As a single flute plays, there's a dancer with a wide, crenelated hat and a silver ribbon on a stick that she swirls about herself; and somehow she is become a ruined stone tower on the edge of the heath, rows of spiraling brick heading up to where a lonely sentry waits.
Moments of that nature fill the entire work, where some inspired bit of stagecraft or costumery conveys more narrative information than you would have ever thought possible. The script is exemplary, if sparse; or perhaps even more refreshing because of its spare quality after Gwendell's grandiose style.
The thrust of it has to do with the months-old conflict between Brenton and Flenders, the so-styled Flenish Wars. There's been so much else in your life to consider you haven't attended to the conflict overmuch, but this play helps you put pieces together and fill the gaps in your knowledge. When this merchant vessel was waylaid on this date, it prompted this retaliation on the border, which led to the siege of Aahvtaaren, which brought the navies into open conflict, and so on. How is it possible that a theatrical work can contain so much?
It is remarkable too how unsparing The Muse is in offering commentary on Brenton's many acts of aggression and callousness on the path to war. You see many members of the audience nodding their agreement with the Flenish characters portrayed onstage. Is't not the height of peril to criticize the leadership of King Saul the IV during wartime? This must be why The Muse does not hang a name on this otherwise exceptional work; he or she would hang along with it.
Onward