Of Thorns and Teeth | Book 1 of The Fall

Deleted Scene: A Disastrous Play

Rud hurried out the University theater, exiting through one of its back entrances, and out into the University Square. Eidie Salante traipsed a few steps behind, still with the ridiculous-looking green wig on, drawing stares with the sheer white gown that revealed too much flesh than Rud had intended.

"That was a disaster," grumbled Rud.

"That was a disaster."

"Well, on the bright side, that play is never going to see the living light of day. How much worse that might have turned out to be if Fate had allowed it."

"If it makes you feel any better...I thought I saw a smile light up Lord Eldrin's face back there."

"Knowing him, that's not necessarily a good sign." He swiped the wig off Eidie's head, and stuffed it into his satchel.

Noticing his evident displeasure, Eidie laughed. "So I've insulted Lady Brightstar's memory with that tarty wig. It's not as if she's coming back from the dead to knife me in the guts."

"She was Eldan, so that's not entirely impossible," spoke Yrian as he caught up to them. "Highly unlikely, but possible."

"Glad you could join us here, darling," Eidie said, taking him by the arm. "How did I do? Did you watch it all?"

"From beginning to the end. Though, in hindsight, the play might have worked better as a satire or as a farce. If you're willing to defy historical accuracy—"

"—Not to mention all the vaguely political underpinnings you've peppered the script with," added Eidie.

"Enough!" Rud threw his hands up as he marched off. "Bah! I don't need either of you! Get out of my sight!"

If you wanted a story told. The fastest way is to promote it through a play. One morn, and perhaps even the Emperor himself might request your audience.

"Well, so much for that dream then," Rud said, kicking a stone across the paved path. Lara Brightstar-Moor had committed herself to documenting the plight of her people, thus producing The Seven Sorrows, which would go on to be one of the most important Eldan texts in recent history. Rud had intended to do her and her family a great honor by compiling her aforementioned work into a two-hour play of his own making, though such an undertaking may have been a tad too ambitious for an eighteen-year-old boy to have even considered. Mister Moor himself had not been averse to the idea, but his lack of preparation (not to mention soliciting an underground actor's troupe from the seedier parts of Daroa) almost but guaranteed the failure of even the first viewing.

The following day, Rud proceeded then into the classroom for his Alchymistry lesson, where only a few students were in sight. Most of them were furiously leafing through their textbooks, while others were setting up the burners, and mixing powders to be used later on. Rud set his things down upon his desk, his eyelids heavy and his neck aching, all due to his sleep-deprived state. Yesterday's disaster still haunted him, to the point which only their words spun around in his head and never left.

Sensationalist droll. A complete insult to Ingahnar's kin, and to the Eldan race itself. Using the Brightstars to further a specific political agenda.

And so on, and so forth.

Mister Moor had kept his silence all throughout, behaving cordially even throughout the heated arguments, and the audience's general displeasure. Rud had not known at all how to interpret his actions, and perhaps one day he may be able to confront the man and apologize for such a terrible decision.

Once I regain my dignity, and prove myself worthy at last, he thought.

He reached into his satchel, rummaging for the finished script, just in time as Yrian took the seat beside him.

"Perchance, have you read the book?" Rud asked. "I'm just curious."

"I have. My mother owns a copy."

"Lara Brightstar was kind enough to give me an unfinished one. I should have consulted her first."

"Well, that's over and done with," Yrian said. "You could opt to try for a less divisive subject, but where's the interest in that? The Empire is rife with injustice—all hidden under the surface—and it's up to a brave few to steer its course away from inevitable ruin."

"Ahhh, repeating my words, are you?"

"Immortalized in the journals of Taloth Helverc, if you must know."

"I should have asked the good professor to give me his due credit. Perhaps he can vouch for me if I need him to." Putting on his flamecloth gloves, Rud turned the burner crank further up to light up a stronger flame. Taking the first sheet, he set out to dip it into the fire.

Yrian narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Destroying all evidence of this thing."

Yrian snatched the paper out of his hand. "You really don't want to do that."

"I've been meaning to, since yesterday."

"Keep it," insisted Yrian. "It could prove to be useful, one day."

Rud withdrew his hand away. He stowed the papers away and back into his satchel. Gods know, he thought, reconsidering once more. He could be right. 

A/N: Pretty short A/N here, since I'm in a bit of a hurry, lol. This is another deleted scene, featuring Rud this time. Hope you guys like it. :)

Dedicated to: writingsomethingmt

Music: "Prelude" by Brian McBride