Chapter 1419: Best Play Award
As for the Best Play Award and Best Screenplay Award at the theater festival, they were naturally and uncontroversially bestowed upon the French Royal Troupe for their performance of "The Count of Monte Cristo."
It received the highest score of 19 points at the festival!
The Queen of France played the role of the middle-aged female lead, Mercédès, in this play. Of course, this wasn't the only reason the judges gave the play such a high score.
The play's storyline absolutely crushed all other scripts at the festival!
Even at the 3 AM showing, the audience was so thrilled during the scene where the Count of Monte Cristo escaped prison and was reborn from the ashes that they screamed themselves hoarse.
Indeed, Queen Mary did not appear on stage for that particular performance—her health wouldn't permit her to stay up so late.
The Best Actor Award, meanwhile, went to Saviano, the lead actor in "Braveheart."
For several days after the festival ended, people on the streets of Paris could be heard shouting "Freedom—" from time to time.
That was the last word yelled by William Wallace, leader of the Scottish rebels, before his execution. English was used on stage.
Indeed, the play concluded with the British retreating ignominiously from Porto, and tens of thousands of Portuguese citizens, tears streaming down their faces, swarming to greet the French and Spanish "divine soldiers" as they entered the city.
In total, out of the 42 plays participating in the festival, 15 received various awards.
Only four of these were relatively traditional plays; the others aligned with French propaganda objectives.
On the closing day of the festival, over 90 theater troupes from various European countries signed licensing agreements with the festival committee.
Henceforth, they would perform these plays repeatedly across Europe, at least twice a week.
This included three British theater troupes—while Britain did not officially participate in the festival, it didn't prevent their companies from traveling to Paris to observe.
That evening, at the celebratory ball held at Versailles in honor of "The Count of Monte Cristo"'s award, Queen Mary happily danced one tune after another.
Joseph watched his mother's waist, now noticeably slimmer, and felt a deep sense of relief—this was the result of his persistent encouragement and her exercise over the past two months. Previously, his mother had been significantly overweight, which was likely a major contributing factor to her diabetes.
Fortunately, after diet control and exercise, her elevated blood sugar levels had been initially brought under control.
He then remembered his upcoming trip to the Brest Shipyard, so he approached his mother, who had just finished a dance, and whispered, "My dear mother, would you like to relax by the sea for a while?"
"The sea?" Queen Mary sighed. "Of course, I'd love to. It's been almost 30 years since I last saw the ocean. But you know I can't just leave Paris whenever I please."
The "System of Presence" was central to French court etiquette and political rules, meaning the Queen had to be in the capital at all times and, barring unforeseen circumstances, remain within the Palace of Versailles as much as possible.
Joseph murmured into her ear, "It's alright. We'll say you've gone to Château de Meudon to recuperate. Everyone knows you're unwell."
Château de Meudon wasn't far from Paris, boasting beautiful surroundings and fresh air. Both Joseph and Thérèse had recuperated there when they were children.
Queen Mary's eyes widened instantly. "This... is that truly permissible?"
"Of course. But if you're to go out, you'll probably need a disguise. Perhaps as a Countess, for instance."
Queen Mary paused for a moment, then blinked and whispered, "I'll disguise myself as your guard."
"Well, if that's what you wish..."
Joseph, of course, wouldn't tell her that he was worried she'd secretly overindulge in cakes once she left Versailles.
...
In an old guild hall on the western outskirts of Vienna, musicians were energetically playing popular tunes of the day, but the audience was sparse, clearly indicating that business wasn't thriving here.
In a dim corner, Lukas von Scherer impatiently glanced towards the entrance, silently calculating that the others were already over 20 minutes late.
Two noble-dressed individuals sitting in front of him seemed to dislike the classical music being played and began chatting, completely disregarding concert hall etiquette.
"Have you heard about what's happening in Switzerland?"
"Yes, I believe there was a riot. But in such a poor place, it won't amount to much, just like the one a few months ago."
The brown-haired man on the left said, "This time it's different. My uncle told me that the rioters in Basel exchanged fire with the army in front of the town hall and routed the troops maintaining order."
"Oh, God! Is that true?"
"Of course, you know my uncle sees the reports sent to diplomats. They say over 20 soldiers died, and a Basel councilor announced the dissolution of the 'Committee of Seven.' But that fellow, Bois or something, has already fled to Zurich."
"That's terrible, where did those people get weapons?"
"The rumor is Württemberg provided them, but who knows?"
"Those damned fellows, this is treason against the Empire!"
The brown-haired man lowered his voice, so Lukas could only catch fragmented words: "...His Majesty has already... accepted... requests... troops heading to... suppress..."
Lukas clenched his fists in anger and muttered darkly to the high-nosed middle-aged man beside him, "The Tax Farmers have taken the last loaf of bread from the Austrian people's tables, yet our Emperor uses tax money to help the Swiss aristocracy suppress their own populace!"
The middle-aged man sighed. "The Empire was defeated by the French, and even the Polish army made a foray into the Ore Mountains. His Majesty the Emperor probably wants to achieve some victory in Switzerland to restore the Empire's confidence."
"Emperor?" Lukas scoffed. "An empire sustained by paying 'tribute' to its vassal states—its ruler shouldn't be called an Emperor, but a 'man of shame'!"
The "tribute" he referred to was the substantial diplomatic expenditure Austria poured out to maintain its influence in the German territories.
As the two spoke, a figure quietly approached and sat down next to them.
Lukas glanced at the man by the faint stage lights, his expression displeased. "You're at least 25 minutes late, Mr. Pagani."
The brown-haired middle-aged man looked around. "Why are you alone? Where are Baron Imperato and the others?"
Pagani was silent for a few seconds before he finally whispered, "They're not coming."
Lukas frowned. "What happened? Did they run into the Secret Police?"
"No," Pagani replied. "They've decided to withdraw. In fact, I'm just here to convey that message. From now on, I won't be participating in your activities either."
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