“Lord Adam,” Solara said, after a pause. “You’re a little more cold-hearted than I thought you’d be.”
“And you’re a little more honest than I thought you’d be.” Adam spoke in a harsh tone, but he made sure to relax into a smile at the end so she knew it was safe to lower her guard. “You just saw me use an Imperial Hangman to murder your uncle. Shouldn’t you be flattering me and all that?”
Solara smiled back. “Somehow, you don’t strike me like the type who takes well to flattery.”
Are you kidding? I’m an artist. I fucking crave approval. It’s the only drug I want more than caffeine. “You read me right,” he lied. Well, half-lied – she was right that he didn’t want her to flatter him over killing someone. He didn’t feel good about it, even if he didn’t regret it, either. “Can’t say I got half as good of a read on you, though. How are you taking this?”
“By this, do you mean how you murdered my dear old uncle?” She smirked. “I’m mildly annoyed I didn’t get to do it myself. Mostly, though, I’m impressed. He has been more than a passing nightmare in my life, for a long time now. You got rid of him in...moments. That’s absurd.”
“It’s what I had to do.”
“A starving man will not fight a dragon for fruit.” Solara leaned forward. “Needing something is rarely enough to make someone actually do it. And even when they do, it’s only after much hesitation. You...didn’t need that. It felt like you had already decided to kill him before we left the tower.”
“If I did, then I’m afraid I gave you the wrong impression,” Adam said. “To be accurate, I was half-planning on that since before I entered the city.”
Solara studied him closely for a moment, her furrowed brow the sign of a person trying to figure out whether they were in a serious conversation or not. “Why did you even think you’d need to do that? I thought you came here as his ally, at first.”
“I came here as your father’s business partner, and Belmordo seemed suspicious as shit. When he asked me to accept a curse before entering the city...well, you know. The first thing I considered was whether there was a loophole in there. Not gonna pretend that everything went exactly like I planned, but I definitely wouldn’t have entered the city without at least an idea of how to hurt the guy, if things came down to that.”
“Most impressive,” Solara remarked. “You are certainly committed to your goals.”
“And you aren’t?” Adam asked seriously. “Most people wouldn’t try acquiring a Talent from some ‘Dark Sorcerer.’”
“I...suppose that’s right.”
“Who gave you that Talent, anyway?” Adam leaned forward with his question. This was important. “Who the hell has the power to just give Talents like that, even cursed ones?”
“I cannot say,” Solara replied quickly. “You, of all people, should understand why, Lord Adam.”
“No, I don’t.”
YOU DO.
Hearing it was like being shot with a voice. The words were loud enough that Adam felt his skin tremble at the impact, as if he found himself amidst a music concert. Yet Solara did not appear to react to this strange voice, as if it had been too quiet for her to hear, as if it had not been violence in the form of sound.
Then Adam noticed Solara was doing more than ignoring the voice: her mouth was not moving. She was not blinking. She was not breathing.
...What...is...
Adam turned his eyes, but not his neck, to the outside of the carriage. Until now they had been moving forward at a steady pace, yet now they had come to a complete halt. Worst of all, it wasn’t as if the horses had merely stopped galloping.
It was as if the entire world had frozen.
...going...on...
Adam tried to move, only to find that he too was frozen. His eyes could move, albeit with great difficulty, yet even his throat appeared paralyzed. Even his thoughts were slowed.
Suddenly, a gentleman’s hand touched his shoulder from behind him. It was firm, gentle, and dignified. There was a certain warmness and noble sense to this hand, feelings that should not have been so easily invoked with a simple touch.
Worst of all was the fact that there was no space behind Adam in the carriage. He stood at one end and Solara at the other – there was no way a person could stand behind him.
And yet that arm reached further, stretching past his shoulder and toward his face. Throughout it all, time stood still.
...Who...what...
The hand touched his face. It felt as though it had the shape of a hand, yet the sensation was closer to wet sand brushing against his skin. Adam still couldn’t see what it looked like. Eyes...turn...turn! The act of turning his eyes felt as exhausting as lifting twice his own body weight, but Adam refused to back down. I will NOT be bossed around and left in the dark! What—are—you?
That thought urged him forward, and as he felt his body urging him to faint, Adam caught a glimpse of the stranger out of a corner of his eye.
It was made of ink.
A type of ink darker than a moonless night, a sort of black that appeared so dark it drained every color that dared to touch it, even light itself. It was less of a color, more a vortex. Where...have...
His memories stirred.
It was the echo of a voice, spectral and uncanny, that had once torn him from that old, dusty room and sucked him into a painting. His pulse quickened, the rhythm a steady drumming in his ears, but he held fast to his remaining sanity.
...What...do...you...want?
Do not inquire of me, Painter. You are here to fulfill a service. Nothing else matters. Obey, and be recompensed as the Imperial Throne was. Disobey, and become our Ink.
Adam felt his consciousness fade, as though he were too drunk to remain in this world. He refused to yield. ...What...service? His thoughts felt lagged, delayed, almost foreign. Who...
FORGET IT. Within minutes, you will not remember this conversation. No one will know what you are speaking of. Even your own memory will betray you in the end, Adam. Everything does.
“...My lord?” Solara asked. “Are you feeling unwell? Need you rest?”
Adam rubbed his temples. His heart was beating faster, his pulse was accelerated, and there was cold sweat dripping from his forehead. It was like he had just woken up from a terrible nightmare, the kind that frightens you enormously but leaves you unable to even remember what it was. What had just happened?
“No, I...rather, yes, I am fine. Completely fine. Have never been better. Why do you ask?”
“My lord? Are you certain?” Solara insisted.
“Yes, yes...I just...maybe...” Adam shook his head. “I’m just tired. Long day, fighting you, taking care of Belmordo...maybe I do need a moment to rest.”
Even your own memory will betray you in the end, Adam. Everything does.
Suddenly, not caring how odd he must have seemed to Solara, Adam pulled his backpack from the floor and withdrew his tablet. Not everything betrays me, he thought, racing to open a specific file. Even if the world fucking hates me, this—he smiled gently at his old, shabby tablet—this thing won’t let me down.
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Adam let out a breath of relief as he saved the file and put his tablet away. His memory was sure to completely fade in a few minutes, but he knew this would be enough for him to understand what had happened later. He also added an alarm and a brief explanation. By the time he was done, he already felt like he’d forgotten most of what he wrote. At least he managed to finish it in time.
Considering how his tablet appeared like a canvas to everyone in this world, Solara must have thought Adam looked downright insane when he pulled out a canvas from his backpack mid-sentence, started painting, then stopped and put it back without even letting the paint dry.
Whatever. He was a Lord now. He’d earned the right to look insane and not be questioned too strongly about it.
“Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “I’m probably tired. We have more than a day left until we get to Penumbria, I’m going to go ahead and sleep.”
--
The rest of the journey back was uneventful. Adam half-expected misshapen monsters to come screaming out of the forest, but apparently, the wild beasts of this world knew enough to respect a caravan of armed guards. It was a welcome reprieve after the combat and backstabbing of the Ghost and Belmordo.
When they arrived at Penumbria, Adam immediately began psyching himself up. No time to waste. As soon as we get off this carriage, it’s back to work. There were many things to be done, and limited time to do them.
First, he’d have to talk to Vasco about exactly what terms they’d earned from rescuing Solara. The Lord of Gama could probably make a case for being upset at Adam for the death of his brother – even though the guy was the personification of treason – but if Adam spoke first, he could frame it as an extra service instead. Could make him pay more, even. Then there’s all the planning we need to get done before the Emperor hears about what happened. Gotta move fast and—
“SOLARA!”
Vasco dashed towards them as the carriage doors swung open. He didn’t run like a dignified lord, but rather, like a desperate father. His face was red, his voice was shaky, and relief was openly displayed on his features. “You’re – you’re outside. You’re...fine.”
“I am, Father.” Solara tried to sound more dignified than Vasco, but her voice cracked at the end. “It...took a while. Has the outside world always been this blue? It was hard to tell from my tower.”
She held up her hand for her father to help her step off the carriage. Instead, he seized her in a mighty hug, lifting her up and away from the platform, his grip growing ever tighter. At first this seemed to embarrass her, because she muttered, “Father, please, I...” But when her words faded, she embraced him back and closed her eyes, uncaring of who else might be watching.
Adam opened his mouth, closed it again, then turned his back to the family. “It’s been a long trip,” he said loudly, as if speaking to the air. “I need to get some rest. My servants will see to it that Lady Solara is accommodated properly.”
And with that, he left without saying another word.
But not before he heard Vasco mutter, “Thank you, Lord Adam.”
I’m not doing this for you, Adam answered in his head. He stomped angrily as he walked, trying to convince himself that it was true. I don’t care if you are having a moment, okay? I just – I’m tired. There was no way he’d do something like that! He just...yeah, he needed rest. And nothing was going to keep him from that, not even his duty.
Tenver seemed able to, as he was waiting for Adam by the manor’s entrance, leaning his back against the large wooden double-doors. “Quite an emotional reunion there,” he said, in a contemplative tone. “Think the backdrop could be a bit better though.”
Adam frowned, turning around to glance back at them. “The backdrop? What are you – oh Tenver, what the fuck?”
Turns out he must have actually been tired, because Adam had apparently missed the large, tall wooden poles arranged near the gates. Atop them were the half-decomposed severed heads of several different people, the sharp wood going through their chin all the way through the top of their skull. None of them were immediately recognizable, but there was no doubt they were some of his old courtiers.
“I was gone for a few days, max. How many people did you kill?”
“Nine,” Tenver answered promptly. “I have a written report of each execution awaiting you in your chambers, Lord Adam.” He glanced at the heads, then shook his own. “You’d think that the last set of executions would be enough to deter them, but the moment they heard you were away from the castle, there was some talk of treason yet again. Something about it being their best chance at bringing Penumbria back to the Empire.”
“Keep doing that and we’re going to be out of courtiers,” Adam dryly noted. This murderous psycho... Then again, could he really say anything about that after murdering Belmordo in cold blood?
“Better that way,” Tenver continued. “I also motioned to seize their assets upon their deaths – it will help with our financial state, albeit temporarily. If any more of them rebel...well, that’s less courtiers to feed, and more Orbs for our coffers.”
Adam had the terrifying notion that Tenver probably wasn’t working as hard as he could to stop them. If anything, he might be encouraging them to be more treasonous so he’d have an excuse to kill them. While it was true that Aspreay had been a bit overly lax, allowing rich courtiers to populate his court without taxing them appropriately...this was a bit much.
“Are you unhappy?” Tenver asked, his voice tensing up. “I admit I might have decided too much by myself.”
“I don’t mind you making decisions. Stopping a coup attempt is a good idea, you know? But the murder...”
“Forgive me, my lord.” Tenver held his back straight and maintained his eyes on the happy family surrounded by staked heads. “News reached us earlier of Gama – Belmordo’s death was your doing, yes? I was under the impression that this meant you were fine with necessary killing. Am I mistaken?”
Adam glared at him sharply, but Tenver didn’t meet his eyes, instead opting to keep looking ahead. The man was grinning now, though.
“News travels faster than me, it seems,” Adam said. I’m fine with some violence if needed, but ideally I’d prefer something closer to the forming of the Brazilian Republic than the French Revolution in terms of bloodshed. He also wished he could make that point aloud without sounding nonsensical to a native of this world.
“Details were sparse,” Tenver noted. “Care to fill me in, my lord?”
“You know, I really did want to rest,” Adam complained. But though he shook his head, he grunted in agreement and raised his hand as he walked into the manor. “Come on. Let’s talk inside.”