeare glared at the concealment capes sandwiched between their backs as one of the currently jobless, lanky Hassans motioned towards unused lights that hung further away. "We found Nobunaga hiding among the rafters, playing with one of them. It was some sort of bomb."

"Mephistopheles tried to stop us, but we had numbers," another Hassan admitted behind him and Helena.

As he stared at the offenders, the playwright huffed. "I shall concede this… Your pranks lacked their usual crass. Why the consideration?"

"Them? Make so many well-placed schemes?" At the sound of a third voice, a servant materialized on the catwalks, making a few Hassans gasp. Shakespeare's eyes narrowed as Merlin came into view, wearing his own concealment cape over his glowing, white battle attire. Thankfully, they were behind the top curtains, so the famed mage's glowing wardrobe wouldn't attract attention. "You know they couldn't do so many eloquent pranks alone."

Mephistopheles and Nobunaga glared at Merlin. The warlord huffed, "Are you forgetting who I am!? I didn't bring the Imagawa to their knees with a simple plan!"

Merlin merely waved her off, and met Shakespeare's incredulous gaze as he asked, "Is there a reason a fellow countryman sought to sabotage my work?"

"Just a whim, and a test of my little alliance with these pranksters," he admitted freely with a wave of his hand, and an irritating smile. Shakespeare wanted to wipe that grin off his face, but he knew there weren't many in Chaldea who could manage that against the mighty Arthurian legend; He definitely couldn't. "Relax… I wished to make the pranks interesting, but not destroy your play. That's why I removed the invisibility enchantment I gave these two… They crossed the line too many times. At least Angra played nice."

"The ice bucket and the punch?" Helena asked, and Merlin quickly nodded his head.

"That was not part of my plans… only clever, tasteful additions that were timed with the script," the magus noted with a proud smirk. He gazed at the glowering Shakespeare, but offered a reassuring grin. "Relax, Shakespeare… There are no more planned! Your ending will go as scheduled!"

"…Arturia spoke highly of your deceptive ways." Shakespeare scoffed. Truth be told, Shakespeare was just as playfully deceptive when the need arises. That's why he usually got along really well with Merlin… and perhaps why he was so blind as to think that would make him immune to the man's pranks. He'd gone months without being a target, yet now he had been betrayed. He felt like an actor in one of his tragedies.

He pointed towards the lights without a hint of his usual, lively attitude. "And the lights? I was told there was some sort of bomb involved?"

"Ah! I had them replace some unused ones with confetti bombs for the curtain call!" Merlin grinned happily, and Shakespeare's expression lost its sharpness. "You see, I felt a little bad for doing it to your play, but I ran out of friendly targets! After everything I put the knights through, I can't bring myself to prank them again… Joking, surely, but not my crazier pranks! So! As slight recompense, we made confetti bombs to rain cheer as celebration!"

He hadn't expected that much from the fellow caster. Over the rare early-morning conversations they had at the library, he'd gotten to know Merlin a fair bit. They'd talk like eccentric friends, or so Medusa and Helena often described it. This was the first time he actually got angry at him, and for good reason; He used one of his plays as a hotbed for pranks, no matter how well-timed. Confetti was barely a bandage on the irritation…

…but at the very least, his tragedy's ending would have its full impact. Shakespeare, at a loss of how to feel, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "…You promise nothing bad is going to happen to my ending?"

"For the sake of our budding friendship and fun chatter? Yes, I can absolutely promise that!" Merlin reassured with a fair nod and a genuine smile. He motioned to the stage below as Phantom, using dirty tactics, finally gained an edge over Arash. Thunder clapped, and a fake, illusionary rain began that heralded the tragic end. "As planned, your three leads shall meet their end before the Captain arrives."

Shakespeare stared down with growing relief at the scene. Ignazio will lunge at Vittorio, but Liliana will leap in the way to stop him. She will take the hit, and an enraged Vittorio will kill his former best friend before falling into despair for what transpired. As he crumpled to the ground in horror, the glory-hungry second-in-command would find him and execute the fallen war hero in front of his troops; It would be clear to them he had killed more innocents in a murderous rampage.

Obviously there would be his usual, beloved dialogue as it happened, but that was the gist of it: Love brings the three of them to their deaths, but who was right, and who was wrong in the end?

In the newfound, comfortable silence, his smile grew as Merlin and Helena joined him at the catwalk's rail. Phantom finally disarmed Arash and kicked him to the ground. Soon he'd start his last monologue about love and betrayal, which would Segway into… into… Shakespeare's eyes narrowed. Without the clashing of blade's below, he finally heard it: There were ticking sounds coming from somewhere nearby. Merlin and Helena looked to him, equally confused as they turned around.

Some of the lights were definitely ticking, and Mephistopheles looked to Merlin and smiled deviously. "…It'd be a real shame if one of these bombs went off early."

"You didn't pull the spell off us early enough, fluffy caster!" Nobunaga cackled.

Merlin paled, but Shakespeare was faster than lightning. Swiftly yet silently, he tuned out every sound except for the nearest offending noise. As his olive cape flapped like a flag, the playwright ran and maneuvered between any lightning crew. He bee-lined towards the false light that hung with a cluster above the stage, but it was out of reach! The closest Hassan was too focused operating a nearby spotlight, but glanced up as an anxious Shakespeare stopped beside him to eye the ticking device.

He glanced back to Helena and Merlin, but they had gone to two other lights to diffuse them. A barrier formed around one by Helena, and he should ask the same for this… but if he yelled, the crowd would hear! With his play at stake, he acted quickly and on impulse. He took his cape off his arm and scrambled over the catwalk's safety rails. The surprised Hassan kept the spotlight focused on Phantom, but gawked.

Shakespeare, with one arm grasping the rail, leaned out and covered the offending cluster of three lights; He didn't know which light it was, so he had to cover them all! The cape fell over them, and just in the nick of time. The three bombs detonated, though the ones within the barrier were completely silenced.

He breathed in relief as a Hassan operating the thunder sheet rumbled the device to help mask the sound. The adjacent lights sparked and flickered, but that could be passed off as lightning. Even though he cursed at the tiny bits of confetti that leaked out from the cape's gap, it appeared he nearly completely suppressed the bomb.

"The rain should hide those little bits…" the nearby Hassan noted, and Shakespeare let out a long breath of relief. It didn't last long. "Uhh… Is your cape fireproof?"

Before he could ask, he blanched in horror. The sparks! He'd been so concerned about the confetti that he hadn't considered the situation well enough! Though one was fake, he just threw his linen cloth onto two heated lights and trapped what was essentially tinder beneath it! Coupled with the sparks-

Shakespeare turned back to his beloved cape, which was quickly engulfed in flames. He panicked, but acted swiftly as he sent the telepathic message. "Asako! Fire! Hurry! Dim the lights and disconnect cluster 3!"

Thankfully, he had the best crew he could have hoped for. Barely a second later, thanks to the lead identity's swift speed, the lights that flooded the stage slowly dimmed. At the same time, the offending cluster was shut off. A Hassan ran over with a fire extinguisher as Helena coordinated efforts telepathically. Although his leads continued their verbal and physical battle below, they were clearly unaware another battle raged above.

As the thunder sheet roared louder at her command, Helena signaled for the Hassan to douse the fire. Shakespeare clung to the rail as the fire extinguisher roared to life, dousing his fiery cape and ending the threat, but the playwright could not breathe easy. His heart hammered as he eyed the blinking smoke detector, but Helena had suppressed it with a bounded field. The noise from it wouldn't penetrate the field… but it would still activate the localized sprinkler system.

Helena and Merlin were swift to respond. As fast as they could manage, they disabled the specialized sprinkler systems for the rafters; They worked similarly like fire extinguishers due to the lighting. Unfortunately, there was a tradeoff, which caused Shakespeare's heart to sink into a sea of despair. By focusing on the specialized sprinklers, the actual water sprinklers hung beneath the catwalks, out of sight, were free to turn on.

Shakespeare stared down at his actors as the heavens opened up.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ XIV ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

"Kyu, kyu?" "Wow! They're going all out on this finale!" "Actual rain for added effect! That's brilliant!" "Trust Shakespeare to put on a good show!"

Even as the lead actors were doused with an actual downpour, the audience didn't seem concerned. Arash, Phantom, and Mata Hari hid their surprise well, and stayed in character. Thunder clapped above, and the lights flickered in turn, but Phantom kept his glare aimed at Arash as he scrambled backwards on the ground. "Ignazio! Stay your hand! If I am to be executed, let it be by the court!"

Blinded by betrayal, vengeance, and lost love, Phantom's character was already lost to madness. He wouldn't think straight. It was a moral lesson crafted by Shakespeare about the tragic consequences for the extremes of human emotion. Phantom laughed almost maniacally and strode towards him faster. He raised his blade up high as Mata Hari screamed. "Ignazio, stop! I beg you! You'll never forgive yourself!"

Since her words fell on deaf ears, Mata Hari ran towards them… but the polished wood stage was now really, really slippery. Combined with the special shoes, the woman quickly lost her footing. She stumbled towards them and yelped, which caused Arash and Phantom to momentarily break character to stare at her in surprise. In her failed attempt to right herself, she fell onto Arash instead of body blocking for him.

Phantom stared in outright shock as Mata Hari and Arash's lips crashed together. The crowd murmured and wooed as Arash and Mata Hari's dumbfounded shock faded away. They pulled away for only a brief moment, but quickly closed their eyes and deepened the kiss. They didn't break away, nor did Phantom's sword come down as it should have. The supporting leads merely kissed passionately as Phantom's expression shifted between surprise and theatrical outrage.

The lead actor was clearly at a temporary loss, but he covered it well as the kiss lasted much longer than anyone could have anticipated; It clearly was more than just acting.

Slowly, his sword arm lowered as the two finally broke apart. Another thunder clap echoed from above, but the two held each other gingerly before they gradually snapped from their reverie. Phantom remained in character, making troubled gestures and pacing to draw attention back to him. It bought the pair time to refocus and stare in concern at their potential attacker.

Phantom stared at them as the sprinkler systems slowly faded, but the illusionary downpour increased to mask its absence. His expression had fallen from disturbed to dismayed. Shakespeare watched from above, confused at how his lead actor was going to manage to get this back on track; Mata Hari needed to die first, but she was now clearly in Arash's arms! How would his friend manage to improvise the newfound event without it seeming contrived?

Whatever he chose to do, Shakespeare believed in him.

"I… I am wreathed with pain! Angered that you would dare commit such an act before my own eyes!" Phantom roared, but his expression couldn't take on the anger from before. Instead, to Shakespeare's growing dismay, he looked defeated. The sword fell from his grasp and clattered to the ground beside him. "…But… alas… I see now… What you have for each other may not be mistaken... and nothing I scheme shall ever steal that…"

"…Ignazio…" Mata Hari mumbled, but Phantom quickly shook his head. And let out an estranged cry.

"No… Say no more! You've shown me enough!" he countered as turned away from them. The clattering of footsteps and armor heralded the arrival of the second-in-command and his troops, who were also soaked thanks to the sprinklers. There must have been serious confusion backstage. Shakespeare groaned into his hands, because they came on the correct, but mistaken cue: Phantom's pained yell.

"What's going on here!?" the employee yelled, but Shakespeare wasn't quite sure if it was in character or not.

Phantom, surprised and at a sudden loss, looked between the newly arrived officer and the acting couple still on the ground. Silence fell over the stage in confusion that thankfully felt like theatrical tension. He glanced back as the employee approached, and then made Shakespeare's mouth drop wide open. Phantom dropped to his knees, grabbed the fallen rapier, and charged at the employee. Mata Hari gasped as the shocked officer was quickly impaled in a mock fashion.

The employee gasped in disbelief and stared at Phantom in total shock. "What…!? What are you doing!?"

"Sorry about this... please go with it…" Phantom whispered before he glared into the eyes of the employee. "I'm making things right!"

He withdrew the sword, and the employee crumpled to his feet as the accompanying soldiers looked at each other in surprise. Mata Hari gawked, and nearly stumbled with his words, "Er-! Ignazio! What is the meaning of this!?"

"Liliana! If one loves truly, then the heart will smile through whatever pain it suffers… just to see that joyous smile! I …have made a grave mistake in my rage… but I correct it here!" he declared as the soldiers turned to each other. In mutual agreement, they drew their swords and slowly approached Phantom. "Vittorio! Take her and run away from here! Make her happy in my place… or I will haunt you till the ends of time! Go before my heart changes its tune once more!"

Shakespeare stared in dumbfounded distress as his play quickly fell to pieces… and by his trusted friend no less!

The betrayal! The outright betrayal was so painful it raked at his heart! This raw emotion made his heart beat with pain, but he could not tear his eyes from the train wreck. The playwright could only cover his mouth and whimper as Mata Hari quickly helped Arash to his feet. He didn't even bother listening to the parting dialogue as Arash and Mata Hari scrambled out of the gardens, hand in hand.

Phantom was left alone against five soldiers. The employee on the wet stage watched on in total shock, though the audience couldn't see. Even Phantom looked at a loss of where to go next, but he masked it as uncertainty for his odds well; His improvisation acting was marvelous, yet it destroyed the playwright's ending! The soldiers closed in, and Phantom gripped his rapier uncertainl-

"Stay thy blades, soldiers!" The men looked behind them as the soggy D'Eon entered the stage. Shakespeare groaned into his hands as the saber marched past his troops and towards Phantom, but his own sword remained sheathed. He glanced down at the fallen employee and nodded before turning back to his troops. "Ignazio is no criminal, nor is our people's hero, Vittorio! The latter has been framed… by this man!"

To Shakespeare's horror, but Helena's amused giggles, D'Eon didn't point to Phantom. With his hand motioned toward the acting-dead employee, the saber smiled towards Ignazio. "There has been a grave misunderstanding, but corruption rested higher than anticipated! To think my trusted second was a Turkish Spy who attempted to sow discord in fair Venice! His crimes end today, thanks to you, Ignazio!"

This… this didn't even deserve words! Shakespeare stared in total incredulity as the two reached an improvised conclusion, and shook hands at center stage above the fallen employee. Though he was at a loss of words, Helena couldn't help giggling nearby. "This feels like the ending of Casablanca!"

Though he was too stunned and heartbroken for words, Helena and Hundred Face clearly rallied the crews to act appropriately. Spotlights grew in intensity to mimic a sun coming out of the clouds. The two actors finished their improvised conversation, and slowly walked deeper into the staged garden, away from the audience.

The main red curtains slowly closed behind them as the lights finally faded, plunging Shakespeare into darkness as he stared at the stage in doubt. A happy ending, done with what looked like Deus Ex Machina to boot... and his chosen lead had been the perpetrators.

Hans would never let him live this down! He was in a total stupor at the outright betrayal as Helena rubbed his shoulder. "Come on, Will. I don't think the ending was that bad. Neither did the audience! Listen to them!"

He glanced up as the dim catwalk lights came on and the crew cleared the stage for the curtain call. Though distressed at what transpired, he heard it. The loud applause and cheers from the audience. It was genuine, and not some forged mockery like a consolation prize. It confused him greatly, but at the same time it filled him with growing relief.

Chaldea genuinely enjoyed it.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ XV ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

Shakespeare watched on the sidelines as one by one, the cast made their way onto the stage to give their bows. He looked in bewilderment, relief, and lingering despair as his remaining actors, obviously still soaked, quickly filled the stage. They took their turns bowing to the already standing ovation, which was the sight that reignited his hopes and happiness. Finally, it came to the main actors, and he finally managed to clap instead of staring. D'Eon and the employee bowed to the audience and carefully backed up on the stage to allow the leads to come on.

Mata Hari and Arash ran towards the center spotlights, holding each other's hand as the crowd roared with cheers and woos. They stood at center stage, laughing brightly and bowed. Before they could back up, Marie's loud cheering yelled over the audience. "Kiss him again, Masie!"

"Kiss him, mama!" That was no doubt Paul's happy yell.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" a chant slowly grew among the standing crowd, though it was mostly women at first. By the time the children happily joined in, the two had smiled at each other, shrugged, and quickly leaned in for a brief kiss. They laughed as excited whistles echoed from the audience, but they stepped back to allow the main lead to take the stage.

Phantom walked onto the stage, but slowed his pace as the cheers doubled for him.

The astonished assassin looked around with a growing, bright smile as he reached center stage. He unconsciously raised a hand to his heart as a few in the audience threw roses onto the stage. He managed to pluck one from the air as it was thrown, and he held it to his face in surprise. A soft smile grew on his face, coupled with glistening eyes. Though the tears didn't form, he chuckled happily.

Shakespeare found himself grinning, mostly for his friend, who now wore one of the brightest smiles possible as he waved and bowed to the roaring crowd. However, he sent an apologetic glance to the playwright, and then motioned to him with his hand. The rest of the on-stage cast quickly followed suit, and before he could do anything, Helena pushed the eccentric caster towards center stage so a spotlight could quickly lock onto him.

"Get out there and soak in that praise, William!" Helena yelled happily as she clapped.

Stumped, Shakespeare strolled towards center stage. Uncertainty and dismay quickly faded as the sounds of the crowd, now cheering for him, blotted any negativity out. His pride swelled, and his steps became more confident. His signature grin quickly stormed onto his expression, and he laughed happily as he waved to the audience that now began chanting his name. The roses were thrown again, but he merely stood at center stage and glanced about happily.

Some confetti bombs exploded overhead, and the vibrant specks floated down; He felt like a winner, more than he ever had.

Was this how some modern playwrights were rewarded after every performance? This was wonderful! Truly worth for the great William Shakespeare! He grinned and waved, basking in the glory of a finished play. Though it didn't end the way he wished… and though he thought the results were a tragedy made for him… he now saw how wrong he was. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and they clearly loved his play regardless.

"Thank you! Thank you!" Shakespeare cheered among the applause he loved so much.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ XVI ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

Shakespeare actually felt relaxed after all that chaos. Cleanup and drying of the stage was being handled by the robots. Merlin, after a surprisingly sincere apology, was helping Okita pick out the punishments for Nobunaga and Mephistopheles. With no other unfortunate matters to attend to, Shakespeare was free to enjoy the pre-dinner after party for his production.

Still dressed in his battle attire, though with a newly re-manifested cape, he sipped on his refreshing, tropical drink. He stood on the boardwalk, though close enough to the railing to look over the beach. Several servants and employees set up small picnic spots while the vast majority mingled with his cast and crew on the boardwalk. A flock of seagulls flew overhead, and a light breeze blew past as he wondered who the next person would be to congratulate him on his accomplishment.

There was nothing quite like basking in the afterglow of a production, even if it could have gone much smoother; He'd still call it a lesser masterpiece, because he was the one who penned it, after all. The masters had complimented him, as had the clothing department after he thanked them again for their assistance. Even Gilgamesh and Ozymandias gave small amused smirks, though sadly not much more. Perhaps he should ask for their real opinion, but not before he talked with his friend Sanson abou-

"Not quite the tragedy I've come to expect from you, Caster."

That calm yet amused tone brought a quick smile to the playwright's face; He didn't even need to turn around to know who approached. "Amakusa! I was wondering whe-"

Shakespeare turned around and froze with growing exasperation. Amakusa stood in a black formal suit, but it wasn't the smiling priest that locked him up. He was accompanied by Hans, who snickered at him in his little blue suit. The deep-voiced caster chuckled, "Yes, Shakespeare… quite the contrived ending you chose to showcase. For Ignazio to be snapped out of his madness so quickly… What was your inspiration for that redeeming moment?"

"Perhaps he also had a change of heart," Amakusa teased, which made Hans nod his head theatrically.

"Ah! I see! The work reflects the heart of the writer indeed!" the small caster snickered as he turned back to Shakespeare. "Still, would that warrant such an abrupt ending? I expected more, but I suppose all the comedic moments beforehand helped lighten the impact, but it remained a touch too jarring. What made you decide to mix comedy and tragedy to such an extent?"

He tried to get a word in, but Amakusa spoke first. "I think some worked fairly well. I liked little Yedda's cameo."

"The pants-less fight could have been concluded better," Hans noted with a growing smirk. "I feel as though the joke was… forced into the wrong spot?"

Shakespeare groaned, and his two companions laughed at his expense. He knew it would be coming sooner or later, but that didn't make preparations any easier. Shakespeare shook his head as Hans waved it off. "Take a the few ribs… I know those weren't supposed to be there."

Of course he did; Hans was the proofreader! Shakespeare sighed, "It would have gone smoother had Merlin not acted. My cast and crew were commendable!"

"To be fair, Shakespeare, you shouldn't have expected everything would go according to plan," Amakusa noted with an apologetic smile. "This is Chaldea, after all."

Those words were a little tragic and poetic coming from him, to be honest. He wasn't going to point it out; Shakespeare was the one to inform the ruler just what happened after the end. He hadn't taken it well… and he would admit he was to blame for Amakusa's attempt at a grail. It had been yet another of his little workings, if only to see if a sequel could be written for the ruler.

That project had long since been closed, however. Their friendship grew stronger instead, but Shakespeare had shifted all his efforts onto the real story of Humanity's survival. Amakusa's near betrayal would just be another poetic side story to supplement the real one. He still wondered if the former master still had any secret schemes or ideas, but if he did, he hid them well behind genuine dedication to his promise to the masters.

Shakespeare smiled at his white-haired friend and shrugged. "I concede so… I shall keep it in mind for my next masterpiece!"

"Why not a true comedy then? A return to your roots?" Amakusa suggested with a smile.

"At least the laughs won't ruin the mood then," Hans added with a tiny smirk. Nearby mingling residents curiously gave their group a little more room, but he barely noticed.

He dared to say that idea actually sounded fair. He'd been so obsessed with tragedies that it practically drove him to contrive events. He was known for much more than the big dramas, for his name even held histories under its fame. If he wrote a tragedy now, and a history for Chaldea's future success, then a comedy would make a nice addition. He chuckled, "So it shall be! A new comedy for the ages!"

"Just hope that writing wall is easier to climb this time around," Hans pointed out, which made Shakespeare shake his head while Amakusa chuckled. "But I presume that will be months from now… Until then, we have a true history about servants that has suffered from neglect."

"In between my own rendition of the real bestseller," Shakespeare reminded. "Thanks to the depth of this dramatic story, this will be my longest work yet!"

"Will it be sold alongside my portrayal?" Amakusa jested. Though Shakespeare noticed the ruler's eyes look behind him on occasion, and not at him, he ignored it. He merely nodded proudly and summoned a book to his hand. He was very pleased that his memory was great, otherwise rewriting the entire countenance would have been a nightmare; That didn't stop him from taking creative liberties, of course. It must be dramatic and compelling!

He waved the book happily before dematerializing it. "Of course! I, the great William Shakespeare, don't plan to stop at one new work, you know! I'm a famed writer, and the world shall be graced by more of my words! They will be happy my pen still writ-"

Shakespeare yelled in shock as ice cold water was dumped over him. Amakusa and Hans barely controlled their laughter as the soaked playwright turned around in shock. There, his three leads stood with amused grins as they placed down an empty barrel. Phantom had dressed into one of his favorite black tuxedos, but Mata Hari opted for a far less formal yellow sundress. Arash followed her lead with a teal Hawaiian shirt and white board shorts.

"Sorry, Shakespeare, but you're one of the only ones who didn't get wet!" Arash exclaimed with a chuckle.

The crowd laughed and clapped around them as Shakespeare found a new sly smile, and aimed it at Phantom. "Erik… you've betrayed me twice this day."

He had been very apologetic after the curtain call, but Shakespeare merely waved it off. He was content, and he had grown very, very impressed at Phantom's control as an actor and improvisation ability; He'd definitely be a lead again. With how much the crowd loved the rather rough ending, he couldn't bring himself to even hold a grudge for his friend. All was even, and he'd leave it as water under the bridge.

Still, Phantom bowed again. "Forgive me, Will... I just got caught up in all the excitement again."

"Good, good! As it should be!" the playwright laughed with encouragement. "I'm only upset Helena didn't receive the same treatment!"

"Is that what you think?" Mata Hari asked, and he turned to her. He found his smile grow a little bigger upon seeing how close she stood to Arash, and the archer's own hand gently holding hers; There was no doubt Paul might be getting an adopted dad soon. He liked to believe he, or his play, had a played a fateful hand in that little revelation… even if most in Chaldea suspected it was only a matter of time. The happy assassin stared out towards the beach. "She should be getting hers right about now."

Shakespeare turned to the beach and grinned as an army of Hassan identities, all of which were armed with water guns, chased after a panicking Helena. She was barely getting away, even if she abandoned her heels already. Obviously the assassins could have closed the distance on the caster, but it was obvious they were enjoying every second of the hunt. Even as many laughed, he could hear Tesla and Edison's mirth bellow over the crowd.

The ringing of a ship's bell heralded the salvation of many hungry stomachs. Kiyohime's voice called out, "Dinner is ready, everyone~!"

Though he was now thoroughly soaked, Shakespeare looked around happily. This was not quite how he pictured this day to go, but he had come to terms with the events. It could have been far worse, but his prestige remained thoroughly intact. Even though he wished for tragedy, there had been a unique outcome, one which even he could accept as he eyed the newly formed couple. Though there was poetry in human struggle, he had been reminded, yet again, that happier tales could be just as captivating.

With such a vibrant cast, Shakespeare genuinely looked forward to witnessing the happy ending to humanity's dark tale.