So, inspired by today’s Encyclopedia Realmgardica post about King Caelin, here’s Sir Sandford Whitehead’s theatrical masterpiece about King Caelin.
In case I haven’t made this clear by now, King Caelin is basically Realmgard’s King Arthur. His wife Catriona doesn’t have an immediate counterpart in actual Arthurian myth and I haven’t given much thought to fleshing her out, but she’s basically equal parts Guinevere, Merlin, and Morgan le Fay (or at least female Merlin) at this point.
Copyright
J.B. Norman
Kat isn’t sure how this keeps happening, but once again, she has been press-ganged into Sir Sandford Whitehead’s latest stage play.
The one slim, small silver lining is that at least this time, she isn’t being press-ganged into being a dude.
Which, of course, pales in comparison to the fact that she’s going to have to make out with Nolan Lyte.
Sir Sandford’s play is a retelling of the life and times of the legendary King Caelin of the Isles. Who famously fell in love with the sorceress Catriona. Who will be played by Kat — a piece of news not particularly well-received by Amara. Who would probably kill for the chance to kiss Nolan.
And, in fact, seems ready to…
With her arms folded over her chest and an intense look on her face, Amara stares across the stage at Kat.
Kat sighs. On the one hand, the things she does for her best friend. On the other hand, at least this why she doesn’t have to kiss a dude she barely knows.
“Oh,” Kat says, lowering herself to the ground and clutching her ankle. “My ankle. Oh no. I need it for, uh, acting. I think I, uh… ankled it when I was ankling my ankle. What a tragedy.”
“Didn’t you hear me?” Kat replies. “I ankled my ankle.”
“Oh,” Sir Sandford says. “How horrible. Pela, Tancred, help Kat backstage and make sure she keeps her ankle elevated.”
Seizing the opportunity, Amara sidles up to Sir Sandford and clears her throat.
“Ah, Miss Amara,” Sir Sandford says. “Wonderful timing.”
“I aim to please,” Amara answers.
“Miss Amara,” Sandford Whitehead says, turning to Amara. “I need you —”
“Yes?” Amara asks hopefully.
“— to go backstage and —“
“Yes?” Amara asks hopefully.
“— kindly please Miss Falcata that she’ll need to take over the role of the sorceress Catriona.”
“What?” Amara cries.
“Whatever is the matter, Miss Amara?” Sandford asks.
“Ahem,” Amara causes bashfully. “That is to say, wouldn’t it be infinitely simpler and easier if I just took over the role of Catriona?”
“Hmm,” Sir Sandford says thoughtfully. “Yes, I supposed that would do. You are the next tallest person available. And, yes, I do suppose Miss Falcata is admittedly irreplaceable when it comes to hauling things and lifting things down from high places. Very well, Miss Amara, you shall be my Catriona!”
“I humbly accept,” Amara says. “I shall selflessly and magnanimously take up this role for the good of theatre in Porthaven and to not extent for my own ends.”
Kat roles her eyes. Amara isn’t exactly making a great show of her acting skills…
“Sir Sandford,” Amara ventures, “I propose that we rehearse the kissing scene. Repeatedly and in meticulous detail.”
In the corner of the stage area, still pretending to have a hurt angle, Kat slaps her hand over her face in second-hand embarrassment.
“So, uh, Nolan’s running away,” Pela notes, pointing to the theatre’s door.
“I can’t lose my King Caelin!” Sir Sandford cries.
“I’ll get him back,” Amara says, bolting after him.
Kat slaps her other hand over her face in second-hand embarrassment.
Amara Valda, ladies and gentlemen, the smoothest woman in Realmgard.
The rest of my Spring 2024 writing exercises are here.
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