Love and Daggers

Love and Daggers: A Musical Romance in Six Acts, commonly just called Love and Daggers, is a musical theatrical production written and composed by Felipe Normé. It was commonly said to be Falorian Empress Catérinne IV's favorite play, and thus acquired outstanding popularity.

The play is about a young girl, Fleur, who lives with her baker aunt, Aunt Birscy, and her interactions with Lord Relien, in whose county she resides.

Excerpt:

Aunt Birscy: Fleur, my dear, our dear Count's ball is in less that a fortnight! We must find you a gown.

Fleur: But I am a peasant girl; surely you jest, Aunt Birscy. What business do I have at a party for the nobility?

Aunt Birscy: But my dear, you see, this is no mere party. If the rumors are true — and the rumors ARE true — then he is in search of a wife. You are of age, and beautiful, too! It is the perfect opportunity to bring fortune to our family, and snag you a handsome man along the way.

Fleur: It is true, Lord Relien is handsome and wealthy, but what if I don’t love him?

Aunt Birscy: Oh, love! Surely you will, when you see him up closer. Dear Fleur, women can’t help but love a man like that. Nay, I hear even men love a man like that. <winks> Even I love him, and I’m old and married!

Fleur: No matter whether I love him or whether he is rich, or anything — I don’t have a gown, and I CERTAINLY don’t have an invitation.

Aunt Birscy: But you do have an invitation, my dearest niece, for I have acquired one for you.

Fleur: But how — and why?

Aunt Birscy: Why? Well, you know WHY, my dear. As for how, I dare not say. <chuckles>

Excerpt:

Fleur: <to herself> Ah, what a charming man. Lord Relien is more wonderful than I had imagined, and I think he likes me too. Alas, what am I to do? I should not deceive him into thinking I am of high birth, but I do like him, and Aunt Birscy would surely—

Anjaque: You there, dear girl! What a lovely gown that is. I have not seen you before. Tell me, what is your name and who is your family?

Fleur: Forgive me, Milord. I am Fleur.

Anjaque: And your house?

Fleur: Oh, we are less well-known than others…

Anjaque: Indeed you must be, for I do not know you or your family — but I wish—

Fleur: Surely a man of such distinguished countenance as yourself must be of a mighty house indeed. My family is boring, but yours must be great. Please, please, entreat me to learn of you.

Anjaque: Very well, as you have asked so politely, indeed, I shall reveal to you that I am Anjaque Fabio Lorsel-Vas, Baron Anjaque. Surely you know my ancestors well, for my great-grandfather, the fourth baron Anjaque fought in the wars against Bellica.

Fleur: Ah, yes, I must have heard of him before.

Anjaque: <much more sinister> Yes, but you see, girl, you shouldn’t play coy. I know your secret, for I know everyone in these circles. I may be but a baron, but my influence is great.

Fleur: I don’t understand what you mean.

Anjaque: My, my. Then I’ll explain it to you. You are not of high birth. I can tell by your manners and actions. You were raised a peasant.

Fleur: Milord, why are you saying this?

Anjaque: I don’t know your motivations, but I’m not so bad. I will let you play your little game if you play mine. <moves closer> You will carry out my orders in the palace, and I will let you continue your silly romance without revealing your lowly status, do we have an understanding?

Fleur: But why, sir, would you ask me to do this? What do you want?

Anjaque: I want what everyone wants, my dear: power. Muahahaha.

Excerpt:

Fleur: <to herself, looking at the dagger> I cannot. How might any girl bring herself to kill Lord Vorsile? He is a kind man, but Anjaque is a conniving baron. Is my identity so important to be hidden? Is love worth such a cost? But what is love if its participants are masked and hidden from one another?

Sylvie: Ah, I have seen you around with Lord Relien. You must be Lady Fleur.

Fleur: <hides her dagger> Ah! You’ve startled me! My apologies. You are so glamorous. Whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?

Sylvie: I am Lady Sylvie, daughter of Viscount Gatzhauer. I winter in this county quite often. Tell me, I’ve never seen you before this season, where are you from?

Fleur: Forgive me, that’s not important.

Sylvie: Oh, but it is.

Fleur: I’d rather not say.

Sylvie: Oh, but you -must- for I’ve told you about myself.

Fleur: And justly so. My family is not as important as most. A woman so charming and scintillating as you is worth talking about. Do you enjoy the countryside here, or is it the city?

Sylvie: A flatterer, you are. Very well. I’ll tell you. The weather is fine here, and the country is nice, if dull, and the city is fine, if plain. What I truly like about this place are the men, you see. They are such fine specimens… Like our dear Lord Relien, of whom you’ve grown so fond.

Fleur: Indeed, he is as sensitive and knowledgable as any man I’ve met.

Sylvie: Well, let me tell you something, Fleur. Relien is mine. I know you like him, but he’ll discard you. I’ve been a guest in his court many times now, and I know the ins and outs of these halls. You think I’m here for the fun of it? Lord Relien is my beast, and I am an unforgiving huntress.

Fleur: Does the count see it that way?

Sylvie: He will, in time, and you won’t be able to stop me. Beware, Fleur, in this court, you’re playing with fire. <noticies the dagger> What is that you have there? A knife?

Fleur: Ah, so sorry. It was a gift. I must not tarry any longer! I am expected elsewhere. My sincerest apologies. It was an absolute pleasure meeting you, Lady Sylvie. <runs off>

Sylive: Ah, how peculiar a situation. That girl best not be planning anything… Relien is handsome, charming, and rich, but most importantly, he is influential. I’m not here to cavort and frolic. I will find love, and with it, power. The Count will be mine.

Excerpt:

Aunt Birscy: Fleur, my dear! I told you not to come so openly! They may learn you are but a baker girl.

Fleur: <distressed> Oh, my dear Aunt, I cannot keep living in this charade. Living at court is so hard, and I love the Count too much to deceive him!

Aunt Birscy: My dear, my dear! What has brought this plague of doubt upon you? Was it Anjaque?

Fleur: He wanted me to kill a man, Aunt Birscy! He wanted me to kill Lord Vorsile. He has made me blackmail and steal and plant false evidences. I must come clean. I must tell the truth.

Aunt Birscy: Fleur, my dear! How horrible! What a bad man!

Fleur: <sobbing> He is! Anjaque is a bad man. But I love Lord Relien! I do not know what to do. I am not of high birth, but I want to bring our family fortune, and I want to be with Lord Relien, who loves me as I love him! But even so, I miss my life as a baker… so simple and carefree my world was.

Aunt Birscy: I wish I had never got you into this mess.

Fleur: You must not blame yourself, for I agreed to it. And in truth, I feel it is a trial from which I shall learn in time — but I know not what to do. Shall I come clean to Lord Relien? I know not if he will understand. There is a Lady Sylvie who is also vying for his affections, but she cares not for him like I do. I should not let him fall for her wiles. But if I am not noble, what use am I to a count? Not useful as a wife, certainly.

Aunt Birscy: I must confess, my dear, that I have been concealing something from you.

Fleur: <looks wistfully to her aunt> of what do you speak?

Aunt Birscy: Your parents were not farmers, and they did not die of illness. The truth is much more grand and much more sinister. Originally, I vowed not to tell you, so that you would not be caught up in the danger and sadness of such a tale, but I see now that I have already subjected you to a danger and sadness of a different kind, and now what I shall say might help you. Your father and my brother was the Duke of Borvai, in the Northern Hill Country. He and I got along, originally, but in my flitting and rebellious youth, I renounced my own nobility and left to prove my worth as a hard-working woman who could accomplish things without titles. Regardless, the family continued without me, but political turmoil grew in the area as the Bellicatians attempted to dig their tendrils into Hill Country politics. Soon after your father became the Duke, he was overthrown in a pro-Bellica coup, led by spies and propaganda! Your parents fled, with you, their newborn daughter, to the south, to me. They did not know where else to go or what else to do. They gave you to me because they knew I could keep you safe. As long as they lived, the assassins would search for them. And so they left, going West… trying to get as far away from the mess as they could. But news reached me a year later that they had been found and killed. It was tragic, and I was greatly saddened, so I vowed not to expose you to such a horrible thing — but you see, my dear, now you are old enough — now you have suffered enough that it might be helpful for you.

Excerpt:

Lord Relien: I am shocked, truly, but my love remains steadfast!

Fleur: Truly, my dearest lord?

Lord Relien: Yes, and I understand if you wish to leave. I know you not deeply, but I still wish to learn more about you.

Fleur: I am conflicted. I miss my simple life, and I cannot say I know how to be a Lady — and although by birth I am, by experience I am not, and do not wish to claim a title as I am.

Lord Relien: Very well. I cannot make you change such a fundamental thing about yourself, but I confess, you have fundamentally changed me.

Fleur: My dearest lord…

Lord Relien: Fleur, baker girl… after we deal with this villain Anjaque, would you allow me to court you — the real you, you as a peasant like you wish?

Fleur: I would be honored.

Sylvie: Alas, my plans! <turns toward Vorsile> But here is a handsome man I wish I had paid more attention to.

Lord Vorsile: But as for the villain Anjaque, who would have me killed to inherit my wealth and position, shall we send him to the judge?

Lord Relien: Aye! Vorsile, my good man, you are wise and patient.

Lord Vorsile: It is my duty to be so.

Sylvie: My heart… I have not known this feeling before, but perhaps I might begin to love… Lord Vorsile, may I introduce myself?

Lord Vorsile: You are Lady Sylvie, are you not? Alas, an old bachelor like myself has no business with a glamorous young lady like you.

Sylive: Au contraire. But the matter at hand — Anjaque!

Anjaque: You meddlers! I would have been a duke if not for you foolish minions ruining my plans!

Fleur: Be silent, you snake!

Lord Relien: Aye! Off with him! To the dungeon until a judge might see him.

Excerpt:

<A beautiful wedding scene. All the cast, even Anjaque in chains and flanked by guards, are in attendance. Relien and Fleur are at the left-center, and Vorsile and Sylvie are at the right-center.>

Priest: Then by my power, may the souls of this Relien and Fleur be commended to the gods for marriage. May their lives be filled with help and health, joy and love. And may the souls of this Vorsile and Sylvie be commended to the gods for marriage. May their lives be filled with help and health, joy and love. The blessings of Meshedra be upon these happy marriages! You may kiss.

<the respective couples kiss. the cast cheers.>

<Conductor: queue Wedding Fanfare from Score>