Staring at the boy in front of him, who acted so uptight and desperate, only made him want to tease him all the more. He had the self-realization that he was being an asshole but believed a little humor wouldn’t kill anyone.

Unless he tried to, of course.

Which he believed might come sooner than later if the letter he had received was to be believed. He had expected a mere viscountcy to be much easier than how things turned out.

And the reason for all of it could very likely be the lad sitting in front of him. It amused him how unstable life really could be. One instance he felt everything under control, and in the next?

‘The bleakness of life, overcome by death. And the freedom of death, chained by life.’ His master had said it how long ago? He couldn’t remember, but he still liked to think about him and his words.

It wasn’t one he completely agreed with, but one he found more and more sympathizing with as he grew in age and strength. Only a few things start to matter and yet he cherished his life too much to die.

He still had goals, responsibilities, and questions to ask. Perhaps he’s a coward for fearing death, but he has embraced that part of his life long ago.

So learning of the new complications, although troubled him, didn’t dampen his mood. In fact, an event like this might just burn the last cinders of his potential to give him something he had been seeking forever.

A final question for the end.

And to that end, he was very much willing to set this youngster’s path ablaze so he might light the canvas in a never-before-seen splendor.

Of course, if he could survive this city.

“The militaristic explanation or the bookish one you’d ever find is the path the empire wants you on. The one where you are shackled by your own powers and hence the military. It’s a perfectly set system of give and take which has allowed this empire to fish super-soldiers who would not grow enough to jump out of their pond.” He started his explanation.

“What is the give and take here? The guy who inducted me didn’t tell me about any benefits.” Conor asked.

Agak realized how cut off the boy had been from the world of Artists and how little information had been through to him. His brothers probably wanted to suppress his growth and keep him clueless for as long as they could.

He wouldn’t be surprised if the military is ordered to isolate him as much as he could. A perfectly reasonable strategy.

“The Artists would give their loyalty and strength to the noble houses, while the houses would give them ways to expedite their assimilation to the Canvas.” He explained.

“What do you mean by assimilation?” Conor frowned at the word.

“If I recall correctly, earlier this morning, you were escorted by two older Artists to your manor?” Conor flinched at his question. Rightfully so since his room was in a pretty isolated region and not many should’ve seen his travel. Especially not enough to know it was him.

“You don’t expect to not ring the bells of every Artist in this city by that kinda stunt, do you?” He asked, rhetorically.

“I guess you are right… yes, it was me.” Conor relented.

“Do tell me, what do you think their behavior was like?”

“They were… eccentric.” Conor tried, careful not to say anything too rude. “They had a way of mixing things up in an abstract way such that everything just fell apart.”

“And you must have guessed what their specialties were right?”

“Are they Abstract Artists?” Conor asked, a hint of recognition in his eyes.

“Yes they were, and as you can understand now, assimilation does that to you. You get assimilated into the canvas and forever become it. You can call them spawns of the canvas or rejects, but the fact remains that they are no longer their own person.

“They are nothing but a live representation of their concepts. Up for any house to use for themselves freely.

“As for why anyone would wanna go through this? This is something you’d understand the first time you access your powers. The impossible feeling of misery and endless desperation is something I will never forget.

“And in their desperate struggle for quick relief and ignorance, they make the deal with the devil. Honestly, I don’t think they even know what they are getting signed up for.

“The effects of assimilation are subtle and by the time you notice the change, you are already past the red line.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Normally for a human being to be assimilated with the canvas is impossible in their lifetimes. But the houses, being noble as they are, have found ways to expedite the process, all reliant on a game of contribution. And that is the life you’d be forced to go through if you were to go through this process.” He finished speaking as he looked at the youngster frowning in deep thought.

Conor looked straight at him yet Agak knew he wasn’t looking at him. It was a weird habit Agak thought better not to remind him about.

“That… was a lot to think about.” Conor finally said after 5 minutes of staring at Agak. “It sounds like a real strong-exploiting-the-needy kinda tale, don’t you think?”

“It does. But is it that black and white?”

“No… it’s not.” Conor sighs. “Both parties gain what they want. And it’s not like Artists cannot stop feeling the misery. They just go in for their greed and the houses make use of their greed. Both parties win here. Although who really knows how true that is.”

“Truly, what lengths people can go for a smudge of strength is truly something.”

“Although,” Conor started, he looked a little angry “Why can’t the houses reveal this method if it’s really so good? I’m sure they know of it!”

“Alas,” Agak sighed as he continued “Only if you knew the consequence of reaching a higher stage of power you’d understand. It’s horrifying, downright cursed for civilization.”\

“Why is it? You must know about it, right? Why can’t you tell me?”

“I can’t because it’s not my place to. Anything I say more than you are entitled to would only hamper your future potential. Only time shall speak.”

“If that is so, then be it. So what is it? How can I escape the fate of not being me anymore?” Conor asked.

“It is the path discovered almost three thousand years ago. When the vaults themselves came to form, they came with an edict. A slate said to be born from the Canvas itself, it cursed everyone who saw it to a life of mediocrity. But it also blessed the future generations ‘cause it also enabled us on this sacred path.

“It was called the ’Seer’s Tale’.

“The myth says it came with knowledge of profound intensity and introspective nature, yet only a single question. No one knows what the question is, but it was what helped us set up the Path of Questions to understand ourselves and the canvas.

“I can’t say why it’s the way it is, or why it even matters, the only thing I can assure you is, if you travel far enough on this path, you’ll get answers to all your questions. “

- - - * - - -

‘Damn, that was more than I expected. The military really knows jack compared to him huh….’ I wondered as I reeled from the sudden overdose of information. It was much more human and more ancient than I anticipated.

‘What happened to mass sacrificial rituals for power!!?’ I mused internally, but obviously, I prefer this.

‘But I guess it does suit an Artist more doesn’t it? Lost in their selves, introspecting the nature of life itself rather than take swords in the throats of men. Quite poetic.’ I liked it more, although it filled me with doubts.

Though…. “Why is it called a ’Seer’s tale’ ? What does looking in the future have to do with any of it?” I asked, more curious about that than anything.

“Perhaps only someone who has seen it, or someone who has reached the last stage knows of it. I am still far from it.” He replied, his tone melancholic.

“How many stages are there?” I asked.

“You cannot, and you shall not know of it. Always remember this Conor, never ever ask them of the stages or the questions you shouldn’t. Some knowledge has the power to ruin your path. You’d never be able to walk on this path ever again.” He said sternly, his complexion hardening for the first time and I knew not to fuck with this.

“Okay…. So Path of Question huh? So what’s my first question?” I asked, finally coming to the main part.

“Your first question would be ‘Why?’” He said, and I swear I saw his smirk increase a bit as my eyes squinted.

“Why?”

“‘Why?’!”

“Just why?”

“Just ‘why’!”

“Are you sure?” I asked, stupefied.

“Am I sure whether the first question is ‘Why’? Yes, I am very sure.” He smirked, even wider now.

“What am I supposed to why even? I can’t just go around why-ing everything! C’mon, stop messing around!” I almost cried, all decorum to waste as the man in front of me exploded into laughter.

“Okay okay, I’ll stop messing around. The question is, ‘Why do you wanna draw?’“ He finally said it.

“Why do I wanna draw? Isn’t it 'cause I find it fun and interesting?” I wondered and it felt alright to me. I drew ‘cause I’ve loved it ever since I was a kid. It helped me take off stress and lose myself in a world of my own creations. Isn’t that a good enough answer?

“Truly, but sadly enough for you, this is not a subjective test. There is only one correct answer and only when your heart is set on the right answer would you gain the recognition.”

“Recognition of whose?”

“Can’t say.”

‘Ah for fuck’s sake man.’ I cried as I almost threw my hand in the air.

“To be honest,” the priest said “This is, statistically speaking, the easiest question as most of the ones can answer it in due time. Hope you don’t take too long though.

“Anyway, that’s enough of me for tonight. You should go home and digest everything I’ve told you tonight. And remember, when you get it, and I know you will, only ask the clues for the next one from someone you trust.” He said with a grave tone.

I nodded at him and thanked him for his guidance, and left his place.

‘Path of Questions huh…’ Truly worthy of its name. I have more questions than when I came here and to think I have barely fucking started. Only time shall know how many await me

- - - - * - - - -