Chapter 18
Chapter 18
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Exodus at the Iron Wall Fortress
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Whoosh-!!
The Northern Iron Wall Fortress, where biting winds like knives scrape against the skin.
The Saintess and Phantom's group had arrived at this place, eternally blanketed in snow and frost.
They came fully prepared to stage the play Exodus, produced in collaboration with the church choir and its members.
"Welcome, Your Holiness!"
The moment he spotted Saintess Beatrice, the officer snapped a crisp salute.
He quickly scanned Phantom and the theater troupe members, then reported in a reverent tone.
"We've assembled all the off-duty Holy Knights in the fortress training grounds for today! They're all eagerly counting down the moments until the show begins!"
"Well done, Captain. Please guide our guests."
"Yes, ma'am!"
With an energetic reply, the officer led us toward the training grounds.
It was a vast open space where the training equipment had been temporarily dismantled to make way for the stage, all set up for today's performance.
"Alright, everyone, take your seats! As announced beforehand, Her Holiness the Saintess has prepared a special performance just for you all! Watch with gratitude for her love and the utmost reverence!"
The officer commanding the Holy Knights, assembled in perfect ranks despite the harsh conditions.
Even in this freezing, grueling environment, every one of them maintained impeccable discipline—a truly impressive sight.
"……"
"……"
Yet in stark contrast, not a single cheer rose from the Holy Knights.
Deep weariness and exhaustion shadowed their grim expressions.
The kind of burdens and fatigue that even a visit from one Saintess and a single morale-boosting show couldn't dispel.
"……The Iron Wall Fortress was completed during Emperor Heinrich's reign, a bulwark built through the joint efforts of the Empire and the Church to halt the demon hordes."
The Saintess began softly, her breath forming white clouds in the frigid air.
Her pale cheeks flushed apple-red against the unrelenting cold.
Standing a bit apart from the actors on stage, the choir, and the audience of Holy Knights, she spoke quietly with Phantom.
"Life here is always under threat, and the surrounding environment is an extreme battlefield. The Holy Knights, devoted to the faith, defend it solely on their convictions."
"……"
"Do you understand what that means, Phantom?"
Her eyelids, framed by beautifully curled silver lashes, narrowed as she gazed at him intently.
She added,
"If the Exodus performance fails, we all might pay a heavy price—you, me, and even the subjects living safe and happy lives in the warm south."
Even a natural bastion requires human will to sustain it.
Though nations sharing the faith provide support, it's never quite enough on its own.
Without the unwavering resolve of those guarding the walls, everything would inevitably crumble.
Yet Phantom's response remained steadfast.
"Have no fear, Saintess. I swear there will be no failure."
His brazen, unshakeable confidence was on full display.
He clearly took great pride in the quality of Exodus.
"Ufufu, I see."
The Saintess let out an innocent, girlish laugh without thinking.
"Very well. I'll look forward to it, Phantom. Let's see if your genius shines once more."
"You flatter me."
The playwright responded with feigned humility.
But Beatrice's words were far from empty flattery.
'Words are a clear window into the soul, Phantom.'
Her eyes narrowed subtly in secret.
She murmured inwardly, her pale, lightless pupils shifting.
'Through this performance, I want to find out. What meaning lies within that peculiar soul of yours.'
His talent for churning out hit plays that shook the Empire could not be ignored.
Yet it was equally true that this great author possessed an unprecedentedly bizarre soul.
So, she wanted to confirm it firsthand now.
How well could he craft a religious play praising the divine?
What true color his soul would reveal through his work?
[This story is a mystical and holy record from long ago, in the pagan kingdom called Egypt.] With that opening narration from the actor, the curtain rose in earnest on Exodus.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The Christian Bible is divided into two main parts: the Old Testament and the New Testament.
The Old covers events before Christ's birth; the New, his life and deeds after.
And in the Old Testament, the most pivotal figure is none other than Moses.
Before Moses appears, the Hebrew people in the Bible are mere lowly slaves.
[Work, you lazy slaves!]
[Build pyramids for the great ruler and living god, Pharaoh!]
The Egyptian oppressors, worshippers of false pagan gods.
Under their rule, the Hebrews—who followed the one true God—suffered daily torments.
Whippings under the scorching sun while stacking massive pyramids was routine.
Forcing brutal construction of treasuries, obelisks, and Ramses' monuments.
And even, out of fear of rebellion, drowning all newborn Hebrew boys in the Nile.
[Aaaah, no! My baby!]
[Our child! Mercy, please! Kill me instead!]
[Filthy Hebrew slave wench! Get lost!]
[Throw this year's newborns to the crocodiles! It's the decree of Pharaoh, incarnation of mighty Horus!]
The Egyptian soldiers ruthlessly collected the prop cradles after their lines.
The Hebrew slaves faced the bolt-from-the-blue disaster of losing their beloved children overnight.
And as wails echoed across the entire slave village,
[Ah, Elohim! Our God! Where are You?]
The Hebrews tore at their chests in agony, calling out to the God who had abandoned them.
[Why do You ignore our suffering? Do You not hear Your people's cries?]
[The pain of the whip! The bitter salt of our sweat! Why leave us here?]
[Save us! Deliver us! Lead us to the beautiful land flowing with milk and honey!]
"……!"
Twitch, twitch! The Holy Knights, who had been utterly apathetic until now, began to stir slightly.
The blood-curdling cries of the Hebrews groaning under Egyptian oppression.
The lines mirroring their own plight struck a chord deep within.
And that was precisely the effect I had intended.
'Interpretations vary wildly depending on the audience's circumstances.'
This was perfectly proven by the absurdist play Waiting for Godot from the 1950s.
Waiting for Godot is simply about two men waiting for a man named Godot.
And that Godot never even appears on stage from beginning to end.
So when Samuel Beckett released this experimental play, the public was baffled.
To the average viewer, it was nothing but an obscure, bizarre flop.
But in November 1957, when it was performed at San Quentin State Prison in California, the 1,400 inmates wept and gave a standing ovation.
The prisoners, stripped of their 'freedom,' deeply understood the endless frustration of waiting for something.
And they knew all too well that even if 'Godot' appeared, it would likely be a massive letdown.
Meanwhile, the play pressed on relentlessly.
[I'm sorry, my baby. May God watch over you. I'll pray every day for your safety and happiness.]
Jochebed, Moses' birth mother, who had hidden and raised her infant son in secret.
Unable to evade the soldiers' pursuit any longer, she placed baby Moses in a reed basket and set him adrift on the Nile.
Hoping desperately for a miracle to spare his life.
And astonishingly, that miracle occurred.
An Egyptian princess, bathing nearby at just the right moment.
She discovered the drifting Moses, adopted him as her own, and raised him with utmost care.
[Oh my! What a cute little baby!]
Of course, the princess vaguely guessed the baby's origins.
Yet she took him in without hesitation.
Opposition to Pharaoh's cruel decree—slaughtering innocent newborns out of rebellion fears—was already widespread in Egypt.
[I name this child 'Moses' and will raise him as my son.]
[From this day, he is my son and a prince of Egypt.]
In this irony—Pharaoh's atrocities meant to crush slave revolts birthing their saviors instead—Moses grew up comfortably as Egyptian royalty.
But that easy life didn't last forever.
Watching his fellow Hebrews endure persecution and abuse, Moses burned with righteous fury.
In a fit of rage, he killed an overseer tormenting his kin and buried the body.
Facing his first murder, Moses panicked and fled into the night, fearing discovery.
Wandering the barren wilderness alone, he eventually connected with Jethro, priest of Midian, and settled properly among the nomads.
Thus, he spent a full 40 years herding sheep among them.
Living countless long years as a shepherd, escaping his painful reality.
[Moses, my Moses.]
One day, while searching far for a lost lamb.
Until he encountered a burning bush on the holy Mount Horeb.
[Who... who are You?]
[I am the God of your fathers. I have seen the misery of My people in Egypt and heard their cries.]
"Therefore, go as their savior. Lead My people out of Egypt." "M-me? Who am I to lead my kin from Egypt? I lack eloquence, and if they ask Your name, I have no answer. Send someone else!" "Moses, who made man's mouth? Who makes the mute, the deaf, the seeing, the blind? It is I!" ⟨ Divine Calling ⟩
Moses hesitated, unable to accept his role as savior of the Hebrews.
The Lord rebuked his foolishness and timidity with stern, poignant words.
But God did not merely chide Moses' burdens without cause.
[I will be your strength. I will be your voice and show proof that I have sent you.]
As the voice actor delivered the line, colorful lights bathed the stage in gentle hues.
The vibrant glow created the illusion of divine love enveloping the protagonist.
[Moses, lift your staff with both hands.]
[Through this staff, you will work My miracles...]
With God's final exhortation, the bush's flames slowly faded.
Moses finally realized what he had witnessed was no illusion.
Awakened to his destiny, Moses turned back.
Toward his suffering kin, enduring endlessly.
Back to the Egyptian kingdom where the Hebrews awaited.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Phantom? Is it really alright like this?"
During the intermission as Exodus paused for a break.
Watching the Holy Knights murmuring in their seats, the Saintess asked.
She bit her lip, her expression tinged with faint unease.
"I won't deny it's captivating. But you haven't forgotten the original goal, have you? What the Holy Knights need right now is..."
I knew exactly what concerned her.
We had succeeded in drawing them in with the gripping early acts.
Even now, they wore expressions of curiosity, eagerly awaiting the continuation.
However, honestly, Exodus up to this point was just an entertaining morale show—a mere diversion.
It hardly differed from typical isekai religious plays.
And it hadn't yet delivered the decisive blow to boost morale and reignite their faith.
Of course, only 'yet.'
"Have you heard the saying, 'the pen is mightier than the sword'?"
"No, first time."
The Saintess shook her head at my question.
I shrugged both shoulders and explained its meaning.
"A sword strikes one target at a time, but a pen wields the magic of 'influence' to strike countless at once. A well-crafted word can change the world faster and more surely than the sharpest blade."
"Hmm."
She stared at me with a somewhat puzzled look.
Probably wondering, 'Wouldn't a sword win in a direct fight?'
Naturally, it was just a metaphor.
As if a pen were literally Excalibur-stronger than a sword.
"Forgotten God's revelation to Moses?"
I grinned beneath my mask, playing it cool.
"God will be the voice and strength for the Holy Knights with His merciful love. So hold fast to your faith and see it through to the end. Feel Moses' resolve as he returns to the pagans' kingdom to save his people."
Speechless, the Saintess blinked her long-sightless eyes rapidly.
She looked like a dazed white rabbit—I wanted to pet her wildly.
Of course, that'd be blasphemy, so I won't actually do it.
"Ah, looks like the play's resuming."
Renua and the troupe actors returned to the stage, gathering props.
Behind them, the church choir prepared to sing in earnest.
Glancing at them, I said to the Saintess,
"Let's watch together. How Moses saves the Hebrews."