The Greatest Showman #714 - Enlightenment Teacher

"For those who have spent their whole lives confined to the European Big Six, New York City or Los Angeles might be the perfect vacation spot. However, it's hard for some to accept that the Amazon jungle houses a high society beyond our comprehension. Civilization continues to deny that Africa is the cradle of humanity, and North America, for some, remains the untamed land of the Columbus era. While times evolve, there are those whose clocks seem to be forever frozen."

Calm and unhurried, Renly started the conversation with a smile. The familiar faces around him, though unchanged by the two years since their last meeting, still bore the subtle marks of time. Their habits, styles, and manners remained the same, making it easy for Renly to take control of the social dynamic. Any onlookers hoping for a spectacle would leave disappointed.

After spending two years in the "Wild Land," immersed in the red dust of the "player" world, and having been exposed to "vulgar culture," Renly remained unruffled. He had not become embarrassed or self-conscious. In the midst of casual banter, his sharpness still shone through, yet it was delivered with elegance and steadiness.

In that moment, the youngest son of the Hall family, who had once captivated the aristocratic social circle, reappeared before them—making an indelible impression once again, whether for better or worse. That was a matter of perspective.

As he saw the smiles around him start to falter and the tension rise, Renly couldn't resist a playful jab. "Barbarians, always barbarians. I suppose there's some truth to that," he remarked, referencing a statement from the early 20th century, once used to dismiss the idea that the Amazon jungle might conceal an advanced civilization. Back then, the remark had come from the aristocracy, but now, after a century, it seemed that the definition of "barbarian" might have shifted.

With a shrug, Renly raised his champagne glass, signaling his intent to leave. Eaton, who stood beside him, followed, his eyes widening as he exhaled deeply. "Jesus Christ, their faces are turning blue."

"The show they were hoping for hasn't even started yet," Renly said, twirling his champagne glass between his fingers as though playing the black and white keys of a piano. Eight minutes had passed since they arrived, and George and Elizabeth still hadn't shown up.

This wasn't surprising. Neither George nor Elizabeth were likely to seek Renly out in such an awkward situation. They would have preferred Renly to greet them first, creating the appearance of a "family moment" for the onlookers. But Renly had no intention of obliging. Arthur knew this. Edith knew this. And George and Elizabeth, well, they should know too.

The real question was: Would George and Elizabeth take the initiative to approach him?

Before he could finish his thought, Renly's gaze sharpened, locking onto a figure in the crowd.

A man in his fifties, thin and dressed in a loose-fitting white shirt and suit, walked casually through the garden. His appearance was disheveled, the fabric hanging loosely around his frame. His short, light gray hair was cut flat, though the hairline had receded to the back of his skull, leaving only a few stubborn strands standing upright. His figure, though scruffy, suggested a certain distinguished air, one that could not be easily ignored.

He was standing in the garden, talking to a small group of people as the soft cream-yellow light bathed the lawn and bushes in a quiet glow.

Renly glanced back at Eaton. "Is this the person you were talking about?"

Eaton chuckled and nodded. "We met by chance when I was working on a costume design project for a theater company in Stockholm. The story was set in Queen Victoria's court. During that collaboration, I discovered he was one of the guest directors. He's in London now with his troupe for the opening. I invited him to join us, and to my surprise, he actually came. You've got to know, he's not one for these kinds of events."

As Eaton spoke, the man noticed Renly. It was impossible to miss the two figures standing together—Renly, the host of the evening, and Eaton, the subject of much gossip. Eyes naturally gravitated toward them.

The man walked over, but Renly, unwilling to wait, stepped forward to meet him. "Mr. Codd," he greeted, offering a polite nod and extending his right hand.

John Codd, the man in question, took Renly's hand with a stern expression. "Your basics are clearly slipping. What was that movie you did last summer? What was the performance rhythm? You're telling me that's what you call acting? It's hard to believe you came from our academy."

His reprimand was sharp, but the gleam in his eyes revealed a playful undertone.

Renly lowered his head in acknowledgment, offering an earnest, well-behaved response. "I agree. Just recently, I was thinking about whether I should return to the stage for further study. If you don't perfect your fundamentals, everything you do afterwards can easily fall apart."

John, however, wasn't buying it. "You can sweet-talk the other professors, but it won't work on me. You're always causing trouble. Honestly, when I met Alison last time, she asked about you. What did you do to her? I'm not fooled by your act."

"Alison? I'm innocent!" Renly exclaimed, his wide-eyed innocence betraying his playful tone.

John raised an eyebrow, studying Renly closely before snorting dismissively. "Sure, sure. I don't believe you, kid."

John Codd was Renly's mentor at the Royal College of Art and Arts, not just an acting instructor but also a celebrated theater director. Known for his extensive work with Shakespeare, John had directed numerous productions in London's West End, toured globally, and won the prestigious Olivier Award. He was a true leader in the industry.

"Since you're so eager to return to the stage, why haven't I heard anything about it? Actually, I'm working on a new play, and you could audition for the lead role. A perfect opportunity."

Renly chuckled, "I'm in the UK for work. I've got a film to finish up in the next few months."

John raised his eyebrows skeptically, but Renly's sincerity left no room for doubt.

"Are you working on 'Hamlet'?" Renly asked.

John's eyes twinkled at the mention of his renowned production of Hamlet, but he quickly shook his head. "No, we're looking at revamping Peter Pan and Les Miserables."

Renly raised an eyebrow. "A rehash of Peter Pan? That sounds like the literary version of Pirates of the Caribbean."

John rolled his eyes but paused, intrigued. "You've got a point. We were just discussing it. As for Les Miserables, it's still running at Queen's. Why remake it?"

"The Les Miserables part isn't the point," John waved it off, his attention shifting. "But why Pirates of the Caribbean? I haven't seen that movie, is it really just an adventure flick? It can't be that similar to Peter Pan."

Renly, ever familiar with his mentor's quirks, simply shrugged and moved the conversation forward.

"What is Peter Pan about, really? It's a tale of childhood dreams—refusing to grow up, fighting evil, preserving innocence. But when Peter does grow up, he faces his own confusion, and perhaps has to fight against Captain Hook. Or maybe they both seek rejuvenation, or accept reality. It's about growth, and I see some similarities with Pirates of the Caribbean. You should watch it."

John paused, nodding thoughtfully, but before he could respond, Eaton stepped aside, and the surrounding noise seemed to fade. Something unusual was happening, and John looked up just as a distinguished couple approached, gracefully walking into the garden.