Mila's Turnwheel/Memory Prisms

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This page contains scripts for the ten Memory Prisms when viewed with Mila's Turnwheel.

Amid the Flames

Celica: Ngh... *cough cough* Please... Is anyone there?! Somebody, please... Please help me!
Mycen: Princess Anthiese!
Celica: Ah! Ah! Who...are you?
Mycen: I am Sir Mycen, Your Highness. I served your father as a knight. I'm here to take you to safety.Come with me!
Celica: ...... Ah... Waaaaaah!
Mycen: You were very brave to hang on all by yourself, Your Highness.
Celica: It was terrible... I woke up and smoke was everywhere... It was hot, and it hurt, and... And no one came to help even when I yelled as loud as I could!
Mycen: Well, I am here now, and I won't let anything bad happen to you. Now take my hand. Quickly!
Young Woman: (off-screen) Gyaaaaaaah!
Celica: Wh-what's happening...?
Mycen: Damn you, Desaix... He aims to leave no witnesses alive. I'm afraid things may get a little bumpy, Your Highness. Whatever you do, don't leave my side.
Celica: I won't. ...Oh, but wait! Where's my brother?! Where's Conrad?! Sir Mycen, you have to save my brother! Please!
Mycen: Your Highness, I... I checked every room on my way to you. There are none left alive. It pains me to say this, but I fear Conrad is no longer with us.
Celica: No... NO! Conrad!
(glass breaks, Slayde enters)
Slayde: Where's the princess?! Desaix's orders are to bring back her head, so somebody find her now!
Mycen: The time for grief will come, Princess. For now, you must survive. Come! We must be off!
Celica: ...A-all right. I'm coming.

An Oath at Dawn

Fernand: Clive!
Clive: Fernand! You came!
Fernand: Of course I did. I am honored to finally be able to call myself a knight of Zofia.
Clive: Alas... I fear I am going to incur your family's wrath anew for this. They blame me for every reckless thing you've ever done.
Fernand: What choice did I have? Am I to while away the time frolicking with my sister? Unfortunately, she's never been one for climbing trees or playing at the river. She's nothing like your Clair.
Clive: I fear my mother has given up on my dear sister. She worries she'll never marry off to a proper family. If Clair hears you've joined the knights, she's liable to try and follow. She does abhor being left behind...
Fernand: Ha ha ha! I've no doubt Clair will come to her senses. She's at the age where girls learn to embroider and be demure. She'll soon realize it best to leave the kingdom to us men.
Clive: Embroidery needles are just weapons to her. But we've other matters to discuss.
Fernand: Tell me, old friend.
Clive: Perhaps this is not a matter I should speak of, especially not while I serve His Majesty himself... but Desaix's swift rise at court... troubles me. For all intents and purposes, he now rules the kingdom.
Fernand: Aye, he's a cunning one. He has been putting pressure on my father as well, much to his chagrin.
Clive: No wonder—your father is a good and kind man. He doubtless has no desire to put his own people through such hardship. But he would be wise not to incur Desaix's displeasure. Not these days. I hope he knows how to play his cards.
Fernand: As do I. We all know what happened to Sir Mycen, after all.
Clive: It's a damned unfortunate business, all of it. I'm certain Sir Mycen would have led His Majesty down a wiser path. But now that he's been driven off, there is no point lamenting it.
Fernand: If only that were the worst of it. Now that the king's scions are no more, what becomes of the royal bloodline? The Knights of Zofia need a true king to protect, not a laughingstock.
Clive: Mind your words, Fernand. The king is yet young—he can produce more heirs. And while we cannot choose our king, we can still serve our people. The nobles of Zofia have a duty to her smallfolk.
Fernand: On that, we agree. King or no, it's the kingdom itself that is most worth protecting! Now, are you going to tell me how things are done around here or not?
Clive: Ha ha ha! Let me get you settled!

May I Have This Dance?

Rinea: ......
Berkut: You there. What are you doing?
Rinea: Lord Berkut! Pray, forgive me, my lord. I did not mean to give offense.
Berkut: Not at all. I approached you. It seems a terrible waste that you would come to a ball just to be alone.
Rinea: Perhaps. But mine is a lesser house, and I do not seem to find much favor here. In the end, I tired of all the eyes on me and retreated.
Berkut: You are mistaken, my lady. You were invited here—you have the right to carry yourself as anyone else.
Rinea: As you say, my lord.
Berkut: Do you not like dancing?
Rinea: My lord? Er, that is to say, I love to dance. In...most circumstances. There is a little grove behind my manor. Inside is a flower garden where small birds gather—it is a place dear to me. On days of fine weather, I go there alone and dance until my feet... Ah! Forgive me. You must find this all so terrifically dull.
Berkut: On the contrary. Tell me your name.
Rinea: It's...Rinea, my lord.
Berkut: Rinea. A lovely name. Rinea, may I have the next dance?
Rinea: Wh-what? You mean...with...me? Oh, I couldn't possibly! I mean, what would people think?
Berkut: Then we can dance here, away from prying eyes and wagging tongues. That is, if you do not mind the absence of your garden and birds?
Rinea: *giggle* Lord Berkut... You are too sweet.
Berkut: I pray that is a yes? I AM the emperor's nephew, after all. To refuse me would be most uncouth.
Rinea: I would love to dance with you, my lord. Shall we?
Berkut: My lady.

Memories of the Villa

Celica: Conrad? Cooonraaad! Where in the world did he go?
Conrad: (off-screen) Wait, is that...? Anthiese? Anthiese, is that you?
Celica: Conrad?! I can hear you, but I don't... Where ARE you?
(Conrad appears)
Conrad: Um...good morning?
Celica: Morning? It's past noon! What were you doing under the bed?
Conrad: I was hiding so the ghost wouldn't take me away.
Celica: Er, what ghost?
Conrad: Mother told me all about it! She said that if I'm bad, a ghost will come for me in the night. It'll come down from Fear Mountain in Rigel and take me away!
Celica: Aw, you're so lucky! Your mother's Rigelian, so she has all sorts of fun stories.
Conrad: ...Fun? So you're not scared of the ghost?
Celica: No, why would I be? I haven't done anything bad.
Conrad: Urk...
Celica: Have YOU done something bad?
Conrad: Urkkk... Um, well, I kinda accidentally... broke the vase in the great hall. Then I cleaned up all the pieces and buried them in the garden.
Celica: That was you?! The servants were looking everywhere for that vase. We have to go tell them.
Conrad: B-but I'll get in trouble!
Celica: It'll be fine, Conrad. I'll go with you. We'll apologize, and they'll forgive us. I promise. Besides, if you don't, that ghost is sure to come and get you tonight!
Conrad: Nooooooo! If it took me away, I wouldn't be able to play with you anymore.
Celica: And I don't want you to go away either. So then! Shall we go?
Conrad: All right...
Celica: Let's hurry and put this all behind us.
Conrad: Ah, wait! ...I'm kinda scared. Can I hold your hand?
Celica: Conrad, you... Oh, all right.

A Land of Gods and Men

Mila: Oh, Duma... Why can you not understand? All living things are deserving of happiness. We can build that paradise for them here in Valentia—a world free of misery!
Duma: Nonsense. A world without misery is not the same as a happy one. Misery shapes men throughout their lives. Hardship makes them strong. Smother them with blessings, and they will never learn what happiness is.
Mila: So you would temper them with misfortune instead? Mankind faces trials enough without us burdening them yet more. I wish to be their salvation—the hands that dispel their grief and pain. It is our duty as gods to save them.
Duma: Poor, foolish Mila... Your love would only make them soft and lead them to depravity and ruin. Men are weak. Our duty as gods is to make them strong. Our hands must be firm.
Mila: Duma, my dear brother... I'd hoped we could unite and make Valentia the utopia it was meant to be. But I see now that our argument will only continue in circles.
Duma: So it seems. I cannot even remember how long it has been, my sister. How long since we left our old world behind and came here to build anew. Regardless, it is clear the utopia you desire is not the same as mine. We must part ways. Let me rule the north, and you shall have the south. Let us vow to each seek our own ideals, and never trample upon the other's. We shall let time judge which of us has done right by mankind. Do we have an accord?
Mila: I tire of our fighting, my brother. An accord it shall be. Farewell, Duma. May your people find as much happiness\nas mine.