My Lord,
I hope this letter—and the script contained within—finds you and yours in the finest of health.
As per your instructions, I have completed my tour of the theatre circuits of the central and eastern Empire, and have composed what I consider to be the definitive version of "The Hunter Count's Shadow". The full script is perhaps my finest work, and it could not have been completed without your most generous patronage.
As you are aware, the play is a retelling of the deeds and legacy of both Electors Van Hal, and how they brought the cursed province of Sylvania to heel. It originated among the performing troupes of Stirland, with each troupe performing their own variation of the play, depending upon the size of the cast, the resources at their disposal, and the tastes and attitudes of their audiences. Whilst the play can accommodate any number of players, smaller troupes typically boil the cast down to four key members: The Hunter Count, his daughter the Grand Countess, Baron Blutdorf, and the Dämmerlichtreiter. Amongst many of the performers who practice this play, it is considered bad luck to speak the true name of the Dämmerlichtreiter. In deference to this superstition, I too will refrain from speaking her name in this letter.
Whilst I have no doubt that you will peruse my definitive edition at your leisure, allow me to provide a summary below, along with some of my own notes.
The play opens with a monologue by the former Elector of Stirland, Count Alberich II Haupt-Anderssen, where he waxes lyrical about the misfortunes of his house. One variant, popular in Altdorf, features a young "Empress Heidi" fleeing into the shadows beneath the Dämmerlichtreiter's cloak, but otherwise Alberich stands alone on the stage. It ends with the former Count begging for any power to save him. He then departs stage left, where a cacophony of laughs and screams can be heard. Some of the more ambitious troupes use powders to create brightly coloured smoke, although on at least one occasion this resulted in the stage catching fire.
Of an important note is that in all future scenes set in Eagle Castle, the cast will only enter and exit from stage right—stage left is barred, and considered to be bad luck should an actor accidentally follow Count Alberich to his doom.
The play then introduces our principal cast—Elector Count Abelhelm, Baron Blutdorf, and the Dämmerlichtreiter. The Hunter Count cuts a strong, noble, and heroic figure, as befitting the main character of the play. The Dämmerlichtreiter occupies one of two roles—either she is following behind the Count, silently copying his every action, or she exists upstage, behind the acting area, where she can be seen dueling foul cultists, arresting corrupt merchants, or kidnapping traitorous nobles. Throughout this, she speaks not a word, and yet exhibits an unmistakable presence upon the stage.
Baron Blutdorf, meanwhile, is her complete opposite—dressed in bright colours and bells, he is, to put it succinctly, the clown of the performance. At first glance he is a witless fool, and yet his every action results in a favourable result for himself and the Count, belying a cunning wit beneath his humourous facade. A popular character amongst the people, and one that adds much needed joviality to the play.
Act 1 can end in a variety of ways—in Stirland, the death of Count von Stolpe and a declaration of war against Sylvania is always popular, whilst Ostland favours the destruction of the corrupt Stirlandian League (to the point where performances that omit this subplot are liable to result in riots). I believe I have threaded the needle between these two plot beats most artfully.
Act 2 then picks up with Count Van Hel amassing a great army to lead into Sylvania. This act has little in the way of dramatic speeches, being little more than reenactments of famous battles from the Hunter's Hills campaign. I have taken it upon myself to elevate this section above the base violence typically seen in less cultured depictions. I hope you will find my original piece, the "Ballard of the Singing King", most entertaining.
The crescendo of act 2 is, of course, the tragic assault on Drakenhof. I am sure historians will have many complaints about how there were actually two battles of Drakenhof—one at the town, and one at the castle—but for artistic reasons I have merged them into a single battle. It is here, of course, that Count Van Hel takes his fatal wounds at the hands of Countess von Carstein, before herself falling to an enraged Dämmerlichtreiter, wielding the Orc Hewer in her liege lord's place.
The final scene of act 2 returns to Eagle Castle, where Van Hel's secret daughter, Grand Countess Roswita, is introduced. The Countess, in her naivety, curtly dismisses the Dämmerlichtreiter, who leaves without a word. The scene ends with Baron Blutdorf giving a scathing retort to the Countess, casting off his bells and wiping away his face paint—a gesture which symbolises the sudden tone shift into horror and despair in the third act.
The final act is the darkest and most harrowing act of the play. The Countess, alone and isolated, attempts to secure her father's sacrifice into a lasting victory, but her every effort is countered by the machinations of a nameless vampire. You will not find this vampire in the dramatis personae, for no actor will take on this role. Instead, this character is only known through the consequences of their unseen plans—traitorous servants, butchered guards, and a growing sense of darkness and isolation around the Countess.
Some variants attempt to draw a parallel between the trials faced by the Countess here, and the trials faced by the late Count Alberich, who perished in dishonour at the start of the play.
I have rejected this interpretation as disrespectful towards the Countess, and have rewritten it to present her as a strong and stoic hero, defying one of humanity's greatest enemies even as it takes everything from her. Her defiance and strength of will in this most darkest of hours is something I feel will inspire and uplift the masses, and creates a hopeful thread through the bloody tragedy of this act. I hope your Lordship will find my interpretation agreeable.
The play ends very suddenly—the Dämmerlichtreiter will simply appear onstage, the head of the unseen vampire in one hand, and a proclamation from the Emperor promising reinforcements in the other. This is typically the only time the Dämmerlichtreiter speaks—reciting the words of the Emperor himself, rather than voicing her own words.
I find the moral of the play most obvious—the silent and steadfast loyalty of the Dämmerlichtreiter wins the day, and shows how loyalty doesn't just reward those who exhibit that finest of qualities, but also rewards those who cultivate loyalty in their followers. I did draft a speech by the Countess hammering this point home, but test audiences were far too drunk by the end of the play to truly appreciate it. It also places emphasis on the role of the Emperor, granting him both the power and the grace to solve the problems plaguing the Countess. Some versions even go further, and specifically name the Orders of Magic as the saviors of Stirland. This isn't a popular version, as it presents a distrust of magic as a tragic flaw, but there are enough former soldiers in Stirland who have fought alongside wizards who appreciate the practicality of the matter, even if they themselves have not quite overcome their own discomfort.
I expect that this play will draw criticism from the usual quarters—from the Ulricans for being pro-Emperor, from the Sigmarites for being pro-magic, from the nobility for the overreach of the Grey Order, and from witch hunters for depictions of dark powers. And yet I expect these objections to cancel each other out, as the Hunter Count's legacy is historical fact, and the Dämmerlichtreiter—the real one, not the character in the play–holds much influence in halls of power across the Old World. By presenting these two characters in a flattering light(along with Countess Roswita), it would be easy to deflect criticism of the play as criticism of the individuals in question—an insult few would be foolish enough to speak out loud.
Should you find my work agreeable, then you would be pleased to know that I have already begun to compose a sequel—"The Shadow of the Mountain King", which follows the Dämmerlichtreiter's journey to the realm of the dwarves and her war against the greenskin menace. Such an endeavour of course requires me to make that pilgrimage myself, and your continued patronage would be most appreciated towards that end.
I eagerly await your reply,
Your loyal servant.
---
All the talk of dramatic troupes and "Lady Sotto Voce" made me wonder what an in-universe dramatisation of the Stirland arc would look like, and then the Muses put me in a headlock and forced me to write the above. Also I wrote half of it drunk, half of it hungover, and all of it on my phone's notes app, so any errors are entirely of my own making.
