LORIN + AUGUSTUS - A Play in Four Acts

[Urahra 5777]

LORIN + AUGUSTUS

A Thesis on Compassion in Four Acts
Penned by Bianca La Fleur

Based on the medieval writings of Lorin of Kaedrin*.

Published 1772

 

Part of the Black Rose Quartet

On The Shores of Paradise        Lorin + Siegmund       Lorin + Augustus       Inheritor

 

This play is a work of fiction meant for entertainment only. Changes have been made for the purposes of simplifying the story for the stage. It is not to be treated as a historically accurate text for purposes of education

 

---

 

CAST

 

Lorin Flay - A young woman in her 20’s. Brown hair, blue eyes. Beautiful, witty, and fashionable, though trapped in a bad marriage.

 

Augustus Flay - A fearsome man in his 70’s. Grey hair, grey eyes. Severe and frightening, clad always in plate armor with a red bandana over his face.

 

Tiberius Flay - A young boy. The son of Lorin and Augustus.

 

Soldiers - Flay soldiers, clad also in red bandanas.

 

---

ACT 1

Spoiler

 

CURTAINS RISE upon a cold and lonely tower room. Decorated marginally with nothing but a bed, a desk, a chest in which to keep one's linens, a screen for dressing, a mirror and washbasin. A single window, narrow and small. 

 

LORIN FLAY, the lady to whom this chamber belongs, sits at her desk amid a stack of papers. She pauses in her writing to regard the light from the window.

 

LORIN
How blue the sky beyond my tower is,
How fair and green the rolling hills and fields.
Yet trapped am I in dreary castle thus,
Held in bondage by union foul and cruel.
For sake of alliance, he took my hand
Not in love but for the need of soldiers
To sate his lust for blood, terror, and gold.
Lonely am I in my great miseries,
Prevented from seeing my only son,
Tiberius, my source of love and joy.

 

She looks down upon her writing.

 

LORIN
My lord allows me little comfort here.
This tiny room, so very cold and dark,
And yet my writing bears me far afield.
My words grant me fine wings with which to fly
And dream that I am in a distant place.

 

Her musings are INTERRUPTED by a sudden CRASH as the SOLDIERS of her husband kick the door open. Lorin LEAPS to her feet and scrambles to HIDE her writings. 

 

The red-bandana-clad soldiers begin to tear her room apart in search of something.

 

LORIN
What, you damned villains! Bedevil me not! 

 

AUGUSTUS
(off-stage)
Be silent, woman!

 

Lorin is cowed into silence as her lord husband enters the room.

 

Clad in plate armor and his red bandana, AUGUSTUS FLAY cuts an intimidating figure in spite of his advanced age.

 

AUGUSTUS
Be silent and relinquish that I seek. 
Or I will have my men take it by force.

 

LORIN
What seek you, my lord?

 

AUGUSTUS
Must you present this mask of false virtue?
I know far too well of your womanly tricks.

 

LORIN
What tricks are these, my lord?

 

AUGUSTUS
My man Drelik has born witness 
To your secret, furtive scribbling. 
To whom do you write?

 

LORIN
To our son.

 

AUGUSTUS
You think me a fool.

 

LORIN
I do not, my lord.

 

AUGUSTUS
Our son does not yet walk but you say he reads?
Were I not so furious, I would laugh.
Speak the truth, woman. You write the Teutons.

 

LORIN
No! I deny it.

 

AUGUSTUS
By my troth, you are a vengeful traitor.
You hate me for the theft of our young son
And so you write and so you plan to kill
My men and me upon Teutonic swords.

 

One of the soldiers locates Lorin's writings. 

 

SOLDIER
My lord, I have attained the secret files.

 

AUGUSTUS
Bring them hither.

 

Augustus takes the pages and reads over them.

 

AUGUSTUS
What code is this?

 

LORIN
'Tis not a code, my lord. I write stories.
Small fictions to comfort our little son.

 

AUGUSTUS
He has no need for such trifles, woman.

 

LORIN
My lord, I hear him cry at night, all alone.
And as his darling mother, I do but wish
To show him some token of love from me.
If I cannot see him, but let me write.

 

AUGUSTUS
You promise this is no Teutonic scheme?

 

LORIN
Have you no trust in your dear lady wife?

 

Augustus LAUGHS. He RIPS up her writings and casts them aside.

 

AUGUSTUS
'Dear'? I must laugh, for you are not dear to me.
I call you wife, but make no mistake.
We are bound by law but never by love.
My trust is something you have yet to earn.
But a thought occurs now to your husband...
If you must scribble, you may write of me.

 

LORIN
My lord?

 

AUGUSTUS
The waves of time crash down upon my soul,
And I feel the spectre of death draw near.
I will not live to see our son grow up,
Therefore I must live solely upon the page.
My son will know me through your written words.
Take up your pen and put it to my cause.

 

LORIN
(sarcastic)
I prefer to write of happier things.

 

Augustus SLAPS her in the face.

 

AUGUSTUS
Do you not wish to see Tiberius?

 

Lorin holds her cheek, WEEPING -- not in sadness, but in anger.

 

LORIN
If I write of you, may I meet my son?

 

AUGUSTUS
I will grant it.

 

LORIN
Then may the words fly swiftly from my pen.
Though I despise you, I will write you well.

 

AUGUSTUS
See that you do. On the morrow, we meet
And I shall divulge to you my story.

 

Augustus motions for his soldiers to EXIT. He follows them out.

 

Lorin sits at her desk, tears falling.

 

LORIN
Little Tiberius, my precious son,
You were born not of love but only duty,
And yet I keep you foremost in my heart.
It is for you that I continue breath.
If I might hold you in my arms once more,
I would write any word Augustus wants.

 

CURTAIN FALLS.

 

 

---

ACT 2
 

Spoiler

 

CURTAIN RISES on Lorin's bedroom. She lies curled in her small cot until a SHARP KNOCK disturbs her sleep. She gets out of bed wearing her nightgown.

 

LORIN
Devilish man. He grants me no reprieve.

 

She goes to the door, but does not open it.

 

LORIN
My lord, would you but grant me a moment?
I am not yet suited for your viewing.

 

AUGUSTUS
(off-stage)
Be swift. I have little patience for you.

 

Lorin rolls her eyes and retreats behind her screen to dress into her finery. When she emerges, she's wearing fine red velvet - fashionable and suiting to her status. She unlocks the door.

 

Augustus ENTERS, looks her over.

 

AUGUSTUS
Must you waste your allowance on such garb?

 

LORIN
(sarcastic)
Is it not a wife's duty to dress well
And please the eye of her loving husband?

 

AUGUSTUS
Your witty tongue does you no favors, woman.
Take care I do not slice it from your head. 
I should like you better silenced thusly.
But enough banter. We have work to do.

 

Lorin sits down at her desk and takes up her pen.

 

LORIN
(sarcastic)
My ear and quill are yours, dearest husband.

 

AUGUSTUS
You quip, but forget not who holds your leash.
You are mine to use wholly as I please.

 

LORIN
(angry)
And you forget not who holds yours, my lord.
For should any damage be done to me,
My uncles will make you pay back tenfold.

 

AUGUSTUS
And yet they gave you to me in bondage,
Augustus, who is called the the worst
Of Oren's devils, who is feared by all,
Loved by none, not even the woman called ‘wife.’
This man who separates tender skin from flesh
And hoists the flayed corpse as his proud banner.
Thousands of men have died upon my blade.
I have turned the rivers red with blood.
My specialty is slicing raw human meat
And they call me the cruel butcher of men.
When Augustus walks, all mortals scatter
And weep to be spared from my cutting sword.
I fear not Hell for it is my true home,
And when I die, the Nether shall tremble
For its crimson king has returned once more.
Do you imagine your uncles love you
When they happily gave your hand to me?
I know even you are not so foolish.
Come, woman! Do you not wonder what caused
A mere man to become so wholly feared?
You have a curious mind as I know.
Ask your questions and I shall answer them.

 

Lorin begins to write.

 

LORIN
Was this demon raised by human mother?

 

AUGUSTUS
I knew her not. She did abandon me.
Methinks she was but some vile, old w h o r e,
Plying her trade upon Alrasian streets.
I make no claim to storied, ancient blood.
It is common sludge that flows through my veins,
Yet now it mingles with the noble kind.
Tell me, woman, does it not disgust you
To know a whoreson shared your marriage bed?

 

LORIN
It is not by blood that men are made great,
But rather by how remarkable their deeds.

 

AUGUSTUS
Flattery, and yet it rings true for me,
Myself and my brother – Tiberius
for whom our son is named -- were urchins
Of the lowest kind, sleeping in the street
And begging passersby for food and coins.
I had no toys besides the filthy rats
And found pleasure in ripping them to shreds
in vicious play, the seed of my future.
The lord of the Alrasian slums, Sicklent,
Took a keen interest in my gory games,
Gave shelter to this twisted, wayward youth,
And, in exchange, demanded loyalty.

 

LORIN
And would you take that loyal knee, my lord?

 

AUGUSTUS 
Would I stand here now if I'd submitted?
I bend the knee for no man save Godfrey
And only then because it was wiser
To swear an oath than wage continued war.
He offered prizes greater than I'd known
As Prince, the fiend-like lord of all bandits.
No, Sicklent would never be called my liege.
Instead, I sought fortunes all of my own
And chose my freedom over submission.

 

LORIN
And did this Sicklent disagree with you?

 

AUGUSTUS
Most surely, he despised my rebellion
And sought to put me in my deserved place.
He sent his brutes to make slaughter of me,
But he did not anticipate my strength.

 

LORIN
Then I shall conclude the first volume so,
With your victory over slavery.

 

Lorin lowers her pen.

 

LORIN
Might I see Tiberius now, my lord?

 

AUGUSTUS
(deeply sarcastic)
Is the work yet completed, dear wife?

 

LORIN
You must not torment me thusly, my lord.
Did we not arrange a fair agreement?
My pen is yours to write your history,
And in exchange, you shall release my son.

 

AUGUSTUS
A fair agreement, yes, we did make.
Tiberius is free once the story’s done.
Complete my tale from birth until my death,
And our son is yours to smother with love.

 

LORIN
(realizing with horror)
But if this tale must end with your death,
It may be years until at last it concludes.

 

Augustus LAUGHS.

 

Lorin, enraged, STANDS up abruptly - moving to RIP the paper.

 

AUGUSTUS
Stay your hand, woman. Do you break your oath?
If you wish your son to know his mother,
You will do only as I command you.

 

Lorin -- reluctantly, furiously -- puts the pages down on her desk.

 

AUGUSTUS
Good woman. You are an obedient wife
And let it be known you shall have your prize.
Good things come to those who wait patiently,
And I can be generous when it suits.

 

He EXITS.

 

Lorin covers her face with her hands as she WEEPS.

 

LORIN
Generous? Does he dare to call it that?
He tore the infant from my tender breast
For my husband feared the foul corruption
That is a mother’s devoted, yielding love.
I am a sad prisoner within this home,
If home it can indeed be called at all.
Not home, never. Truly, this is my Hell.
Forgotten by all and loved by no one,
What use is there in continuing to live?

 

A child’s CRYING is heard from off-stage. 

 

Lorin STANDS UP and RUNS to the door, pressing her ear against it and listening.

 

LORIN
Tiberius, my boy! My little boy!
So near to me and yet so far removed.
I’ll endure until I can hold you again.
I’ll love you until your father’s evil
Shall no longer curse the two of us.
One day, I’ll make our lives a world of joy
Where peace and beauty shine forevermore.

 

CURTAIN FALLS.

 

 

---

ACT 3

 

Spoiler

 

Lorin lies asleep in bed.

 

The door BURSTS OPEN and Augustus strides in, already mid-rant.

 

AUGUSTUS
In days of yore, in Aegis old, we ruled
With burning iron, crimson blood, and gold.

 

Lorin JERKS awake, displeased and disturbed. She fixes her hair in her mirror as he rants.

 

AUGUSTUS
Every traveler feared the day they might meet
Fearsome Prince and his mighty gang of men.

 

LORIN
(sarcastic)
Mighty as you are, I say, my lord,
Princely you are most assuredly not.

 

AUGUSTUS
And therein lies the humor, fool woman,
That a foul, dirty urchin such as me
Might be likened to a charming, young prince.
Why are you not yet at your desk, dear wife?

 

Lorin moves to her desk as commanded.

 

LORIN
Would my lord have me sleep with pen in hand?

 

AUGUSTUS
If it would keep your mind on your duties,
I should have you chained to that writing desk.
Your charge is to inscribe my legacy
And not to waste my time with your preening.

 

LORIN

(tired of his antics)
Where were we? Ah, the subject of coins.
 

AUGUSTUS
...And princely sums of coins we surely had,
Enough to make the richest merchant blush.
Our swords brought the greatest lords to their knees
And kings and queens graced my torture cellar.
All the kingdoms of Orenia wept
And begged for mercy from the one called Prince.

 

LORIN
But even Prince would bow to the true king.

 

AUGUSTUS
You speak of Godfrey and, yes, this is so,
But the Emperor owes his throne to me.
For without Prince, Godfrey would have no crown.
My soldiers forged his empire with our blood.
The lands of Seventis, Salvus, and Haense --
Each one brought to heel by Augustus Flay.
And yet, I ask, where is my true reward?
Stolen from me by the Teutonic Order!
The crown of Hanseti belongs to me
And no other, yet DeNurem still reigns.
One day, the Hochmeister shall taste my blade
And the rightful crown of the northern lands
Shall rest finally upon my wizened brow. 
Mark my words, Prince shall very soon become
The king he so richly deserves to be.

 

LORIN
(aside, to herself)
Dear Creator, please, may there never be
A queen of Haense as miserable as me.

 

AUGUSTUS
Speak louder, woman! My ears have grown old.

 

LORIN
Tell me of your other brides, my dear lord.
There were three, yet you’ve not mentioned one.

 

AUGUSTUS
They matter not, for none fulfilled their duty.
The only name worthy of ink is yours,
For you have born to me a son and heir,
And no greater treasure exists than that.

 

LORIN
(sarcastic)
To be your womb is my crowning glory.

 

AUGUSTUS
Would that you did your duty quietly,
And did not vex me with your sharpened tongue.
Count yourself lucky, for surely no other man
Would suffer a wife as vicious as you.

 

LORIN
(sarcastic)
Vicious wife for vicious man. Well-suited, we.

 

AUGUSTUS
There, the tale has been brought to the present.
My lifetime lies before you on the page.
What say you?

 

Lorin looks down at the pages of writing on her desk.

 

LORIN
It is a tale ugly, foul, and strange,
Telling of a man heinous and deranged.
A filthy urchin deprived of all love,
Rising to rule as one far, far above,
Yet still beholden to his depravities
A brute to whom there are no blasphemies.
No depths to which he will not dare to sink
To wear golden crown and cape trimmed in mink.
A Prince who craves to be named a king,
To sit upon throne and watch rivals swing
From hempen rope in gallows a-creaking.
But will this cruel wretch find what he’s seeking?

 

She turns to look at him.

 

LORIN
No single joy have you in this sad life.
No tender love for your son or your wife.
The throne of Haense will never fill the void
Created by the lives you have destroyed.
In truth, you are a sad and lonely man
Driven by spite and calculated plans.
Deprived of love and so you must deprive
Others of the joys that keep us alive.

 

She stands up slowly.

 

LORIN
You forced on me an unwanted child,
Whom I came to love despite my trials.
But you could not allow such happiness 
When by misery you are so oppressed.
To corrupt the child in your likeness,
You removed him from all loving kindness
To fill him with as much hatred as you 
And to blacken his heart the more he grew.
But I can imagine no darker fate 
Than for you to be what he emulates!

 

AUGUSTUS
So this is what you truly think of me.

 

Lorin turns her back on him. 

 

This is the last straw. 

 

Augustus SEIZES Lorin by the throat and shoves her bodily up against the wall.

 

As she claws at his hands, trying to pry them off her throat, he starts to SQUEEZE.

 

Lorin CHOKES and GAGS, tears streaming down her face. 

 

AUGUSTUS
How right you are when you speak of me, wife.
Yes, the monster you see was once a man,
But denied compassion and dignity,
Was transformed into the beast before you. 
If not granted what is mine by my right,
Then I shall seize it by my bloodied sword.
On the morrow, I shall settle my score
With Mirtok DeNurem once and for all.
The battle for the Dreadfort looms near.
My men prepare for the final assault.
And the first blood spilled this auspicious night,
It appears, my darling wife, shall be yours.

 

His gauntlet-clad hand presses tighter upon her windpipe. There is SILENCE aside from the sound of a woman choking and slowly dying.

 

Their eyes are locked as Lorin’s vision begins to grow fuzzy and dark. She lifts a trembling hand and brings it to stroke the side of her husband’s face. She runs a soft finger over his cheek.

 

An unexpected act of sympathy and compassion as she is about to die by his hand.

 

Augustus reacts as if he’s been slapped. He reels back and lets go of her throat. She falls to her knees, gasping for breath. For perhaps the first time in his life, he is struck speechless. 

 

Lorin looks up at him.

 

LORIN
(gasping for breath)
Though indeed you are a vile monster,
I trust you can become a man again
Should you finally do what you know is right.

 

Augustus says nothing. He EXITS.

 

CURTAIN FALLS.

 

---

ACT 4
 

Spoiler

 

CURTAINS RISE on Lorin as she scribbles at her desk.

 

Her writings are interrupted by a KNOCK at the door. She rises to answer –

 

And is shocked to find her WOUNDED husband, leaning on the arm of his soldier for support.

 

AUGUSTUS
Lorin. 

 

This is the first time he has said her name.

 

AUGUSTUS
Come hither.

 

Lorin crosses to meet him. She takes his hand in hers – and leads him over to the desk hair. Augustus SITS, clutching his battle wounds.

 

AUGUSTUS
Death has stalked me for many long years
And today he finally claims his prey.
Lorin, because of you, my lady wife,
I die not as a Prince but as a man.
Look there.

 

He gestures. The soldier unlocks the bedroom door and in steps a SMALL BOY. TIBERIUS. 

 

Tears spring to Lorin’s eyes. She goes to meet her son, but Augustus GRABS her wrist.

 

AUGUSTUS
Honor our agreement. Finish the book.

 

Lorin says nothing, but NODS.

 

He lets her go and watches as she runs to her son. Lorin EMBRACES her child at long last.

 

With his last sight being his wife and child, he closes his eyes a final time.

 

CURTAIN FALLS.

 

 

[Cracker 4570]

Underneath Helena’s printing houses’ text on imperial history of the era laid a copy of La Fleur’s script. The Archchancellor mulled quietly over the text, having no knowledge of the author or her background. Yet in moments, the statesman and sorcerer was enchanted, spirited away to the time of the Prophets – thoroughly lost in the saga of Lorin + Augustus. As he finished, he immediately penned a missive to the son of his personal friend Jasper,.

 

@Heff

 

“To the Master Peridot,

 

We have a debut performance to the new opera house. Lorin + Augustus. My favorite – ensure me a front row seat to this story.”

[Urahra 5777]

OOC:

 

Fixed some typos and adjusted several lines. 

[Heff 2460]

Peridot Carrington reclined in the office above Green Carrington’s old pawn shop. He scans Simon’s missive, “Tell the old sage I will produce whatever he desires.” The romantic, after thanking the old Basrid’s courier and tipping him, sits down to indulge in the play’s script. He shuffles page after page, enthralled in the expertly crafted saga. “A sorceress of the written word indeed...” he mutters. The purple clad master of arts puffs on his cigarette and takes out a quill. He writes a letter. 
 

@Urara 

To the mysterious playwright La Fleur, 

I thank you for the obvious time and dedication set upon this page. You are a masterful wordsmith and, while I know not you nor this story, you’ve brought emotion to my eyes and a frog to my throat. At the Archchancellor’s wish, I will set this script to the stage and make sure it is remembered for generations. All, whether old and lonely Basridi grandfathers or prickly noble women, shall take this story with them to their dreams and feel for these characters as if they knew them, as if they were in that tower. You may live in lands afar or you may be long dead, but I invite you nonetheless to witness your play and offer instruction in my production of it, if you so wish. If not, then I hope you hear of its glory. 

 

Thank you dearly,

Peridot B. Carrington

[Urahra 5777]

@Heff

 

Peridot’s letter would receive a response –

 

To Mr. P. Carrington,

 

Thank you kindly for your letter and your praise. I should very much enjoy seeing the tale adapted to the stage. This is my first play and I would have never imagined that it would reach such appreciative eyes. Indeed, I believed it would surely be overlooked among the many worthy publications released in Oren year by year! Thank you and the Archchancellor both for this blessing.

 

Unfortunately, I am sickly and unable to travel due to my poor health. Like the poor Lady Flay in the tale, I am sadly confined – not by cruel husband, but by the painful and disabled state of my body. I will not bore you with the details of my invalidity, though.

 

However, if you would like my input on how to stage and costume the drama, I should be very glad to keep up an exchange of correspondence. I have long imagined what it would look like if it were to be performed on stage. How wonderful that my dreams will soon become a reality!

 

Signed,

 

 

OOC: message me if you’d like my discord 🙂