Penumbria's new lord wanted nothing more than to rest. It had been a long day–a long 92 days–a long life. Whatever danger he might subject himself to by falling asleep was worth it. As far as he was concerned, nothing was going to keep him from a well-deserved rest.

'Nothing' fell short of 'no one,' however.

"I have organized an honor guard for your parade," Tenver said, in the same jovial tone he'd used countless times before. "It will let the common folk put a face to the whispers about to set every tavern in the Empire ablaze. Give them reason to hope, rather than dread."

Adam winced, but could admit the logic of it. His takeover wouldn't be received without opposition. He was already expecting heavy resistance from the nobles whose purses he fully intended to plunder. Better to claim the hearts of the commoners he actually wished to help before they were misled by false news.

"Fine," he muttered, lifting his head from the pillow. "We'll go...we'll go now."

"Do you not wish to change your attire, my lord?" Tenver thoughtfully asked. "Your current state of dress may not impress the common folk."

The Painter glanced down at his stained working clothes, then shook his head. "No. I don't want them to see me as just any other lord. Ideally, I'd like them to see me as part of 'us' not 'them', if you catch my meaning."

"Most wise, my lord." Tenver nodded and began moving for the door. "Do you have any requests?"

"Only one." Adam raised an eyebrow. "Tell me why you appear entirely unconcerned that your painter friend committed severe treason and usurped the title from the lord you serve under."

"Because my painter friend is a better lord than Aspreay, for one." Tenver tilted his head, then relaxed into an affable, disarming smile. "Do I need more reason than that?"

If you'd asked me that before Eric, I would have said no. Now...

"Yes," Adam firmly replied. "You very much do."

Tenver paused for a moment before laughing. "Well, that's fair, isn't it? If you must know...on some level, I'm not entirely surprised over what transpired."

"And why is that?"

"My lord, although one day you will have both, today you can only choose one: my loyalty or my honesty." Tenver's voice grew lower. "Which one would you prefer?"

Tension flared up in Adam's veins like a sudden shot of caffeine, banishing away his drowsiness. This, he knew, would be one of the most important decisions he would make as Lord of Penumbria.

Should he trust Tenver?

He's been hiding something ever since I met him...but without him, I wouldn't have had the chance to steal Aspreay's position or Talent. Adam closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. It's not as if I haven't already been gambling with my life the moment I chose to call myself lord. Timid half-measures won't help me when I've already rolled the dice. . And I have no allies here – might as well tentatively play along with the closest thing I have to a friend.

This didn't mean he trusted Tenver, though. It hadn't escaped Adam's notice that Tenver was the only one in the Throne Room who wouldn't kneel to him. Did the guard think that they were close enough friends to forsake rank? Unlikely, in this world. Then what...

Stop, Adam admonished himself. At this point, any further guesswork would be based on incomplete information. I need more details – and more importantly, sleep – before I can say anything for certain.

"Let's get going," Adam announced, his words muffled by exhaustion. "The sooner we get through this, the better."

--

His intentions to avoid fully engaging with his duties were soon murdered quite ruthlessly. In total, there were three killers responsible for this most heinous of crimes.

First was the murderer named 'Fresh Air.'

How long had it been since he'd breathed in the scent of the outdoors? Adam liked to think of himself as a recluse, but the moment his open-carriage set forth into the city, a gentle breeze passed through his face and left a wide smile in its wake.

I should make a point to be outside more often, he thought. This is...nice. Even if I had to commission five new paintings, I feel like it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, anymore.

Second was the multi-faced murderer titled 'Hopeful Faces.'

Evidently, although some word of his usurping had gotten out, most didn't believe it until setting eyes upon him. As Adam rode through Penumbria, the ever-changing crowd went through a continuous cycle of emotions. First they would look at him in disbelief. Then, their gazes would fall down to the Lordly carriage, as if to confirm this man was truly their new lord. Then they would look at his stained, heavily worn clothes with surprise, but also joy.

And lastly, amidst their cheers...they would beg.

"Milord, my family needs more Orbs, our heating–

"Milord, please, my son is starving–

"–Tis my mum, she's knocking on death's door right now–"

"–Even when I make bread, no one can afford it–"

That last one caught his attention most of all. It was the same baker that Tenver bought those pastries from when Adam had been arrested. Even he appeared to be struggling to make a living; enough to desperately cry out to his new lord for a hopeless chance at salvation.

Then there was the third and final murderer. The one who united this gang of killers.

It went by the name of Rot.

While Adam had been led through the poverty-stricken, tumorous side of Penumbria on his first day here, now he could see that even the relatively wealthier side of the city was not free of corruption. Cobblestone surfaces occasionally transformed into a distorted version of itself, permanently wet with dark, blotted liquid. Anyone nearby would break out into a cough fit, as if wracked by sudden sickness.

"Tenver," Adam asked, in a low voice. "Is there anything we can do to keep the Rot from advancing?"

"Once it's rotten, we must burn it down to ashes, lest it infect more of the world." Tenver's response was delivered in a calm, almost jovial tone, but Adam noticed how the guard clenched his fist. "Most of it is only Stained, however. Part of the Rot as it might be, Halfwood keeps it at bay."

Adam glared at him expectantly. Explain, his gaze said.

To the man's credit, he obeyed. "The Empire controls the world's largest – if not only – reserve of Halfwood, and we burn through it often. Some folk cannot afford to replace the Halfwood inside their walls." Tenver gestured towards a blot of dark ink located on the side of a house. "Then it starts to spread."

"People can't afford it," Adam muttered slowly, his own fist clenching tightly. "And when they can, it robs them of the means to afford anything else. Food. Clothes."

"Winter always comes," Tenver replied solemnly. "The cold cares not whether you spent your Orbs on idle feasts, or on protecting your home itself from falling prey to the worst of diseases. More people meet their death in our city than are born in it. Only a continual influx of freshly-banished malcontents keeps our population somewhat stable."

Adam found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the rot – stains – on the city. Especially after realizing how little note the common folk appeared to give it. To them, the blotted ink that heralded their death was an ordinary facet of life. "What happens when someone lives inside a place that has Rotted too much?"

"They fall sick and die," Tenver said promptly, but not callously. "If they're lucky."

"And if they're not?"

"Then they become like the monsters that attacked you." His voice was grave. "More commonly, the guards are in charge of...executing them, to prevent their transformation from happening. It's a slow enough progression that we rarely miss it. We cannot afford to miss it."

That was why Aspreay seemed so concerned about an infected man potentially entering his city. If Adam had been infected by the Rot – in a regular fashion – he would've been a walking bomb, a virus that might very well have destroyed half the city.

It's not enough to justify the other things Aspreay did, Adam thought angrily. Too angrily. Even if they're trying to limit the spread of Rot...this is just delaying the inevitable. Sooner or later, Penumbria will fall apart.

"Is there anything we can do to stop it?" Adam asked, his voice still low. He waved to the common folk and put on a forced smile, as if there was reason to celebrate. "Is the Rot this bad across the rest of the Empire as well?"

"Not in every region," Tenver admitted. "Those that have the Orbs for it can afford to use the Empire's inventions to stave off Rot – albeit not banish it away entirely. Unfortunately, the Eastern Frontier has had to contend with the two Ghosts for years. Their very existence worsens the Rot and strangles our economy"

Adam looked at him expectedly, silent asking for another explanation. The guard reeled back slightly. Though used to the painter's apparent memory issues, he still expressed an occasional bout of shock over Adam's ignorance.

Better this way. If he underestimates me, it'll be easier to spot a betrayal.

"Odd existences, those Ghosts," Tenver added, after a pause. "Even for Stained monsters." The word 'Stained' still appeared unfamiliar to him, as if Aspreay's ban on the word remained entrenched in his mind. "While the Rot spreads everywhere of its own volition, their mere presence exponentially worsens the plague. The Empire has concluded that two of them haunt the eastern regions: the Ghost of Flames, and the Ghost of Waters. We know precious little aside from their general location, however."

Which meant that ridding the world of Ghosts would alleviate the Rot, somewhat. Problem was, Adam couldn't very well ask all the hopeful faces he'd met to sit back and wait as he hunted down legends he wasn't even sure he could kill. I need to focus on changes I can reasonably make, here and now.

"We'll change the castle's spending policies first thing tomorrow," Adam told Tenver. "Feasts, foreign troupes – gone. Other luxuries will go shortly after, as soon as we can quantify them. It won't be enough to help people buy all the Halfwood they need...but it's a start."

He nodded. "If we can save even a dozen people by cutting down on pointless expenditures, it'll be well worth it."

Adam sent a measuring look at his guard. If Tenver was going to object to these drastic measures, now would be the time.

Instead, he found a warm smile on the man's face. "My lord, that would be the most wonderful–"

"–Deranged plan I've ever heard!" Captain-Lord Inacio said, breaking off from formation and riding up beside them. Evidently, he had been eavesdropping. "My lord, you can't possibly be serious! The nobility will not stand for such indignity! You mean to rob them of their few pleasures?"

Until now, Adam had kept his voice low. Partially out of shock over what he was witnessing, and partially to keep the common folk from hearing – and spreading – any passing thoughts he might voice to Tenver.

Captain-Lord Inacio, meant to lead the honor guard for the parade, exhibited far less concern. He had boldly rode up in front of Adam, forcibly bringing the parade to a screeching halt, then shouted his objection so that it was heard by all in attendance.

He wants this argument to be as public as possible, Adam reasoned. Inacio wants word of this to reach other lords. To start a faction against me.

Having stolen Aspreay's Lord Talent, Adam was now virtually unkillable. However, that didn't mean other nobles had no room to argue. While some were useless, others held a vice grip on parts of Penumbria's failing economy. He expects me to back down here, to compromise...and to lose the public's favor.

Altogether, it was a reasonable move. Adam was an usurper with little in the way of supporters. He'd expected this much.

Which didn't mean he would play along with this farce.

"When you refer to the 'nobility' not standing for such indignity," Adam began, dryly and loudly. "Do you include yourself in that statement, Lord-Captain Inacio?"

Inacio was a Lord by title, not by Talent. He didn't have Aspreay's –now Adam's – Talent of near-omnipotence inside the Realm. His face flushed slightly, but he refused to back down.

"Your proposal is more than rude – it is self-sabotage of your rule," the lord-captain cautioned. "Aspreay was not altogether well-liked. If you heed my word, then perhaps you can avoid suffering the same fate."

"Strange," Adam said, raising an eyebrow. You stand here, demanding that I continue wasteful spending, cautioning me of Aspreay's fate...that I inflicted upon him for not caring enough about his people."

He fixed Inacio with a steely gaze. "Who do you think will punish me for ensuring that people live to see the next sunrise?"

Murmurs passed through the crowd. In that moment, rumors were birthed that could never be silenced.

Inacio must have felt this, because he said, "My lord, all I ask is that you be reasonable! Even the common folk must agree that–"

"My decision has been made," Adam shouted, loudly enough that everyone in the crowd could hear him. "The nobility will have most of their luxuries stripped until we know for certain that our people will not perish to starvation, cold, or Rot. Disagree with me if you must."

"My lord, I will disagree!" Inacio shouted. "If you cannot see reason–"

His hand went to his sword.

For the first time, Adam's Lord Talent flared up.

Although he knew little of its workings, some of the Talent's intricacies flew into his brain, information and experience adapting as if it had always been his. Reality itself became Adam's subject as he laid down an absolute order.

"Arise, Inacio."

There was no need for the words to reflect the specifics of his command. Adam's heart knew what he wanted, and thus his Lordship Talent willed it into existence for him.

Just like Aspreay had done once before, Adam lifted up Inacio in the air, as if an invisible hand had pulled him off his horse and now held him up.

"We're inside my Realm," Adam said, with an unyielding tone. "My word is law. You would do well to remember that."

"Y–yes, my lord–I–I'm sorry, p-p-please!" Inacio reached his own neck with both hands, trying to break away from the grip of reality itself. "P-please! I beg you! T-the common folk will have everything they need! I will donate Orbs from my personal collection! I–"

"Good."

Adam let go, maintaining an icy stare that did not betray the racing of his heart. It was good that Inacio hadn't pressed him further. He wasn't sure what he would've done if his bluff had been called.

I don't know if I have what it takes to outright kill someone, he mused. What he'd done to Aspreay wasn't the same as that. Painting his portrait had felt...disconnected, in a magic-fantasy-world sort of way. He hadn't needed to swing a sword, pull a trigger, or dirty his own two hands.

Probably couldn't handle killing someone in cold blood like that. It's one thing to hate a guy – and I definitely hate people like Inacio. But even so...I don't know if I can muster up the ability to just...murder.

Not yet, anyhow.

In either case, it wouldn't be necessary. His show of force had accomplished more than death could ever. The crowd cheered, the captain cowered, and Tenver nodded approvingly.

"Hey," Adam said to his guard, "let's head back to the castle. We've got work to do."

There was plenty of unpleasantness ahead, he knew. But if he dared to interfere with the course of Penumbria's future...the least he could do was to give it his very best.

--

Author's Note:

This second new chapter takes place right after Adam meets Belmordo (the curse / contract guy), but before he enters Solara's tower. Considering how important to the story Ferrero and Valeria ended up being, we wanted them to be introduced before the murder-mystery-airship arc. This also lets Adam (and the reader) briefly explore a town outside of Penumbria before things kick off again.

--

At a glance, Adam understood the differences between Gama and Penumbria before even properly entering the city itself. There's way more than just a gate at the entrance. Guess that's what money buys you.

He hadn't expected the sheer number of security protocols involved with entering the city, but in hindsight, it made sense. After all, they wanted the Rot plague kept out of their cities no matter what.

It was a sensible rule – that would rapidly transform into a massive problem if anyone ever caught sight of his Stained Ink.

Even so, Adam considered, as he stepped into the examination room. I would have assumed that lords would be spared the indignity of being searched. Although the rich and powerful had a way of avoiding consequences, enough cities had fallen due to misuse of this privilege that even the most arrogant of lords enforced the rule.

A young woman bowed elegantly before him. It was a courtesy usually performed by men, he noted, but it didn't seem out of place on her. If anything, she was more stylish than Adam thought he would've been able to pull off.

"My name is Valeria, my lord," the woman began. "I'll be in charge of the inspection today."

He nodded. Really hoping you're bad at your job. "I am Lord Adam Arcanjo of Penumbria." Using Aspreay's last name made his skin crawl, but he bit his lip and endured it regardless. Stealing his throne I don't mind, but claiming to be his son just feels...wrong. "It's a pleasure to visit this fine city of Gama."

"Have you been searched for Rot before, my lord?" Valeria asked. She had short hair, he could discern precious little of her face. She wore a three-point hat with gray feathers protruding off the left side, which tipped over her eyes to shadow her features. "It is a quick process, I assure you."

"I have not," Adam admitted, slipping off his coat. "But you have no reason to worry – I will comply with your instructions."

"Splendid!" she exclaimed, in a tone that could have been either genuinely earnest or a parody of it. Adam wasn't sure which. "Undress, then. We have to make sure you exhibit no outward signs of the Rot...and that you aren't a Puppet."

Adam had heard enough about Puppets to have a general idea of what they were. A humanoid, maybe artificial race, who were seemingly quite disliked by the general Imperial population. He was still rather light on the details, though, and this was as good of a chance as any to hunt for intel. "Can you tell if someone is a Puppet?" he asked.

"Well, my lord, if they are in fact a first generation Puppet, I'd prove quite the incompetent Inspector if I failed to notice their wooden skin." She chuckled. "When it comes to newer Puppets, the process is quite trickier. We can't really tell the difference unless we open them up and search for their Core. Did you know the more recent Puppets still retain functioning human organs, my lord?"

"I did not," Adam admitted. His ignorance was true enough, but he hoped his tone did not convey the full extent of it. A wrong move on his part could end up him with gracing their surgeon's table, picked apart and examined so they could illuminate the mystery of the painter Lord with the Stained arm.

From context, I imagine she means that Puppets don't actually need their human organs to survive. In which case... "Why do they keep them, do you know?"

She shrugged. "It simply looks natural, I think. Otherwise we could tell who is or isn't a Puppet just by checking if their blood is still flowing." Valeria barked out a low laugh. "Despicable creatures, aren't they?"

Agreeing was the safe answer. Too safe. Adam wanted to make a point of having his fair share of controversial opinions here and there, lest his answers seem too prepared. "I wouldn't know," he replied. "I haven't met one before." It was the truth, which helped.

"Is that so?" Valeria's voice sounded surprised, devoid of any of the dry playfulness that had suffused her tone until now. "I must admit, my lord, that your answer surprises me greatly. If you did meet a Puppet who seemed every bit the monster that our stories make them out to be, I presume your opinion would change?"

He considered the point. A part of him wanted to agree, and it would have been safe to do so. But the pedant in him insisted otherwise. "Then I'd then believe that the one Puppet I met was an awful person. Hardly enough information to say anything else, yes?"

"Mayhap so, my lord." Valeria paused. "In any case, we do have several tests to conduct in order to check your humanity. If you wouldn't mind undressing yourself...of course, a male examiner can be arranged at your request, my lord."

Wonder if that option would be offered to most travelers, or just nobility. He shook his head. "I don't really care," he stated. "I am a painter. Anatomy doesn't unnerve me."

That was a half-truth at best. Some artists were quite liberal with nudity for one reason or another, but he wasn't really one of them. With that said, he didn't particularly mind it much either way, and just wanted to finish the inspection as quickly as possible.

Might be the one time I'll think this, but I kinda wish they gave lords special treatment so I could skip the search. Not because of the invasiveness of the test – but because he wasn't sure he could pass it. He was infected by the Rot, wasn't he? Sort of? Or did stealing the soul of that monster not 'count', exactly?

If it comes down to it, I can always run.

"What would happen if I were a Puppet?" Adam offhandedly asked, in what he considered to be a casual tone. He pulled his shirt over his head as he spoke. "Or infected with Rot?"

Valeria watched him put away the last of his clothes without diverting her gaze, only responding when he'd finished. "If you were a Hybrid Puppet, then it would depend on how many of your limbs were replaced by Puppetry. Most likely people would merely send hateful glares your way. But if you were a Nexus..."

She paused. "That would be different. I suppose we would have to act per the Emperor's laws and punish you as if you were Rotten."

"Again," Adam insisted, "what would that punishment entail?"

"Now that is a fun question, isn't it?" Valeria smirked. "Lord Vasco imposed a Law upon his Realm: if his royal inspectors declare someone to be infected, the Realm will endeavor to kill the person first, then expel it from the Realm in the event that it fails. But, you're a Lord as well, and of presumably equal Rank to Lord Vasco."

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Adam turned around just in time to see her lift her hat and show an amused, piercing gaze. "Quite frankly, I haven't the faintest idea of what would transpire."

There was a lot to unpack from that – and it represented a golden opportunity. Much as Adam had tried to research his Lord Talent, there was infuriatingly little information available on it, at least within Penumbria. I suppose Vasco trusts his subordinates more than Aspreay did, if this inspector happens to know so much.

He had to press for more. This was too good of a chance to let slip away.

"That would be quite tricky, wouldn't it?" Adam remarked, attempting to sound noncommittal. First, make an inference based on what she's told me...then see what I can get her to open up about. "Vasco definitely wouldn't be able to kill me, that's for sure."

Valeria laughed haughtily. "My lord, there is no need for modesty while you stand here naked. He would not be able to banish you either. Even with the reduced scope of his Order, I think you would be able to resist it."

My Rank is actually lower than Aspreay's...but she doesn't know that. Nodding mutely, Adam took the few nuggets of information she'd gifted him and began comparing it with what he already knew.

ADAM'S NOTES ON THE PAINTED WORLD

The Lord Talent

* The Lord can enact a Law upon his Realm. It will trigger upon specific circumstances. This will occur even if the Lord is not present in the Realm.

* But since Vasco still needs his subordinates to judge someone as guilty, there are limitations on how to trigger the Laws. Must research further.

* Lord Talents can clash with other Lord Talents – at that point, the stronger Rank will prevail.

* Is it any Talent? Would a high-Rank Baker be immune to a Lord's Talent? No, it can't work like that, surely? Must research further.

* In addition to Rank, the intensity of the Order or Law can change the result of a Talent clash. For example, ordering someone of equal Rank to die might fail, but telling them to stand still might work instead.

* What counts as 'too far' for orders?

* If you narrow down an order, how far above your weight can you punch? Could I make an Emperor yawn once? Are there consequences if my Laws fail to work? There must be, or Aspreay would have implemented more of them.

* Must. Research. Further.

After finishing his mental notes, Adam turned to Valeria with a smile. "I couldn't tell you for sure. I'm afraid I've never experience a clash like that."

"Ah, of course. You didn't study at the Academy, right, my lord?" Valeria moved up towards him, so quickly and so suddenly that Adam couldn't help but take a step back. "Aspreay's bastard son must have been fostered elsewhere, I imagine."

She was, he noticed, slightly shorter than him. It didn't make her sudden proximity any less intimidating. The woman peered up at him, and both her eyes blazed with ardent curiosity.

"That is a bold thing to say to a lord," Adam said, slowly. "Some would have you executed for it."

"Some. Not you, I'd wager."

"Rather daring of you to bet so much on a man you know so little of. What made you confident that you'd live?"

"My lord sees my lack of care for my life and mistakes it for certainty of my conclusions."Valeria smirked and tapped his chest mockingly with the back of her hand. "I assure you – it is the former. People who fear death do not take a job where you expose yourself to the Rot."

That was the first thing she'd said that made sense to him. "Have you been working here for long?"

"No. Today is my first and last day. I mislike the job, my lord." Valeria's comment was said too lazily for it to be her true feelings. "In any case, it is as I say – I am merely a strange person who cares little for their survival. Truthfully, I don't presume to trust your sense of morality."

What an odd woman. "You could be lying," Adam posited.

"Mayhap so. Mayhap I really do have legitimate reasons for believing in your innate goodness." Valeria held her gaze for a moment, then laughed, her voice taking on a dry note as she spoke. "You have no visible sign of the Rot in you. And you don't look like a Puppet, either. May we proceed with the final test?"

Adam nodded carefully. There was something deeply strange about this inspector. I don't think most others in her profession would have talked to me this way. What's wrong with her?

She turned away from him, moving to the back of the room. "Are you familiar with Dragonforged Steel?"

He was. Not only had he read of it before, but he had also brought the Dragonforged Steel from Penumbria's treasury with him. I'm glad Tenver insisted on this...even if that shield is heavy as hell. "I know a little of it."

"That my lord knows of its resilience is expected. Today, we care not for the Steel's strength – but rather, its weakness."

"Which is?"

Valeria rummaged through the back of the room, then returned with a large shield that nearly covered half of her neck all the way down to her knees. "Dragonforged Steel isn't simply vulnerable to the Rot; it attracts the blasted thing. If you are infected with the plague – be it a mere Stain or a complete Rot – and attempt to reach past the steel, your arm will be dragged to it as though magnetized."

"Interesting," Adam said. This makes things easier. "Maybe Penumbria should adopt this sort of testing." He said the words to sound natural, but after a moment, realized the validity of his own question. Why didn't Penumbria use Dragonforged Steel? Aspreay could have used it to test newcomers – he would've known Adam was innocent from the start!

Amusement passed through the Inspector's eyes. "If my lord can afford it," she pointed out, with a polite manner. "Dragonforged Steel is mighty expensive and shatters after a few total minutes of exposure to Rot. Additionally, the Puppet Mines hold a monopoly over its production. Lord Vasco spends a great deal of his treasury on procuring more."

One more thing for me to consider. How many Orbs would that cost? Money...everything always comes down to money.

Adam sighed audibly, although he didn't mean to. His portrayal of a lord until now had been close to perfect, only revealing his true feelings when necessary. This was his first minor slip-up.

If Valeria had opinions on his reaction, she did not voice them. "My lord? The test?"

He reached over to the shield and gently tapped the woman's forehead with his index finger. Adam had tested this earlier – as long as he didn't activate his Stained abilities, thereby turning his blood to Ink, the shield appeared to act as though he were a regular human. "Is this enough, Inspector?"

"Aye, my lord. You are free to go."

Upon being verbally granted entry to the city, Adam felt the magic of the Contract settling over him. He recalled one certain stipulation: 'If Belmordo dies within twenty-four hours of Adam's arrival in Gama, Adam will gain all of Belmordo's Orbs.'

Let the games begin.

--

Were it possible, leisurely exploring Gama would have been quite the interesting experience, if not downright fun.

The city was laid out differently than Penumbria. Having been developed primarily as a port town, Gama was nearly a straight line. Its design was broken only by the odd twist and turn, where busy groups of people could be seen carrying sets of goods from one end of the city to the other.

Unfortunately, Adam needed to make every second count. While he did have some leeway to explore the city after being inspected, Belmordo would likely find him soon and demand that he head to the tower straight away. I think he meant to seek me out right after my inspection, but that guard...Valeria...I don't think she was very helpful to him. Adam hoped she wouldn't get in trouble for that.

The nobleman was likely searching for him at this very moment. Will he try to entrap me in some way? Adam paused, then shook his head. No. He seems confident in my imminent failure. More likely, he was afraid that painter Lord would use the Contract clause about Belmordo 'not interfering' to entrap him.

As if I'll need to.

His time was better-spent on freeing Vasco's daughter before the twenty-four hours passed. Adam was no stranger to deadlines, and he was prepared to pull an all-nighter if necessary.

Although unlike in college, he wouldn't be able to keep himself up with food, drink, and copious amounts of caffeine. It was a pity; the culinary aromas within the Foil and Ferret's Inn smelled absolutely fantastic. The most he could do was indulge in just a few bites.

As he conducted business.

"I'm not used to being summoned by a lord." The traveler grinned at him, seeming at ease despite speaking to apparent nobility. "Is it common to hold such meetings at an inn?"

"No," Adam replied, only half-apologetically. "However, time is of the essence. You're also here to take care of the Lady in the Tower, correct?"

"Introductions before business, my lord," said the other man. "Your name was given to me upon my summons, but I fear that you might not have been offered the same kindness. My name is Ferrero Acerro."

Adam already knew that, of course. He'd checked with his tablet the instant the man started to approach him.

Ferrero Acero

Talent: Duelist of the 10th Rank – Craftsman

The Talent of a man who excels at singular showdowns. He has forsaken everything else in his pursuit of the title of Strongest Duelist.

The description gave Adam pause. It was a little less...exact, than what he'd gotten in the past. Were some Talents harder to describe than others? Or was something – someone – selectively choosing what information he should learn?

He would think more on that later. At the moment, all it meant was that Adam only had a sparse tablet description to work with. He needed to focus on scrutinizing the man sitting across from him, gleaning what information he could from his appearance.

Ferrero seemed not much older than Adam himself, if at all. On Earth, he would have been in grad school or a college senior, most likely. He wore a modest – yet fitting – dark brown leather vest. Underneath it was a well-worn and better-cared-for white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal a surprisingly toned pair of formarms, highlighting his biceps. He also possessed a cloak, but it had been set aside on his chair. Lastly, the man's hair was dark, curly, and messy, framing a knowing smirk that seemed to mock the very notion of defeat.

Despite that, he gave off an impression of being gentle, rather than arrogant. You know better than to judge based on appearances, Adam. People could be both kind and cruel. Eric had taught him that. Be a lord. Lives are at stake.

"Why do you want to fight the monster in the tower?" the painter Lord asked. "Aren't there countless stories of how dangerous the Lady and her curse are?"

"Indeed," Ferrero nodded. "That is exactly why I came."

"I...don't follow. Surely you understand that your life will be at risk. Is it for the reward?"

Which would make me a competitor. An obstacle. But if I buy him out...might be worth it. Belmordo can help me there. Might as well negotiate assuming that I'll win the nobleman's Orbs. "Because if so, I am willing to offer–"

Ferrero held up an apologetic hand. "Oh, no my lord. Not at all." He smiled. "It isn't for the money – it's for the challenge. I will grow stronger by defeating the Lady's curse."

"And that's worth risking your life for?" Adam asked. incredulously.

"Of course." Ferrero's ever-present grin took the stage. "What kind of man wouldn't risk his life to surpass his limits?"

Adam stared at him blankly. "Are you serious?"

Suddenly, the duelist's eyes went wide and he waved his hands in apology. "Oh, I'm very sorry, my lord. I meant it only as a figure of speech. The same applies to women. They too would also risk their lives to overcome their limits, of course."

"Dude – I mean, uh, my good friend – I fucking promise that's not why I'm confused." Adam spoke slowly at first, then with an exasperated exclamation at the end.

"Ah, I see. To some, risking the one life they have in pursuit of a baseless dream is rather foolish, is it not? Mayhap I'd agree with that, even."

Ferrero's neck tilted to the side, and he snorted. "But is there anything wrong with living for the sake of your foolish dreams?"

The Painter hesitated before replying. "I suppose not."

"Then forgive my rudeness, my lord, but have you never felt the burning satisfaction of surpassing yourself before?" Ferrero leaned forward. "Have you never been overcome with that fiery pride that thunders in your heart when you become a better version of yourself?"

It would've been easy to just politely nod along and change the subject. Adam was a lord, and eccentric or not, this man was bound by etiquette. A single word would have forced him to apologize and drop the topic.

But...Adam couldn't do it. Worse, he had to admit he didn't want to.

The man's simple, sincere passion beckoned him to close his eyes and think for a moment.

I remember practicing my art over and over again. Calling the process 'exhausting' wouldn't do it justice. 'Painful' is probably a better word for it. But it's also how I built myself up to a point where I could compare my new self with my old self and be proud of how far I'd come.

Those times felt...good. Like I was going somewhere when nothing else in life seemed to matter.

Even more recently, more brutally, Adam had to admit that acquiring the Talent of a Lord had felt much the same. Remembering the utter torment he had suffered at Aspreay's hands, leading up to usurping his throne and using that power to speak back against Inacio on behalf of the commoners...

That had felt good too.

"I do get it," Adam admitted. "To a point."

"Then why would you want to rob me of my chance to become stronger, my lord?"

Adam looked at him seriously. For one thing, I don't think you can beat the curse. Your Talent's Rank is quite low. For another – "Because even if you could rid the world of a monster, you would be killing the Lady of Gama."

"Aye," Ferrero agreed, in a somber tone. "It is the only solace I can offer the poor woman."

"I can do more than that." Adam's voice fell to a hush. "I can save her."

This, the duelist had not expected. Surprise was plain on his face, and he'd been left temporarily speechless.

It represented an opening. Let's see what I can offer him, Adam thought, considering his options. Money makes the world go round. He loves getting stronger, so he'd want more Orbs to improve his Rank, surely. If I can appeal to both his sense of justice and his desires... "With that in mind, Ferrero, could you perhaps consider–"

"I will stand out of your way," the man stated.

Adam raised his eyes. "You...mean that?"

"Yes."

Despite knowing better, Adam barked out a low laugh. "You could have haggled some Orbs out of me for that favor."

"I could have." The duelist shrugged. "But it wouldn't have felt right to bargain with someone's life. I am a patron of neither violence nor murder – swordsmanship is a sport. If the young lady can be saved, then I welcome you to do so with haste. Any moment we waste is another moment she suffers. I would not dishonor my master by haggling."

This guy is fucking weird, was Adam's first thought. I want to know more about him, was his second. "Why are you–"

"–LORD ADAM ARCANJO!" exclaimed a new voice. "In the name of the laws carved by our Holy Emperor Ciro Vasquez, and the noble blood that runs in my veins from my father Edmundo Crepusculo, I challenge you to lay your title on the line against me!"

Out of the corner of Adam's eyes, he spotted a headache in the form of a man pointing dramatically at him.

The tavern was immediately set ablaze by the sudden declaration. Adam only cursed in silence. He should've expected something like – and to a degree, he had. But he'd hoped it wouldn't happen until after the Tower business was sorted out.

Groaning internally, he turned to gaze upon his assailant. Balmor was the bastard son of Edmundo Crepusculo, as well as the highest ranked individual in Aspreay's former court. He'd flirted with treason against Penumbria's new Lord before, but had seemingly ceased his ambitions when Tenver beheaded Lord-Captain Inacio.

There was always a chance he would follow me and challenge me to a duel instead of rebelling. He's strong, and as a bastard, he'll never inherit his father's Lord Talent. If it has to come to this, I'll–

Ferrero stood up. "Excuse me, sir," the man said. "I believe Lord Adam already has a duel scheduled for today. You should not issue such a challenge at this time."

"His desires be damned!" Balmor shouted. He stepped forward, slipping a set of heavy brass knuckles over his fingers. "By the Empire's laws, my claim for his title is valid, and our dispute supercedes all else. Both Lord Adam and I have bastard blood, yet–"

Ferrero unsheathed his sword. Thanks to years of researching art image references, Adam knew that it was a rapier. "I care not for the Empire's laws," Ferrero said, in a low, dangerous tone. "By the law of the sword, your behavior is that of a cretin."

"Careful," Balmor hissed. "You speak to a future lord."

"Yet presently, I speak only to my opponent." Ferrero extended his blade towards the man. "Fight me if you wish. I will kill you if I must."

Meanwhile, Adam glanced furtively at the door. Should use this chance to escape and make my way to the tower, he thought, with a strange sense of calmness. Ferrero's Talent is lower ranked than Balmor's. He might have the best of intentions, but he won't last long.

Adam allowed himself a last look at his tablet to see if there was anything he'd missed.

Ferrero Acero

Talent: Duelist of the 10th Rank – Craftsman

The Talent of a man who excels at individual showdowns. He has forsaken everything else in his pursuit of the title of Strongest Duelist.

Balmor, the Bastard of House Crepusculo

Talent: Acid of the 9th Rank – Life Peer

Fists of acid beckon this man's pride. Anything those hands of his touch melts away. A true monster.

Everything was as he remembered.

The Painter stood up. He truly did plan on leaving. Yet there was also a spark of possibility he couldn't stop thinking about. Ferrero's Duelist Talent mentions 'individual showdowns'. Could he really pull something off here?

Adam struggled to think of a way. Whatever trick Ferrero was planning, the truth remained simple: a weaker Talent could not overcome a stronger one. All of Adam's testing back at the castle had confirmed as much.

Despite that...

"Your name speaks for itself, Balmor," said Ferrero. "I have heard tales of your deeds in the Relampago rebellion – how some, yourself included, thought you worthy of a title for it. Shame, then, that you found only refuge at Aspreay's court."

The bastard claimant laughed. "My time spent there will now be repaid in full. Your lack of reputation tells me all I need to know of you."

Balmor lunged forward, both gauntlet outstretched. His fists sought to demolish anything that lay in their path. If he touches Ferrero at all, it's over, Adam thought. Even if it's just his sword, even if it's for just a moment–

If.

'If' is such a fragile word.

A flock of 'ifs' all ending in tragedy will invariably lead the human mind to amalgamate them into a 'when.'

Surely, disaster will happen when any of those endless possibilities occurs. And yet–!

"You cannot touch me." Ferrero dodged away. He escaped the lunge by timing a backward step with Balmor's landing, flicking his wrist as he did so. "But you cannot say the same about me."

"What are you – no!" Balmor glanced down at his wrist and cursed. A small cut had appeared on his skin. "When did you...how did you do that, pest?!"

Ferrero laughed. "Considering that you are wearing clothes, I feel as though despite your famed Talent of Acid, your entire body isn't always acidic. You need to activate it in order to use it. Meaning it is no ultimate defense. Mayhap not even a good one."

"I have a thin layer of harmless acid spread over my skin. It should have negated your Talent when we made contact. Unless–"

Balmor froze. "Boy! Speak to me! I am a Baron, but you..." He shook his head in disbelief. "Could you...have a higher rank than me?"

Adam knew otherwise. No. He's one Rank lower – and he isn't using his Talent to attack. The Talent of a Duelist was enhancing his speed, but only defensively. When it came to actually delivering the thrust, when the two Talents might clash in some way, Ferrero relied solely on himself. He was light on his feet, delicate even, and executed swift, deliberate motions with nothing but pure technique.

Technique he'd earned through hard work, and hard work alone.

Talents can shut down other Talents...but they aren't a shield against raw violence. A sword is a sword. A punch is a punch. The Lord Talent wouldn't inherently protect me from either.

As Adam watched the duel play out, he made sure to engrave this lesson upon his soul.

Ferrero's voice rang out. "Lord Adam – we spoke earlier of haste, yes?" His sword and gaze were still aimed at his opponent. "Please, go take care of your appointment. Allow me to dance with this man."

Adam wanted to stay. He knew nothing of swordplay, of the arts of fighting, yet he found himself enthralled by every movement the duelist made. His words, his goals, his ideals...they all appeared to converge on the sincerity of his blade movements, the countless hours of effort he had poured into his art shining brightly.

Even so, the painter turned around. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Ferrero," Adam said – and meant it. "I'll see you when I'm done with my business at the tower."

The last thing he heard before leaving was Balmor's impotent screaming being muffled by the sound of Ferrerro's rapid footwork.