The violet-clad dancers rushed into the little space the Zauber players had inhabited, and it suddenly became far too cramped to contain them all. A final glance at his reflection, and Cuttle deemed himself transformed. As Master Pie announced them, he jostled his way through the other performers, and positioned himself between Fiepet and Delph.

"Ready yourselves, soldiers!" he declared, "My moment to shine has come."

The music began, and the curtain lifted, that the divine Maddening Witch may make his grand entrance. A ball of fantastical light lit the leading man's path downstage, his woeful grace inciting pitiful reverance in all who saw him; the audience were in the palm of Cuttle's hand. All until Delph's curiosity got the best of him.

He'd been following his feet and Cuttle's lead, his head bowed and his eyes on the floor as they presented the 'prisoner'; but the hovering ball of light had attracted his attention. He tilted his chin, securing his view of the strange and glowing orb, the light reflecting in his eyes as his mouth dropped open in wonder.

 A man in the front row elbowed the friend beside him, who in turn, elbowed his wife. All thought of the witch was cast aside, when faced with the beauty of the soldier on stage. Despite the awkard knitted helmet atop his head, it was clear a star had come to bless them with its light. Cuttle noticed the shift, the audience leaning in to better look at Delph, their murmurs of astonishment pouring poison in his ear.

"Lower your head!" Cuttle hissed.

Delph quickly followed the instruction, inciting sighs of disappointment in the process.

"Woe and betide!" cried Cuttle as the witch, "Innocent as I am, I find myself in chains! Woe! Woe..!"

With a pull of his arm, he directed the soldiers towards the bench and elegantly took his place inside the 'carriage' as they lingered by his side.

When his lover knocks, we leave, remembered Fiepet, training his ear to listen carefully for the sound. Instead he heard them talking, the men and women in the crowd, seemingly intent on seeing more of his brother's beauty. Glancing to his right, he saw Delphin across from him; his head bowed and his cheeks crimson. Between them sat the lead, his jaw clenched and his brows fiercely narrowed.

"Lo!" boomed a voice from across the stage, "Lo, behold! Here stand I, a man of noble dignity, here only to save my poor widowed mother from ruin!"

"Aye!" cried his companion played by Marlin, "We are but humble men, strong and true! For the sake of our families, starving underneath the watch of the Protectorate, we are forced to join them, else perish!" 

"Ah!" cried Vole, "And here comes he, purest of men! Tasked with warding the witch they fear, for he is the bravest of us all!"

Amongst the audience's mutterings came a derisive laugh.

Stoat made his entrance as the mighty Warlock; his military garb adorned with glass jewels, shimmering like stars as he strode across the stage. He cut a fine figure, thanks in part to the stays beneath his clothes.

"Dear friends! I attend to the task I have been given, for I am unafraid!"

Walking dramatically towards the seated Cuttle; the Brothers Wren provided the knock upon the carriage door with which Stoat announced himself.

"I am come!" he declared, "To meet this witch of which you speak so tall and ill!"

Their cue to leave acknowledged, Fiepet and Delph scampered off behind the curtain, allowing the fated meeting to be played out. 

"What is this nonsense?!" pondered Fiepet aloud to his brother, "What did he say again? Woe and betide?! It's a wonder anyone would bother to watch such drivel. And you, Delph, how are you doing out there? With any luck, it'll be over soon."

"I'm okay," he replied meekly, "Although it feels somewhat like a fever dream. We should be setting the print face and finishing father's jobs, and yet here we are... though where we are, I couldn't tell you. Home seems a world away."

Fiepet was watching through a gap in the curtain. As Stoat called for the guards, he and Delph returned to take their places. The appearance of the handsome beauty was met with welcoming applause; but no sooner had they arrived than the light was dimmed, and the scene of the Warlock and his compatriots was set.

"Back offstage!" Cuttle whispered, ushering the pair to their spot behind the curtain. His hands on his hips, Cuttle paced in the little alcove, huffing and glancing in the mirror to admire the flush of his exasperation.

"What's next?" asked Fiepet.

"What?" Cuttle echoed back, as though the question irked him, "Next the Warlock discovers the witch's virtues and learns the secrets of his magic. The scene in which we fall in love of course!"

"I meant more... where do you want us to stand?" asked Fiepet, "Are we needed much longer? I should think there's still a fair distance to travel on our way back to Grunterbad."

"Oh. You'll take me back out when they finish up, and leave the same as before... after that there's a little more for you to do. When we make our escape, one of you catches Vole as the other makes false to stab him. Then only your deaths remain."

"We die?" Fiepet queried, "I'm not sure we've the acting chops to do so convincingly. Could we not simply return to the curtain?"

"You act well enough in my opinion! As though you'd never heard our history... the Protectorate must die so that the witch might return," Cuttle explained, "Only then will the Warlock spare our lives. Wherever this 'Grunterbad' is it must be very far from Relmund! And you!" he said, directing his attention to Delph, "Pull that helmet down! You're distracting them from the show!"

The smattering of applause from the audience signaled it was time for the witch to enter. Cuttle was not pleased that the loudest of cheers were directed at Delph. Resuming his seat on the bench, he swallowed his anger and vowed to win their hearts with the feeling in his speech.

"Alas! Another day draws closer to my cursed fate! How I long for freedom! That there should be a man whose truest heart can see my-"

"Let the other one do it!" came a call from the crowd.

"Yeah! Let the pretty one play the witch!" another laughed.

Cuttle shot a look at Delph. Just as he'd been told, the knitted helmet obscured his brow, his eyes fixed on the floor as he pulled his chin to his chest, and still they had been transfixed! However insincere their heckling may have been, it was enough to merit Delphin's expulsion from the stage.

"Go wait for us behind the curtain!" Cuttle ordered.

An assuring smile from Fiepet convinced him, exiting alone as the audience booed. This was why he always hated strangers; he could do nothing at all and still they'd take issue. Watching his brother out of sight, he wondered how long he'd have to remain in the darkness.

"Have you been with them long..?" a female voice asked from behind him.

One of the dancers had been the last to change her clothes. Her dull brown dress did not betray her glamorous profession; she looked like any other village girl, but for the purple flowers painted on her face.

"We met tonight," Delph admitted, "I'm employed at the printworks in Grunterbad... this is a favor we owe."

It wasn't like him to make conversation, but then it wasn't like him to don a costume and take to the stage either.

"Your words are strange," the girl replied with a gentle smile, "Don't be too disheartened that they're jealous. At least, your friend does not seem to mind your looks."

"My brother," Delph corrected.

"I'm the youngest of seven myself," said the girl, "Barely past two hundred years, while the oldest of us still recalls the century before King Vireo! How old are you, if you don't mind my asking?"

Delph played along. "Oh, close to five hundred," he joked, "But I happen to look young for my age."

The girl nodded, giving his answer more serious consideration than it was worth. "You'll remember Cimbria as it was then, before The Protector outlawed magic."

"In the play, you mean?" asked Delph.

"In the time of King Vireo..." she replied, as though the beautiful man was indeed quite simple minded, "You are a native of the Madning Isle, are you not?"

Delph pinched his finger. The dreamlike sensation was too strong.

"This really is terribly written," said Fiepet, appearing through the curtain and shattering Delph's disconcerting musings.

"The brother!" Delph's new companion declared, "You don't like it either..?"

Fiepet's knowing expression was not well founded. His wide eyes upon the discovery that Delph had made a friend, a female friend no less, were far too telling, and more embarrassing than Delphin could bear.

"Young miss," he bowed, "Fiepet Strahl of Strahl's Printworks. My brother and I are not of the arts, as I assume you to be. We are recent inheritors of our father's printing business, and are making our way back to the home we bachelors share in Grunterbad. I fear our understanding of the production is lacking. Perhaps you could assist in explaining it to Delphin?"

Delph's mimicry of Cuttle's sour-faced look was admirable. Fiepet was almost regretful for trying to help them out.

"Fie," said Delph, "This lady wanted to know if we were natives of the Madning Isle. A place which I have never heard of, and which I fear we now reside. Just how far from Grunterbad have we come?!"

Fiepet eyed the girl with curiosity and broke into playful laughter, "She is teasing you brother!" he cried, "Ah! I believe that was my cue."

With a bow, he left again. 

"Your words continue strange" said the girl, "How did you come to be in a place without knowing its name..? Are you of the west? Or further still?"

"Grunterbad," Delph replied with emphasis, "Our home is in Grunterbad."

The girl had no recollection of the name, and reeling off a list of towns and cities it might be closest to, she failed to connect it with anywhere in the world that she could think of. The mysterious brothers were becoming quite fascinating. 

On the stage, tensions were rising. The agitated Cuttle was doing his best to ignore the jeers of the dissatisfied crowd demanding the 'other' soldier's return, but one voice in particular was growing louder.

"Red hair?! His hair was never red! Only his eyes! His eyes were demon scarlet!"

A true professional, Cuttle continued the emotional scene; declaring his innocence once more and pledging his love to the Warlock. A small enchantment, and the bench on which they were seated began to rise, a pink glow surrounding them as they loudly sang of their love for each other. Fiepet took the opportunity to escape and check on Delph.

In utter disbelief, the youngest Strahl was watching as the furniture floated in the air.

"Do you see that?!" he cried, "Fiepet, do you see it?!"

"A little stagecraft, though the wires are well hidden," Fiepet admired, "I'm sorry it's taking so long. Are you hungry? I'll ask if there's anything to eat once it's over."

"Fiepet. Do you really not see what's happening around us?" asked Delph, "How completely insane this all is?" 

He felt he was descending into madness alone.

"This is just what things are like beyond the mountains," reasoned Fiepet, "It seems strange to you because our world was so small. Delph... I know it's a lot. For you, especially; but think of the stories we'll have to tell once we're home!"

Their comfortable home in their small, safe world... it seemed so far away.

The song reaching its climax, Fiepet stepped back onto the stage with an encouraging smile to his brother. So long as he didn't admit it, that everything felt odd, then he could keep pretending that nothing was wrong. He could continue to be someone his brother could rely on.

Returning to his place, the bench settling down onto the stage beside him; Vole handed him a dagger, whispering in the dark how to use it. As the lovers made their escape from the carriage, Fiepet took hold of Vole, the dull blade at his throat.

"You beast!" cried Marlin, "In threatening the life of our hero's greatest friend, you have pushed him to the limits of despair!"

"Despair, do I!" shouted Stoat in response.

Fiepet pushed the button at the dagger's hilt, and a stream of red ribbon came pouring out, Vole's 'lifeless' body sliding carefully to the floor.

"Alas! My pure heart cannot remain in such a cruel and hateful world!" declared Cuttle as the witch, "Until the evil of this isle is slain, I may never have chance to return! Now I must-" 

The most vocal member of the audience threw a wooden beaker, cutting short Cuttle's soliloquy.

"Wrong!" he bellowed, staggering his way through the crowd, "Wrong again! That's not how it happened..! And I of all people should know!"