When the time for farewells came, Ferrero took Adam aside. The steely glint in his eyes made him seem like more of a duelist than ever before. He grasped Adam's hand, shaking firmly.

"Be careful of the Hangman," he warned. Even during their handshake, Ferrero's eyes were following Eric as he entered the ship. "One wrong move, and you will die."

Adam slowly nodded. "Any reason you think I shouldn't trust him?"

"He's a Hangman of the Empire, for one. Means he's a dog of the man who ordered the extermination of my kind." Ferrero frowned, then glared at the door where Eric had disappeared into. "And it means he's virtually unbeatable, for another. Few could survive a Hangman, and even fewer could best one."

I suppose that would be his opinion, wouldn't it? Too biased though. Can't take it as evidence that I should distrust Eric.

There were plenty of other valid reasons to do that.

"Really now?" Adam asked, trying to force his expression into a playful grin. "That means a lot coming from the man who was styling on the Ghost of Waters. Especially since it almost killed everyone on Baltsar's ship. You think that even you would have trouble with the Hangman in a one-on-one match?"

The question was meant as a joke, but Ferrero answered it in complete earnest. "No," he replied, his grin matching Adam's. "I'd certainly win."

Adam flinched at the declaration. Immediately, his brief concern turned to relief. Damn. I'm just glad he's on our side. For now, at least. Ferrero's Talent had limitations, true, but if someone engineered a situation where he could make the most of it regardless...

"We'll meet again," the duelist promised him. "So keep your guard up around the Hangman. I can't teach you to fight if you die first."

"Don't worry about that," Adam assured him. "I have no intention of letting my guard down."

No matter how much a part of him wanted to.

--

It felt eerie to step back onto the ship. Last time, Adam had boarded the strange vessel knowing full well that he could be walking into a trap. This time, he was the one who could set a trap if he wanted to.

And honestly? The jury was still out on that idea.

While trying to assassinate a Hangman was ill-advised, if you were set on it...there were few places better than aboard a flying ship you had total control over. Then again, Eric had apparently swam after the ship using his plagiarized Talents, so it wasn't as much of an advantage as it initially seemed.

On the other hand, the ship's barrier would keep Eric trapped inside until they arrived at their destination – or the entire thing was destroyed. Maybe that could be exploited somehow.

Wonder if he'd survive if I flew this thing straight into the sun, Adam pondered, gazing out the window as the ship submerged. Actually, does the Painted World even have a sun? Is it just a yellow dot in the sky? Are there other planets? How does any of this work, exactly?

There were plenty of questions that Adam hadn't enjoyed the luxury of considering until now. If Lawrence, the First Painter, did indeed create this world, then maybe there were unfinished–

"Whatcha thinking about, broski?" Eric asked, tossing an arm over his shoulder. "That's way too serious a look on your face, you know?"

There was an almost invisible tightening of Adam's jaw before he relaxed into a smile and carefully removed Eric's arm from his shoulder. "Personal space, man," Adam said, in a friendly tone. Don't you dare act this close to me. You think I believe you? That I forgive you? Burn in hell, jackass. "I wasn't really thinking of anything important."

Eric forcibly put his arm around Adam's shoulder again. The strength of a Hangman abruptly manifested itself, and Adam realized with mounting horror that he could no longer free himself.

Despite this, Eric still looked relaxed. When he spoke, it was as if the whole thing was a joke. "C'mon man – you don't have to hold out on me. I know all your dumb past, yeah? Whatcha thinking, c'mon, spill!"

Aside from the supernatural tightening of his grip, Eric still seemed intent on passing this off as friendly banter. Worst of all, maybe to him this really was just friendly banter.

Fine. I'll play along. "I was just thinking about how to kill you," Adam said, with a wide smile.

That elicited the slightest of hesitations from Eric – before the Hangman burst out laughing, so suddenly and so close to Adam's face that he nearly spat on him. "You're hilarious sometimes, dude. Man, I missed you."

Adam's heart tightened for a moment. I missed you too...but nostalgia just makes the scars ache more. "I wasn't kidding. I really was wondering how to kill you."

Eric only laughed harder. "Some people just always gotta be annoyingly practical, eh? Don't bother, though. Not like you could."

At that, Adam wrapped his Stained Vines around Eric's hand to pull it away, then shot a glare at him. It was partly performative. He wasn't truly set on killing Eric – even if he couldn't trust the man, there was merit to playing along with this theater.

With that said...more than anything else, Adam couldn't stand the idea of being underestimated.

"It would be pretty easy if I wanted to." Though Adam's tone was matter-of-fact, he meant it as a taunt, and it was received as such. "Your curse will kill you if I don't go see the Emperor with you, right?"

"What about it?" Eric replied quickly. Too quickly. His smile was still on his face, but there was a certain uneasiness to it now.

"You rushed when making your move. If you'd taken your time, you probably could've negotiated better terms." Adam wasn't just criticizing him with empty words. Eric had all the cards in his hand; his self-imposed curse wasn't necessary. "What, your ego couldn't allow you to look weak, even for a second?"

Again, Eric laughed. "Be reasonable, man. You know I only did that to make your negotiations with the Puppet King easier."

His response was fast enough that it was nearly believable. Unless he'd just made a mistake earlier, and was now trying to blame it on his supposed selflessness. Or, an unwanted voice whispered in Adam's head, maybe he's telling the truth – and you've forgotten how to trust people.

He shoved the voice aside. "I'll be frank. If I don't meet with the Emperor, you die. All it takes is me moving this ship somewhere else."

Eric's grin widened, his eyelids lowered just slightly, and he let out a soft, low chuckle. "Adam...do you really think that would work? Give me two minutes and I could destroy this ship, send your friends plummeting to their deaths, then swim to the surface carrying you in my arms."

It was hard not to believe his threat when Adam remembered the tunnel between Penumbria and Gama. That thing had once been a mountain so large and impassable that merchants preferred to walk a long, treacherous route around rather than attempt to scale it. And yet, a single Hangman blew a hole in the mountain so wide it became a tunnel that stood to this day.

This wasn't a bluff. Eric really could do exactly what he'd described.

No wonder you look so confident, Adam thought as he watched Eric's grin grow increasingly smug. However...you aren't accounting for all the variables.

"I guess with your Talents you could probably keep me alive if you did that," Adam reasoned. When the other man nodded, Adam nodded alongside him. "Wouldn't do much good if I killed myself, though."

The grin vanished in a flash. "What the hell are you talking about?" Eric demanded angrily. "That's a ridiculous hypothetical, dude. Who the hell would commit suicide out of spite?"

"I would." Adam surprised even himself with how prompt his answer was. At first he meant it as a bluff, but it dawned on him that he would happily die if it guaranteed Eric's death too. I miss him, a part of me hopes we can be friends again...and a larger part of me hates him so much I'd die with a smile on my face to send him to his grave.

The thought almost gave him pause. I might be more messed up than I thought, huh? "Do you think I'm lying?"

After regarding Adam for a lengthy moment, Eric released a sharp, skeptical snort that crescendoed into a tone of exasperation. "Fine, maybe you would," he admitted. Then, he added in a bitter tone, "What, do you want a cookie? Maybe if I promise you some candy you won't kill yourself until dinner?"

In truth, Adam didn't actually want anything. He was just making a point. He also wouldn't back down from a challenge. "Why don't you make yourself more believable, Eric? I mean, I'm probably not going to kill myself...but if you're so nervous...maybe throw me an extra bone here."

Adam smirked. Eric wasn't nearly as reckless as he was. Prone to overextending his position due to his own ego, yes, but this was the man who hadn't pursued a career as a famous artist because he thought it was too unrealistic. Depending on the situation, Eric could be indecisive to the point of sin.

"Fine," the Hangman barked out. "How's this? Look at your tablet."

So he can see my tablet, Adam noted. He checked it to find a new message written within.

Eric Gryphon

Curse:

-I will die if I don't bring Adam to see the Emperor. The subject of this meeting will be the Emperor granting amnesty for severe crimes.

"Is that enough for you to finally trust me?" Eric grunted. "Or do you need more?" His annoyance was so sincere that for a fleeting second, Adam felt guilty over doubting him – before his common sense took over once again.

What now? Pushing things here could be unwise. Eric had already given Adam more than he needed to, and the Hangman was starting to get heated over his treatment. He's always overly-prudent until his emotions take over...and then he blows up. If I push him too far...

Adam shook his head. No. This isn't the time to be timid. "You could be planning on taking credit for slaying the Ghost of Waters," he pointed out. "After all, it's like you said – the Emperor isn't too keen on some of the things you've done."

A thunderous sound echoed across the room as Eric punched the wall behind them. The Hangman's fist went through the ship's wall, and Adam felt in his soul that it bounced off the barrier outside. "You – oh for fuckery's sake – Adam, are you serious?" When no response came, Eric punctuated his demand with another punch and an angry scream of, "Do you really not trust me this much?"

Very rarely had Adam ever feel thankful to his father for anything. This was one of those times. I know how to not seem scared here. "Make me feel bad, then," Adam pressed. "Give me no reason to doubt you, then watch as I feel like shit for treating you unfairly."

This appeared to win Eric over. "Fine!"

Eric Gryphon

Curse:

-I will die if I don't bring Adam to see the Emperor. The subject of this meeting will be the Emperor granting amnesty for severe crimes. I will not take credit from slaying the Ghost of Water. I will acknowledge that the Ghost of Waters was killed during the journey from Penumbria to the Puppet Mines, which I was not part of. I could not have slain the Ghost from outside the ship.

"How about now?" Eric yelled. "Are you satisfied, goddamn it?" His fist caved another hole in the wall, and his head fell low. Twice he breathed out, and when the Hangman spoke again, it was in a soft, hurt tone. "Do you...trust me? C'mon, man."

Adam wasn't sure whether Eric was trying to make him feel guilty, or whether the feeling was natural. The result was the same. "Of course I trust you, Eric."

--

"I don't trust Eric in the slightest," Adam told Solara and Tenver as they converged in the knight's room. "Watch yourselves around him. No matter what he says, don't listen."

Solara nodded in response as she peered out of a window. Tenver didn't look up from his work, although he let out a sound of acknowledgement. The Puppet had taken off his armor and laid out a set of tools set in front of him, absently fiddling with his wooden arm – which was now absurdly large, twice as long and wide as usual.

"Does your arm get bigger when you aren't wearing armor?" Adam asked. "It never looked like that before."

"Aye, my lord," Tenver acknowledged. "It's part of how I am able to hide it so well. My armor is made to allow my arm to compress into a smaller size."

"Valeria and the other Puppets seemed to have regular arms," Adam pointed out. "Why is yours so different?"

"Let us say that keeping my soul from leaving the atmosphere was a...rush job," Tenver said, with a casual shrug and a heavy sigh. "Even while dying, I knew that I would need more strength to return my dear uncle the gift of death that he kindly bestowed upon us."

Adam was left with a sort of shocked wonderment. What kind of mental state did someone need to be in to ask for their body to be experimented on? All for the sake of revenge?

A moment later, he realized that – with the right timing – he would've gladly agreed to the same regarding Eric. "Do you regret your decision?"

"No," Tenver promptly answered. "You saw its power firsthand against the Ghost of Waters. My Talent is empowered by this arm. The only problem is...well, no one will follow a half-Puppet Emperor."

His declaration should have stunned Adam and Solara both, yet neither so much as stirred. You never knelt to me when I usurped Penumbria from Aspreay, Adam recalled. And not for appearances, either. Yet even now, you still think of yourself as the rightful Emperor...how ambitious are you, Tenver?

Adam smiled. I don't dislike that about you, though. "Do you plan on keeping it secret forever?"

"At least until this hand has a firm enough grasp on power that none can wrest it away." He clenched his wooden Puppet fist. "I've risked my life to keep its secret on many occasions."

Adam could imagine. He'd only ever seen Tenver fight with a sword during their fight against the Ghost, despite the knight's Talent of archery. Restraining himself to that degree...it couldn't have been easy. "Eric doesn't know about it, I imagine?"

"If he does, then I fear I may have to kill your old friend," Tenver nonchalantly stated. "Keeping this a secret is rather difficult, my lord, and sometimes there is a need to cover up mistakes in red dye."

"You're always ready for murder, Tenver."

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

"Ah, my lord – if only murder could solve the worst of it," the Puppet Knight lamented. "Can you hazard a guess at how inconvenient it is to engage in daily repairs without revealing my Puppetry?"

Adam tilted his head. "Honestly never considered that. It must be pretty difficult, huh?"

"Quite," Tenver sadly replied. "Since you two are aware of it by now, I thought it would do no harm to get started while we planned for the future. That said..." He trailed off and shifted his eyes to Solara. "Perhaps I was mistaken."

His silent gaze persisted until it briefly pulled Solara's attention from the window. She shot a fleeting, noncommittal glance their way, looked back at the window – then did a quick double-take, half-panicked as she noticed they'd been peering at her expectedly.

"What is..." Solara blinked as her thoughts caught up to the conversation. After a brief shake of her head, she pressed on. "There's no harm in you taking care of your arm."

"You say that, my lady," Tenver began, with a theatrical tone, "yet those eyes of yours have been fixated on the window ever since I removed my armor."

She stood up in a hurry. "That's not why!" Solara snapped. Then, she cast her gaze downward. "No, rather...I spoke with Valeria before we left. Did you know she was an elf before becoming a Puppet?"

"She's still an elf," Tenver said. "Just as I am still a human – and a Puppet. We are both."

"Of course, that's not what I..." Solara shook her head again. "What I want to say is that...I didn't know that elves could also become Puppets. Or mayhap I just chose never to think of it." She laughed bitterly. "It was easier that way."

Her delivery felt as heavy as a confession, but Tenver didn't appear to feel too strongly about it. "A common mistake."

"But a mistake nonetheless," Solara insisted. Her tone was sharp; perhaps too sharp, because when she continued, it was with a softer voice. "I must apologize, Tenver, for what I have said about Puppets. I–"

At that, the knight held out his hand. "No need to explain yourself. I understand."

"But I–"

"You know, my lady," Tenver began, in a wistful tone, "I hated elves once upon a time."

Adam raised an eyebrow. Now this, I wasn't expecting. Tenver hadn't seemed like the kind of guy who could hate anyone but his uncle. Adam allowed the two some space to look at each other, taking up Solara's old seat and somewhat awkwardly glancing out the window while the two talked. Should I leave, or...?

"You understand?" Tenver remarked. "I can hardly hold a grudge over your mistakes. Let's call it even, aye? Fantastic!" He clasped his hands together, as if they had all agreed. "With that in mind, I'd like to move on and speak of something less pleasant."

Solara stomped her feet. "Hang on there pup– bastard!" Her face was flushed, and her tone furious. "We shouldn't ignore this merely because it's an unpleasant topic. And you can't start talking about something else to distract us from–"

"Aspreay escaped the castle," Tenver said, with a casual tone. "Esteban got in touch with Lord Adam earlier. Notified him. Thought you should know."

Solara's mouth, already half-open with an argument forming, froze. She slowly shifted her glare towards Adam, appearing half accusatory and half confused. "Is that true?" she demanded.

Well, I guess that's one way for Tenver to escape an awkward conversation.

"It is," Adam gravely acknowledged. "The Grandmaster gave me a raven several hours ago, and I used it to speak with Esteban. Apparently, he went to check up on Aspreay, only to find unconscious guards and an empty room."

"That's...that's horrible!" Solara cried out. "Adam, you need to return to Penumbria at once! Whatever deal you struck with the Hangman, if that madman can take the city back–"

Adam shook his head. "If he could, I would be more worried. But he can't." His Lord Talent rivaled – if not surpassed – Aspreay's by now, and the former lord had lost his control over the city's treasury.

I also promised the city nobles that, on the off chance Aspreay ever woke up, whoever killed him would get twice their own treasury as a reward. Doubt he'll find a lot of allies now...cowards generally stick with the most profitable option. At the very least, they'd hesitate in helping him.

"Besides," he continued. "Despite being the grumpiest guard in existence, Esteban isn't useless. He personally led a team of trackers after Aspreay, and they've followed his trail quite well. It looks like he went after one of his old courtiers and asked for help. Aspreay was denied, so he punched the man in the face, stole his money, plus a horse, and left the city. He's not our problem anymore."

Mostly. Aspreay could still pose a threat...but the situation with Eric was far more pressing.

Solara sighed in disbelief. "Adam, it is our problem. Remember that your only pretense at legitimacy comes from the false rumor that you are Aspreay's bastard son. If he's awake and about, then he can easily deny that claim."

"His word means nothing," Tenver said, sounding unconvinced. "Were the rumor true, he would deny it regardless. Moreover, it was always a nigh-impossible claim." A hint of mirth crept into his voice. "Aspreay is about as likely to father a child as your own father, Solara."

It didn't escape Adam's notice that despite how Tenver had spoken with his usual half-smirk and usual infuriating tone...he'd referred to Solara by name this time, rather than 'elf'. The implication of what he was saying did almost escape Adam, however, before he caught it a second later. Ah. Yeah. Well, that would explain why Aspreay doesn't have an heir. Might make the rumors of my heritage a little hard to accept. Not impossible, but hard.

"Even if it's unlikely," Adam said, "and even if the Emperor knows it's bullshit, he would accept a convenient lie if I prove myself valuable. So long as he can pretend to allow me to live based on a legitimate claim, his vassals won't be able to use it as precedent to justify overthrowing other city lords."

"That...may be true," Solara reluctantly admitted. "But even so, the fact that Aspreay was able to wake up at all is concerning, no?"

Adam shrugged. "To be honest, I kind of expected it. Was just trying to get word to Esteban before Aspreay escaped. I'd hoped he would take longer to recover, but..."

"What do you mean you expected it?" Solara stepped up towards Adam and grabbed his chin, turning him to face her. "Adam! You knew your power had this limitation?"

He gently pulled her fingers away from his face. "My lady," he began, in a pompous tone, "that is no way to speak to a lord."

She remained unimpressed and unamused. "You asked me to do away with formalities. That is not a request you can invoke when you please, then discard when convenient."

Fair point. "I wasn't entirely sure that Aspreay would awaken," Adam began, "but remember when I used your Talent during our fight against the Ghost of Waters? I died then – and Captain Baltsar recovered his soul afterwards."

He tapped his finger on his thigh. "That's different from what happened to the creatures I've painted. The monster I stole my Stained Ink from didn't jump out from my tablet – painting, sorry – and the Ghost of Flames didn't go back to your body, but I think for humans it works like that. When I die, their soul returns to their original body. That's my best guess, anyhow."

"And you think Aspreay still possesses the Lord Talent?"

"I think he might," Adam acknowledged. "But he can't wrestle Penumbria away from me now, and he's gone from the city, besides. He'll be a source of annoyance, but not of hardship. Dealing with him will be unpleasant at worst."

Solara slowly nodded. "I shall write to Father," she said, a note of confidence sneaking its way into her voice. "He will be able to set up checkpoints to keep Aspreay from reaching other Imperial cities...and Father has always been good at convincing Aspreay to stop before committing actions he might later regret."

Frankly, Adam expected the former Lord to head straight for Gama – but it was maybe better to keep that idea to himself for now, in case he was wrong.

"As for him being out of Penumbria...you're sure?" Solara asked, hesitantly.

Adam nodded. "So long as Esteban didn't lie." He really hated Aspreay, so it wouldn't make sense for him to betray me...but I'm not about to trust him just yet. I'll prepare on the off-chance he did something shady.

Solara nodded once more. "Well, if you think everything is sorted..." She whirled around as fast and suddenly as a tornado to face Tenver. "Then let us return to our previous topic. You need to allow me to apologize properly, knight. We cannot go on with you simply redirecting the conversation to distract us."

"My lady, mayhap you underestimate me," Tenver joyfully replied. "If you'd be so kind – would you and Lord Adam look out the window? Ah, and if my lord could use his Captain Talent to stop the ship so we could observe for a moment, that would be fantastic."

Adam and Solara shared a tired glance before sighing and playing along. It was easier than arguing, they figured. He stopped the ship and peered out the window. Now, what do you want us to look at, Tenver? What's–

His thoughts and voice failed him.

Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't this.

A deathly quiet fell over the room, like a funeral for a life unjustly taken. Seconds turned to minutes as everyone stared outside.

Eventually, Tenver was the first to speak up. "It was dark when we flew over this the first time," he remarked. "Speaking of Aspreay, this was his city, once upon a time. Before..."

Decapitating his enemies hardly gave the knight pause, yet at this thought, he hesitated. "Before it was conquered by the Rot."

'A Festival of Monsters' was the title that came to Adam's mind. He felt immediate shame at thinking the sight would make for a beautiful – if darkly so – painting.

Below, a ruined, glorious city laid beneath them. They were not ruins, precisely, for the buildings looked hardly old at all. Yet out of their brick and stone grew the same tumors of flesh Adam had seen in the Penumbria slums; branches of twisted mass diverging off each lump and connecting with another, a sort of fungal network of defilement.

As if a once-beautiful painting of a city had been splashed with large lumps of ink.

Now, only monsters roamed its streets. Even from above, Adam could make out inked monstrosities hunting for prey, appearing similar to the ones he'd encountered in the woods after first arriving in the Painted World. And thanks to having spoken with the Ghost of Waters, he knew what they were made of.

"The Rot corrupts a living being...then it eats whatever it can. Brick, grass, other souls...and they wrestle for control of the body. Sometimes merge. Sometimes one is at the top of it all." Adam looked down with both horror and awe. "Animals get eaten, then eat others...and we end up with this."

"How many monsters are there?" Solara muttered.

Tenver made a thoughtful sound. "Hmm. Perhaps a hundred."

Adam nodded. "Probably right. I guess that's why no one tries to take back those cities. Even if you ignore the Rot, that's way too many monsters to handle. Don't think us three would be able to do much about them."

"I dare not let my arrows loose upon them even from the safety of your ship, my lord," Tenver said, in an oddly serious tone. "Monsters that have feasted upon a city can become sickeningly strong. I dare not."

"Good," Adam replied, mild relief entering his voice. "Even you aren't that stu–"

Pain.

"ADAM! What's wrong?" Tenver asked.

Oddly, he heard the words ten seconds before realizing his knees had touched the ground, and five seconds before noticing the cold sweat on his forehead. Every realization thereafter came immediately: his racing heartbeat, the pain in his chest, and the sensation that his soul had a hole in it.

What...the hell... Adam looked up in fear, yet he found himself unable to mouth the words at his concerned knight. How...when...?

An answer shot through his brain.

The ship's barrier had been pierced.

Loosely-related thoughts jumped from one to another: his new Talent made him aware of the ship, his pain was the result of this, did other Talents have similar drawbacks—"HOW—How was the ship's barrier broken?" Adam managed to shout that last thought, his control of his body slowly returning to him.

Even the Ghost of Water hadn't been able to imagine itself capable of breaking the barrier, and it had possessed the Talent of a Duke. For something to shatter it like this...did one of the creatures down below leap up at the ship? But how? None of them looked strong enough. What—

A glimpse out the window informed him of his mistake. The question shouldn't have been what, but rather, who.

Eric Gryphon stood atop the clouds.

The Hangman was still, appearing taller than he had ever, arms crossed and gazing down below with a manic grin on his face. Twin wings had grown from the back of his boots, yet they did not flutter. It was more that his wings ignored the pull of gravity. Strong gusts of wind blew the hair on and off his face rhythmically, shading his eyes for a moment, and revealing the emotion that burned behind them.

Amusement.

"Adam," Eric said, from his perch above the clouds. "Make sure you watch. Might make you think twice about trying anything stupid."

Just being able to hear the threat already made an impression. Eric was standing far enough away his words shouldn't have been audible, yet they were as clear as if he were standing right beside him.

"About a hundred monsters...looking good! They'll make for a few Orbs, always need more of those." He cracked his neck. "You better not miss this, you hear me, Adam? Pay attention. Going to show you something new. Just like old times."

Eric swung his pen at the sky as if it were a sword. "Talent isn't the peak of performance – it's just the tool that lets you start climbing. When Talent meets effort, that's when it is born." He pulled his pen upward, and the clouds darkened. "TRUE—" Eric slashed downward, a hundred pens now floating around him. "—GENIUS!"

Adam could only look away to glance at his tablet.

Eric Gryphon

Imperial Hangman

Talent: Painting

Genius: 'Abstract Art'

I am afraid even I cannot tell you, Painter. Witness it.