The Skill Thief's Canvas - Chapter 9 (Patreon)

"You...do?” Belmordo seemed utterly baffled. “Why not merely accept my proposal, Lord Adam? We both stand to gain from it.”

The man was far too naive. He thinks it’s that easy, huh? That I’ll either go along with his plan, accept the curse and render myself harmless, or walk away and let him get Vasco’s daughter killed?

Adam could see why Belmordo had assumed all that. The would-be lord was making his offer from an advantageous position. Penumbria needed Gama, and due to the Hangman’s imminent arrival, Adam’s options were limited. Gama may have technically been Vasco’s city, but Belmordo wouldn’t be attempting this ploy if he didn’t have support in both high and low places. Even if Adam decided to assassinate Belmordo right here and now, the guards would turn on him, then retreat home and raise the alarm about a ‘traitorous’ lord coming to assail them.

It would be different if there was more time. If the Hangman wasn’t coming so soon, Adam would pull back and contact Vasco. He still could, technically, but that wouldn’t save Vasco’s daughter and earn Penumbria the financial support it sorely required. Belmordo was well-aware of this. He wouldn’t have proposed his deal at this point in time otherwise.

So yes, Adam understood Belmordo’s assumptions – and he was more than fine with them. They would make things much easier.

So easy that it almost felt unsportsmanlike.

“Not long ago,” Adam began, “I used to play a game of strategy, on occasion.” He was referring to chess – and by ‘play’, he mostly meant that he listened to chess streams in the background while working or studying. “Whenever I played against someone better than me, they’d give me warnings. Before I lost like an idiot, they’d say: ‘Are you sure?’ and ask me if I wanted to take that move back. So I’m asking you, Belmordo...do you want to take that move back?”

“Have you been reduced to desperate bluffing, Lord Adam?” Belmordo laughed. “My terms are plain. Accept them or not.”

“It’s not bluffing. I just think that I’d rather avoid killing someone. Never done it before.”

“You...you turned Lord Aspreay into an unmoving husk.”

“With a painting. Not quite the same as sticking a blade in someone’s heart and watching the light of life fade from their eyes.” Adam fixed his gaze on the man, the Stained Ink twisting under his clothes. “Although, if someone had to be my first, you wouldn’t be the worst choice.”

There was a silence.

“If you kill me, you will be unable to save–”

“Yes, yes, I heard your spiel the first time. But if you insist on being blunt, I will too – even if I accept your curse, I’ll kill you by tomorrow morning.”

Belmordo gasped for a moment, then laughed it off again. His nervousness couldn’t have lasted for longer than a second. “Again, my lord; I am not one to be cowed by bluffs.”

“In that case, I’ll be happy to accept the curse...if you agree to add one condition.”

“A condition?” Belmordo asked.

“You can you add curses that triggers upon death, right? Like you did to the guards?”

At this, Belmordo appeared a little suspicious. “Yes, but only if the effect is immediate – nothing that can trigger many days after, for example.”

“Good. Then I’ll agree to your cursed terms, so long as you add one item to that list.” Adam leaned forward. “If you die within a day of our arrival in Gama, I want to have your Orbs. Every single one of them.”

Belmordo studied Adam for a moment. There was some sweat on his forehead now, but although the atmosphere was tense, the man himself didn’t appear overly nervous. “What manner of bluff is this, Lord Adam?”

“No bluff. We’ve established our terms. You think I’m helpless, and I think I’m not. So, come. Let’s dance.”

“My lord, if you’ll only agree to my proposal–”

“Quite frankly, Belmordo, I think you’re rather repugnant, and I reject any idea of siding with you,” Adam snapped. “You want me to be a dog on a leash? I refuse. Or maybe you’d prefer me to just turn around right now and make matters easy for you? I refuse that too. In truth, the only decision that makes sense to me right now is to kill you.”

“If you kill me, my soldiers will place the city on high alert – you won’t be able to save Vasco’s daughter. At that point, you’ll lose out on establishing a deal that will help Penumbria–”

Adam stepped closer to him. “Haven’t you been listening? That’s why we’re going to handle things a little differently. Let me tell you how this is going to go: I’m going to agree to your curse, save Vasco’s daughter, then have you killed. I’m telling you this, to your face. But you’re still going to go along with it, because you’re an arrogant idiot who thinks I’m bluffing, when in fact you’re simply too stupid to figure out your mistake.”

Belmordo’s face tightened. He was furious, but even when speaking of murder, it seemed that people had to follow a certain etiquette here. With a motion that almost felt like an attack, he withdrew a piece of parchment, hastily writing on it with the same quill he’d used on the vending machine earlier, and turned it around to show Adam.

–You cannot kill Belmordo.
–You cannot take away Belmordo’s soul.
–You cannot wound Belmordo.
–You cannot take his soul, abilities, belongings, social status, or items that belong to him.
–You cannot inform anyone about the contents of this conversation with anyone who does not bear a similar enough curse. As of this writing, only Lady Solara applies.
–You cannot order anyone to kill Belmordo.
–If Belmordo dies within twenty-four hours of Adam’s arrival in Gama, Adam will gain all of Belmordo’s Orbs. This cannot be undone, and if this item was somehow removed, the rest of the curse will also come undone.

“Did you think I wouldn’t have the guts, boy – my lord?” Belmordo said, with a wicked grin on his face. “Did you think your bluff would make me back down and allow you to enter the city without a curse? Think again!”

“I thought nothing of the sort.” Adam didn’t so much as blink. “The only thing I thought was that no outcome sounded favorable to me. Killing you would put me at risk and lose the deal with Gama. Walking away would lose it too. Working with you would disgust me to my core. So this is what I choose instead; I’ll play your game, win it, take your Orbs, and secure Vasco's deal. There's no need to compromise when I can have everything I desire.”

And my mind will be at peace. I did warn you, after all.

Belmordo took his quill to the parchment with a sneer, signing his name in flowing letters.

Adam took his quill to the parchment with a smile, signing his name in unembellished print. “Enjoy your last day, Belmordo.”

--

Entering the city of Gama wasn’t too difficult, although it did come at a heavy price. At the very least, his tablet was helpful in reminding him of how much that entrance ticket cost him.

Curse
You are not allowed to kill Belmordo. You are not allowed to inflict physical injury upon Belmordo. You are not allowed to take anything away from him. You cannot use your powers to take his Talent, soul, or anything else from him.

This was the downside to Adam’s little showdown with Aspreay. His ability to trap souls into paintings was uniquely powerful, but there were ways to protect yourself from it, even if you didn’t know exactly how the ability worked.

Well, it had to happen eventually, he reasoned. That’s fine. Can’t be relying on it all the time if I want to survive – no, if I want to live in this world.

Adam probably could have scraped by just using his power when needed. He could have accepted Tenver’s offer to escape Aspreay and never been seen again. He could have saved one or two people, gained their trust, and kept a low profile. But he hadn’t, so here he was. And if he was going to make an effort at this whole ‘living’ business, he certainly wasn’t going to half-ass it.

Not again.

Never again.

To that end, information was vital. Adam drew back the carriage’s curtains. “Quite the city you’ve got here,” he muttered, studying the sights that awaited him outside. “It’s very different from Penumbria.”

“Ah, you have good taste,” Belmordo said, with a smug tone. “Aspreay could never see Gama that way. Always complained about it, said the city looked too dreary for his tastes. Too somber, he claimed! Can you believe that?”

Adam nodded absently. The first word that came to mind upon glimpsing the city...was one he purposefully repressed. The second word that came to his mind was tall. Gama was a city that felt born from stone and carved upwards, each building sliced together from the mountain's heart and rising to graze the sky above. Every turn appeared sharp and unapologetic, so uncaring of aesthetics it became an aesthetic in and of itself, a sort of stern gracefulness to it. The soaring tower that lay at the end of their path was merely a capstone to it all.

He could kind of see why Aspreay despised the city’s look, even when accounting for the former lord’s petty jealousy. For someone who spent their time in Penumbria, with its odd Bavarian-esque architecture of crossed timber and contrasting pale plaster, the greystone houses of Gama would have seemed downright eerie.

Tried as he might, however, Adam couldn’t keep the first word that had come to mind from resurfacing. It was like telling something to avoid thinking of a pink elephant. Inevitably, they would, with the elephant in this case being the word gothic. It perfectly described Gama’s design sensibilities. Sure, the city looked somewhat different from what he'd seen on Earth and in history books, but between the angles, the masonry, and the goddamn arches everywhere, ‘gothic’ fit it to a tee.

And thinking of Gama in that way forced another question to jump to the forefront of his mind.

Why does this medieval fantasy world have architecture that’s straight out of Earth?

In all honesty, Earth hadn’t really occupied his thoughts much lately. At most he’d contemplate the difficulty of returning there somehow, sometimes – only to remember that he didn’t even know how he’d arrived here in the first place. Felt like he was putting the cart before the horse, there.

And even when he did think about Earth, those thoughts would come with the vague admittance that, in truth, there wasn’t much of a reason to go back at all. It wasn’t like anyone would miss him. If he went back, he’d just return to the same shit as before; struggling to pay rent while some smug prick lorded over him. At least here there was a chance that he could make some sort of positive difference. By trapping souls inside his tablet, but hey.

Just wish this place didn’t make it so hard to forget about dear old ‘home.’

“We have arrived, my lord,” Belmordo announced, with a theatrical air. He reached for the door and bowed, gesturing for Adam to leave the carriage first. “The Tower in the Sky – one of the proudest monuments in our grand, beautiful city.”

“And you trapped someone with a monstrous curse there?” Adam asked, his eyebrow raised and voice unimpressed as he stepped outside the carriage. “Seems disrespectful.”

“Tell that to my brother,” Belmordo dryly replied. He followed after Adam, dusting off his suit as he walked. “Vasco turned down my suggestion of the castle’s underground, where we could have kept a closer watch on her. He wanted his daughter confined in a location that was isolated, yet would still provide her with some comfort.”

“You mean the lord rejected the idea of locking his daughter in the dungeons? How absolutely shocking.”

Adam tried to say it in as much of an obvious deadpan as possible. He wasn’t sure if he’d failed, or if the cause behind the city’s blue hue was Belmordo’s denseness bending light around him, because the man replied to it completely seriously. “It is rather vexing, yes. If only he’d listened to me...” Belmordo shook his head. “Nonetheless, Lady Solara agreed to my curse before losing her consciousness, rendering her unable to leave these walls. It is a safe confinement.”

“Why bother with removing her at all, then? Just leave her there forever. She won’t harm anyone.”

Belmordo hesitated, then looked down at the ground. “I...fear we’ve miscalculated slightly. Her curse grows stronger by the day. Mine won’t hold her forever. If she is to tear down the city walls – no, rather, her mere presence might cause the Rot in the city to become unmanageable. We need to contain it. Quickly.”

Debating that point would be a waste of time. Belmordo wanted Solara dead; even if Adam found a way to argue him down from his current justification, the man would just plow ahead and find a new one. Better to just not even try.

Instead, he turned his gaze and attention on the stone tower ahead. It coiled up defiantly, almost like whoever built it was trying to graze the sky itself. The damned thing was taller than most skyscrapers, but only as wide as your average house back on Earth. There was only one solitary opening, a thick set of double-doors after a short set of stone-steps, right at the base of the behemoth of a building.

There were windows, but not on the lower floors. Adam didn’t think it was possible to look into the tower from outside, or that at least it wouldn’t be an easy thing to accomplish.

“Have to say, I planned on spending a few more days before heading inside that tower,” Adam complained. “If it was all the same to you, I would’ve taken a week to prepare myself before heading in. But you’re saying the Hangman is going to be here before then?”

“Yes.” For a moment, Belmordo dropped some of the subservience his rank would have him display. “My lord, may I be so bold?”

“Just speak already.”

“I must ask you again not to take her Talent.”

Adam sighed. “We’ve already had this discussion.”

“I had hoped you would reconsider after having time to think on it. After the sight of what a single Hangman did...”

“Listen,” Adam began, impatiently. “Like you said, the Hangman is gonna be here soon. He’s what, a day or two away? That means I can’t exactly go slow and steady. Gotta get it done ASAP, so stop wasting time I don’t have. Do you have a point you’re trying to make? Because if not, Belmordo, bud...I’m terribly sorry, but I have more important things to attend to.”

Belmordo stuttered out an apology, his expression a mixture of naked shock and pure outrage. No matter what he says about birthright being bullshit, he still thinks I’m more commoner than him, Adam noted. He knows he’s gotta treat me nicely so long as I have my Talent and rank, but that’s as far as it goes.

To his credit, Belmordo recovered fast. “Lord Adam, I only ask that you consider what the Hangman could do to your very heart, to the city of Penumbria. Think of your people, my lord.”

“Penumbria?” Adam repeated. “Why would – ah. I see. Bribery didn’t work, so you’re moving on to threats, is that it?”

“I do not threaten,” Belmordo assuaged, his eyes twinkling with defiance. “However, remember that your takeover of Aspreay’s title was...contentious. If word reaches the Empire before you can make your case to the Emperor...well, Hangmen are known to act independently. They’ve been granted the ability to make quick judgement calls, and are willing to do whatever it takes to preserve the Empire.”

“So if I don’t do what you want, bad things happen?” Adam said, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “Yeah, I suppose that tracks. Even if I save Vasco’s daughter, and he’s inclined to defend me out of gratitude, it won’t matter so long as you speak with the Hangman first.”

“You see then, Lord Adam. My offer is most reasonable: you can refuse to save this woman and gain yourself a powerful ally to your city, at no risk to yourself. Alternatively, you risk gruesome death in order to gain a fierce enemy at little reward. There is only one logical course of action, do you not agree?”

Adam nodded. He had to admit it was hard to argue against that. “You have a point.”

“Fantastic!” Belmordo clasped his hands together. “Shall we embark upon the carriage once more, then? Let us hurry to the castle and drink to our new alliance. The once-commoners who took the title of–”

“Getting a bit ahead of yourself there,” Adam calmly said, pushing Belmordo aside and stalking up the stone steps toward the tower. “Said you had a point, and you do – but I’d still rather die than side with you. Sincerely.”

And with that, he opened the front doors to the tower, walked inside, then shut himself inside with a cursed monster.

Adam barely paid attention to his surroundings as he made his way forward. His mind was still reeling from what he’d just done. Okay, yeah, alright. Sure. Maybe I didn’t have to do that. Maybe there was very little to gain from antagonizing him so much.

After a moment, he shrugged. Felt pretty good though.

There were many things Adam had done since coming to the painted world that he could admit were a tad on the self-destructive side. The way he was throwing himself at challenges and going all-in on things was a worrying trend. This, though?

No regrets.

None whatsoever.

Tenver had said before that, when a person lost everything, sometimes they just wanted to help whoever they could. Adam was close to fitting that bill. He was poor, an enemy to the world, and almost completely alone. It’d made him briefly consider going along with Belmordo’s cruelty, sacrificing his own self-respect for the sake of Penumbria.

Much to his surprise, however, he hadn’t quite lost everything. He still had his pride – and that was worth more than all the Orbs in the world.

If the people of Penumbria depend on me, and it’s my fault that I’m stuck with that responsibility...I’ll make sure they live well. But I’ll do it my way.

With that in mind, he started to actually examine the tower he was in. The ceilings were as high as he’d expected, but they stood out in that they seemed made of lumber rather than the stone that the walls were built out of. A single spiral staircase looped around the center of the room, leading to the next floor.

There were no windows, though. Instead, a bombardment of decoration adorned the interior from top to bottom. He saw ostentatious banners, velvet cloths, shining trinkets, and glittering jewelry hanging from every wall. They were equaled in grandeur by the numerous suits of armor, clutching oversized longswords that Adam knew no human could possibly carry. Well, then again, this was a world of magic, so maybe a Talent–

Wait. Is that...?

Adam reached over toward one suit of armor in particular. While the armor itself looked like the others, it held a shield that stood out. Not only was it a different color from the others – a bright red metal, as if dyed in fresh arterial blood – but it also seemed to pulsate at times, almost like a heartbeat. Is this the Dragonforged Steel that Tenver was talking about? The thing that can’t be destroyed by anything but Rot?

“What a discerning eye you have there,” said a new voice, from above the staircase. “Lord Adam, I presume?”

Raising his gaze, Adam caught sight of a figure largely concealed behind the sweeping banisters. Hints of dark blue and glimmers of gold suggested a grand dress adorned with frills. From that angle, it was difficult to be certain of her looks, but her tone was booming, haughty, and commanding.

“You are correct,” Adam replied, speaking loudly so that it echoed off the walls and reached the distant woman. “I was told no one else is allowed within the tower, so would it be fair to assume that you are Lady Solara?”

“Aye,” she replied, her voice a loud, imposing echo that seemed to hit him from all directions. “Would you care to join me for tea, before one of us dies? It has been terribly lonely here. I’m afraid there are no servants, however, and my upbringing hardly allowed me to become a master of the art.”

“And my upbringing left me unable to discern good tea from the bad. It would be my honor.” Adam reached for the shield and pulled it apart from the armor’s gauntlet. Dear god, that was heavy. He had to wrap some Vines of Stained Ink beneath his sleeves to help hold it forward. “Hope you don’t mind – I’m stealing your expensive shield. For if our tea turns violent.”

Solara’s laughter echoed throughout the tower. It sounded genuine, almost joyous at first, and stretched for a long moment. When it ended, however, it was on a bittersweet note. “Feel free, Lord Adam. You are...odd. Do you always expect your rendezvous with women to result in violence?”

“Not always. Although I did have one turn out to be a serial killer,” he said, absently thinking of Miranda. That hadn’t exactly been his favorite experience. The hospital people were really nice, though. “You’re probably at least a step or two above her.”

The voice hesitated, as if at a loss for what to say. “Should I take that as flattery, Lord Adam?”

“Probably not. Eric always said I was bad at flattering people. I’m just being honest – you’re in a whole different league.” He still couldn’t see Lady Solara’s face. At this point, Adam began making his way up the staircase, bringing the heavy Dragonforged Steel shield with him. Every step seemed to make the metal expand and recoil like a beating heart. “Let’s have your tea. I assume you’re not possessed yet?”

“I have my moments of self-awareness. This is one of them. It won’t last long, but I will not harm you for as long as it does.”

“In that case, should I not prepare to fight you?”

“Mayhap so. But I’d love if you could join me for tea, Lord Adam.”

“Why?”

“Because I have not spoken with anyone for a long time now.” There was no theatrics, noble etiquette, or even a cursory attempt to hide the sadness in her voice. “It’s simply that I...no, banish the thought or take it for a jest. I understand that–”

“Prepare your tea,” Adam said, cutting her off. “I’ll catch up to you.”

Hefting the red, dense shield, Adam began his ascent up the tower’s spiral staircase. Each step seemed to make the shield vibrate rhythmically, pulsating against the grip of his Stained Vines. His other hand traced along the stone cold bannister, providing balance against the unusual weight he now bore. It was a slow ride, and he heard the woman move further into the room as he approached the top. Not only was the weight of his shield a problem, the surrounding heat made it feel as though he were ascending into hell.

So many torches... Sweat beaded on Adam’s forehead as he struggled to climb. Never thought about how goddamn warm a room full of torches would be when I was reading up on medieval times. I guess it’s necessary, considering there’s no windows. You couldn’t see anything otherwise.

Finally, he reached Solara’s room. As befitting of a noble in harsh captivity, her abode was both stately and disheveled. Despite being furnished with luxury, most of the furniture was broken, a token effort made to sweep dirt and debris into one corner. And while the room was very spacious, it was clearly too big for a single person to clean properly, with dust coating much of the surface.

Most concerning of all were the numerous bloodstains, half-faded yet ever-present. Remnants of those who tried to fight the Curse died, Adam reasoned. I’ll take that as a warning to be careful.

One piece of furniture stood out amongst the others. It was an extremely long, rectangular table with a glass tea set laid out on top, striking in its elegance. Just two chairs were set out, distanced so far apart from each other that Adam thought he’d be forced to raise his voice in order for Solara to hear him.

He turned to look at the woman – only for his breath to be taken away. Behind her and around her were the brightest torches Adam had seen since coming to this world, burning a fire so red that even her pale skin seemed scarlet beneath it. The Three Torches were imposing, bright, and in near-complete sync with each other, flames dancing and swirling in tune with each other to the beat of an inaudible song.

And then there was the woman.

Since coming to this world, Adam had seen many nobles up to now, men and women alike. He thought he’d known what to expect from the heiress to the city of Gama; that she would look like one of the women from Aspreay’s court, if maybe dressed a little more ostentatiously due to her wealth and her city’s prosperity.

He’d been wrong.

Solara was dressed in the dark blue dress he had caught hints of from the bottom of the stairwell earlier, but upon closer inspection the golden adjournments were few and relatively modest. The fabric of the dress itself appeared not unlike what he’d see among the commoners who knelt down before Aspreay to petition for help. Though she wore jewelry, it seemed relatively inexpensive, just small stones on a single ring and each earring.

Even so, there was an air of distinguished nobility about it – about her. True, the dress was common, but it was impeccably clean. Sure, the jewelry was cheap, but it matched both the cloth and her disposition perfectly. And her face...

“Beautiful,” Adam said plainly. When he realized the words had left his lips, he considered them. I could try to play it off. Which seemed silly. He might die at any moment, why bother? Might as well be honest. “I haven’t seen anyone that beautiful since Tenver.” Okay, maybe a bit too honest.

But she did look as beautiful as him, and her face stood out as so oddly symmetrical. It almost looked like it had been painted, or carefully put together by some master craftsman. Most people would have found it off-putting, Adam knew. Her golden hair went past her shoulders, but it was cut evenly and precisely as if not a single strand was allowed to go beyond another. She had a penetrating sort of gaze, the harsh stare that felt as sharp and pointed as her ears. Solara looked at him with bright, wide eyes that were as golden as her hair, studying him carefully, her pale skin seeming ghostly beneath the faint torchlight that illuminated the room.

After a moment of silence, she laughed. “As beautiful as Lord Tenver? Now, that is flattery. Tales of his beauty have reached even the capital...if my spies are to be believed.”

That seemed like a little much, but Adam had no idea whether the woman was serious or not. He took a seat across from her, placed his shield on top of the table, and leaned against his backpack. “You were expecting me?”

“I was. My father informed me through a raven. He mentioned finding another fool who would die trying to undo my curse.”

“That would be correct, yes. But I don’t plan on dying.” Adam sipped at the tea. It was a little bitter for his taste, but frankly he was thankful for the drink. “This is really good. Don’t sell yourself short – it’s equal to any tea I had in Penumbria.”

“You damn me with faint praise, my lord.”

Adam smiled apologetically. “Forgive my bluntness, but I was told you weren’t in control of your curse.”

“I am not.”

“How long do we have to enjoy this cup of tea?”

“Perhaps five minutes. You have poor timing – I usually have a few hours after waking up. I should warn you against attacking me before I transform, as it tends to make the curse more violent and affords you no real advantage.”

Five minutes. That wasn’t nearly long enough to learn everything about her. It had taken six months for him to figure out Aspreay to the point where Adam could steal the late Lord’s Talent. Even if he could lessen the amount of information he needed by gambling his Talents, that wasn’t going to be sufficient. It was already difficult to truly grasp what made someone tick – what made them who they were – without being limited to a single brief conversation.

With that in mind, he withdrew his tablet from his backpack. Adam paused, taking the time to give her an extended, inquisitive look.

Solara perked up. “Ah, I see. Lord Adam, are you drawing a portrait of me?”

“Yes. Assuming you don’t mind.”

“No. Go ahead, my lord. My father did mention in his letter that this is how you would free me from my curse. Is that what you are attempting right now?”

Adam looked up from his tablet to shake his head at her. “No.” He moved his head back to his tablet, sketching her with fast motions. “That was my initial plan, but thanks to Belmordo, I don’t have as much preparation as I thought I would.”

“Then what are you doing?”

Once more, Adam peered up from his tablet, this time clearly annoyed. “I’m painting a portrait of you. We established this. Now, if you don’t mind, could you not move so much? I’m already not great at quick sketches, and you aren’t making this any easier.”

“We...did establish that, yes. But if you cannot take away my curse, then why...?”

"You look unique,” Adam said, nonchalantly. “Your dress is a nice shade of blue, and that combined with the fire flickering behind you is creating a really interesting shade. The fabric is reflective enough that there’s some blue on your face, but at the same time, the fire is so intense and bright. You don’t usually see something so...saturated, in person. Usually red and blue scenes are more muted, closer to an orange and very light blue, almost gray sort of contrast.”

His excitement rose as he spoke. “This though? It’s different. I want to capture it, even if it’s just a sketch. As long as I get the general idea down now, I can always iterate upon it later. Then it should remind me of what I had in mind when the idea first came to me, you know?”

“No, I...am afraid I do not know. At all.” The regality in Solara’s voice was replaced by a note of full confusion. “I’m terribly sorry, my lord, but am I to understand you mean to spend those minutes painting for the sake of painting?”

“And why not? Doing art for its own purpose is much more meaningful than giving it some idiotic justification.” Adam found himself grinning from ear to ear. This was the first time he’d felt like painting something after the incident with Aspreay. Thankfully, he hadn’t been burnt out by those six months of hellish work. In this moment, he wasn’t worrying about budgets or politics or betrayals – he was just painting.

God, it felt good. “I think when you do something you love for no reason at all...that’s where true art is.”

“I see.” Solara paused, contemplating his words. “So what you are saying, my lord, is that you are insane.”

Adam shrugged, his desire to think of a comeback supplanted by his desire to get the color palette just right. Maybe if I play with the opacity a little – no, can’t. Not enough time. Just gonna sketch out the fire on a different layer, I can adjust the opacity and blending modes later to see what I like.

If only he had a camera; he could’ve at least taken a reference picture. Hopefully this area wouldn’t be destroyed in the upcoming fight. Would be nice to paint it too. The Three Torches were incredible at providing just the right kind of lighting!

“May I ask a question, my lord?”

Adam switched from one layer to another, vaguely cursing and resorting to vector layers so he could correct the lines later. “Yes, what is it?”

“You called me beautiful and spoke at length about the fire, about the sight before you.”

It was getting harder to focus. Time limits were annoying enough, and Adam hated short sketches, but this was too much. “Yes, what of it?” he grunted through his teeth.

“Are you not – are you not going to comment on my ears?”

“Hmm?” Adam peered over his tablet again. He narrowed his eyes, grunted, and returned to drawing. How much time did he have left? Maybe a minute before she started trying to kill him? “Not really.” If anything, he was half-considering covering them with her hair in the picture to keep them from being distracting. It wasn’t he was going for an accurate portrait, this was more of a stylistically–

“Adam—Lord Adam—my lord—you stupid bastard, are you actually serious?!” Solara’s voice sounded different now. Nearly all of its regality had vanished, and whatever was left had combined with a sense of indignant outrage.

Yet, somehow, it sounded far more honest than what it was before. “Are you not going to question me about my heritage? About why I bear elven ears when my father, Lord Vasco, does not?”

“Later. I’m running short on time here,” Adam snapped back, as if he meant his words as an insult. “Your hidden lineage sounds like a tomorrow problem.”

He paused. “I suppose that’s why we didn’t have much information on Lord Vasco’s daughter, though, and why Belmordo isn’t afraid of losing noble support if he kills you. And – damnit, look!” Adam complained. “Look what you did! You got me thinking about politics when–”

Solara rose from the table.

Then, she kept rising.

Not only did she stand up, but her feet ceased touching the ground, her body ascending forward suddenly and hastily, as if pulled by an invisible set of strings. Solara’s eyes went wide, her mouth gaped open, arms snapping away, swirling independently from each other. Adam met her gaze for a moment, but though their eyes crossed paths, he knew there was nothing inside there anymore.

In one motion, the woman held up in the air by invisible strings turned her back first, and then her neck. Her head faced towards Adam, having turned around at an angle that no living human could endure. An inhuman sound came from her throat, a sort of forbidden music that pained Adam’s ears and shattered the glass teacups on the table. Even her hands changed, her fingers growing longer like vines, her nails sharpening into claws.

Adam sighed. He stowed his tablet in his backpack, placed it in a secluded corner, and picked up the shield. His Stained Vines swirled around him, his heartbeat racing fast as the Dragonforged Steel pulsated.

“I suppose this will have to do,” he muttered. “She puts on airs of nobility, has some deep insecurity regarding her heritage, and from how natural the words ‘stupid bastard’ sounded when they came out of her mouth, probably wasn’t raised a noble.” He grimaced. “Fucking hell, this would be a hell of a lot easier if Vasco told me more before sending me here.”

A shivering cold invaded the windowless room. It was like an invisible breeze, blowing Adam’s hair away from his face as if he’d styled it to point skyward.

“It isn’t much to work with...but if it comes down to it, maybe it might be enough to gamble on the painting. Should I do that, or...?”

“You are not from this world.”

The shrieks coming from inside Solara – it seemed rude to even think of this possession as her – had converged into a single, shivery voice that seemed closer to the sound of blocks of ice colliding than human speech. Yet Adam understood its words, and listened carefully. “And I thought I was just here to play thief...looks like this is going to be relevant to my interests,” Adam said softly, then shouted, “what do you know about me?”

“Are you from the World of Ink?” Every word, every whisper, sounded like an indefinable that music humans were not meant to hear. Adam felt his breath catching, his knees threatening to give in, and even his eyesight blurred for a moment. He spread his Stained Vines under his clothes to force his legs into an upright position.

“I am from Earth.”

“Ah...the World of Ink...have you come here to offer...your...ink?”

Adam narrowed his eyes and spread the vines evenly to his every limb, preparing for whatever was to come. Keep your breaths short. Stay calm. Losing your shit won’t help here. “I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I said I mostly work digitally?” What does it know about me? What does it mean? Have to–

“Give me your INK!”

It attacked.

--

Thanks for reading!