Out of everything that Adam had gained from collaborating with the Grandmaster, he was particularly fond of his ravens. The Puppet's Talent of Communication was much more impressive than he had initially expected, and it wasn't like Adam's expectations had been set low, either.

The advantage that came from having the magical equivalent of cell phones – in a world without instant communication – simply could not be overstated.

Just being able to check up on how Penumbria had been faring was already a huge boon. Making plans with his retainers while he was halfway across the world almost felt worth more than the Orbs he'd obtained from the Mines.

The Empire has a much stronger military than we do, Adam thought. A single Hangman should be enough to destroy Penumbria, assuming I'm not there to defend it. However, they don't have access to Talents with instantaneous communication. We may not be able to outfight them...but we can certainly outmaneuver them.

Esteban, speaking through the raven, agreed with gusto. "We haven't had any attempts at rebellion since you left," he reported. "Despite Aspreay's escape. Fucking coward." He grunted loudly through the raven – an oddly amusing sight, as it forced the raven to open its beak wide in a pantomime of emotion. "Thought there would be more people rallying to his side, but the few that did found that their champion decided to abandon them."

"That's ironic," Adam hastily replied, forcing a laugh. It wasn't the time to think on it, much less to debate matters with Esteban, but he couldn't forget that Aspreay had saved his life earlier. And suffered deadly wounds for it; enough to kill any man. Had the former lord managed to survive his duel with the World's Strongest?

If not...had he really given up his life for the man who stole the world from him?

I painted your soul and I still don't understand you, Aspreay. "What did you do with those who rebelled?" Adam asked.

"Arrested them all. Confiscated their Orbs." Esteban seemed unable to answer any questions without adding a grumpy 'hmph' at the end, as if the mere memory annoyed him to no end. "Didn't execute any."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "Isn't treason punishable by death?"

"Aye. But laws don't prevent our people from starving. Many of those fucks are from well-off households who help fund the city. Were the exiles banished to this hellhole we call home? Sure. But their families still want them alive."

The Esteban-Raven barked out a disdainful, raspy laughter. "And even if they don't, it looks bad not to pay ransom to keep kinsmen alive."

It wasn't what Tenver would have done. When he was in charge of Penumbria's safety, he found the edge of his blade to be more effective than verbal negotiation.

Then again, he was raised as a prince, Adam mused. Esteban knows when to prioritize Orbs over honor. Or maybe the Puppet Prince thought it safer to end rebellious matters with a certain finality to it, while Esteban focused moreso on building safety and stability through Orbs.

One could argue that Esteban's approach was shortsighted, ignoring long-term problems for the sake of short-term gains. Another could argue that Esteban had been poor for long enough to know first-hand how much more dangerous a lack of money could be. Even more dangerous than the threat of hidden knives behind every corner.

I suppose I did pick the right man for the job...even if he was an ass to me when we first met. "That's good," Adam said, nodding with approval. "Keep doing that. Bleed them dry. We'll need the Orbs very soon. And speaking of laws–"

The Esteban-Raven interrupted with a noise of disbelief. "You're really going to do it, then?" After a pause, he added, "My lord?"

"We don't really have a choice," Adam replied, clenching his fist. "If we don't, then even a smaller Imperial detachment is going to be a problem."

"But our Orbs–"

"I know," Adam cut in sharply. "I have the Orbs to forcibly kickstart our economy afterward. So long as we have the supplies to survive a short siege, everything will be fine."

"But can you manage that?" It was an uneasy question, lacking Esteban's usual understated annoyance. He seemed sincerely concerned this time. "Altering a Realm's Laws can be quite difficult, even for those tutored in the Talent of a Lord. Is it truly possible?"

It was a rude question, but a fair one. Adam had experimented with the Laws that governed his Realm – the territory whereupon Penumbria was situated – and quickly learned of the difficulties with making potential alterations.

First, he'd imposed a simple Law: whoever laughed four times within four minutes would find themselves dropping to one knee as if before an invisible lord. This had succeeded, as Esteban reported, but only partially. People who found the idea of kneeling embarrassing, or who were in a situation where the act would've been impactful in some way, were either able to resist the Law or were completely unaffected by it.

Narrowing down his Law appeared to make its effect stronger. When Adam rewrote it so that only Esteban would be forced to kneel after laughing four times within four minutes, the man seemed completely incapable of stopping himself from doing so.

And he was rather pissed at me for it too, Adam thought, recalling the angry raven he'd received shortly thereafter. But it did tell me that I was on the right track.

Based on this experiment, his personal readings, and what Tenver and Solara had inferred about the Lord Talent given their upbringings, Adam developed a theory. The strength of a Realm Law depended on not just the Rank of his Talent, but also the specificity of the Law itself.

That wasn't all, though. There was one more tricky aspect to it – which was likely Esteban's chief concern.

The Lord also needed to be able to imagine the Law in detail.

When I tried to make a courtier who I'd barely spoken to affected by the same Laughing Law...it didn't work. Because I couldn't remember them very well.

Solara confirmed as much. Her father, himself an experienced Lord, had explained this to her once before. The effect of any Law was limited by the Lord's ability to visualize it. As Adam could barely envision what that specific courtier looked like, he could not imagine them being subjected to the Law itself.

Aspreay, to his credit, was unusually talented as a lord. The more Adam looked into Penumbria's finely crafted Laws – which he could only do now that he'd increased his Rank and overall got more used to Lordship – the more impressed he was.

Penumbria's Walls had been crafted with the finest of rules regarding who was allowed to enter. Only those who fulfilled a number of requirements, such as having the proper travel documents, possessing a minimum amount of Orbs, and so on, could be admitted. Even then, their admittance was still subject to the Guards' final approval.

Exceptions were also made for Imperial citizens with Talents below the rank of Baron. Those above Baron rank were outright barred from entering, presumably to protect Aspreay's rule from would-be usurpers. He likely would've preferred to ban all Imperials outright, but in order to account for the Emperor's Laws regarding how its citizens should be treated, he did allow for those below Baron rank – if they came unarmed – to be taken prisoner for a trial at the Penumbrial Guards' discretion.

Unfortunately, another exception had needed to be made in accordance with Ciro's demands. Simply put: irrespective of rank, those who arrived bearing the Emperor's Imperial Seal were to come and go through the Walls as they pleased.

Meaning that the Imperial Army – or even a single Hangman – could waltz right into Penumbria and destroy it from the inside if they so pleased, all without having to deal with the Wall's barrier whatsoever.

Changing that clause was imperative. Penumbria's defenses would be little more than a paper tiger until Adam altered Aspreay's Laws into an adequate substitute.

"I don't think I can make something as intricate as Aspreay...at least not yet," Adam admitted. "We don't need to do anything too complex – all we need is enough to survive a siege. Have you bought the supplies? Food, water, protection against the Rot? Sufficient to last a month or two?"

"Yes, my lord!" Esteban fired back with clear enthusiasm. "Although I must say that it doesn't seem like a wise use of our Orbs."

"I've got more Orbs to bring to the city when I'm back. For now, we just need to make sure that Penumbria can survive without any trade or contact with the outside world."

"My lord – I must try to convince you again, this is a bad idea."

Adam shook his head. "And try you did," the Painter acknowledged. He called upon his Talent. "Realm Law: None shall leave or enter Penumbria."

Accounting for trade, visitation, and general traffic was far too complex for his current understanding of the city. Instead, he opted for a simpler solution. No one could leave, and no one could come in. This way, the Emperor's army wouldn't be able to completely ignore Penumbria's Walls. It was an approach that worked even with Adam's lack of practice with his Talent.

With that said, once I enact this Law, I'll probably have trouble redoing the system Aspreay implemented. But that's a problem for a different day – first, we need to survive.

"What's stopping the Hangmen from merely tearing your Walls down?!" Esteban shouted through the raven, so loudly the bird itself appeared to vibrate at his indignation. "This won't help! We'll just decimate our ability to trade, lost the trust of the people, and–"

"–And the Hangmen won't destroy the Walls," said Tenver, walking into the room and nodding at Adam. "We've been planning quite carefully. While the Emperor and his Capital are infinitely stronger than any of the Imperial Cities, that does not mean Ciro is without risk. He needs Orbs to fuel the inventions that keep the Rot at bay...or have you forgotten?'

"Huh? Tenver? Is that you?!" the Esteban-Raven shouted. "Well, what of it?! What does it matter that the Emperor needs Orbs?"

The Puppet Prince heaved a heavy sigh, as if this matter was too uncomplicated to warrant an explanation. "Because even if he can put down any rebellion with ease, Penumbria is located far enough away that Ciro still needs to partially rely on obtaining troops from his vassals to advance."

Tenver drummed his fingers on the table. "He needs their cooperation – and simply being stronger than them is insufficient. If he pushed too far, and his vassals all rebelled, then the Empire's economy would sink faster than at anchor at sea. Military conquest wouldn't bring back the millions of Orbs he'd lose to a widespread revolt. Not with Stained Monsters roaming, and the Rot plague feasting upon the corpses of cities suffering from the fires of war."

"I...that is...ah...eh...what?" The raven continued its confused stutter for a moment, then collected its thoughts before asking, "Tenver–Lord Adam–please explain more plainly."

Adam took this chance to step in. "If Emperor Ciro topples Penumbria's Wall, then monsters will swarm upon the city and destroy it in short order. His vassals would rebel at this treatment of a city, especially if the treasonous lord himself wasn't even there at the time. The Emperor needs taxes to fuel his need for Orbs, so he won't go that route. At least not if he has a better option."

"And that better option would be..."

"My head," the Painter plainly stated. "I'll be heading to the ruins of an abandoned city...to try and obtain the Talent in the Grandmaster's Corpse. Away from my Realm, and an easy target for the Imperial Army – especially its Hangmen. Why would Ciro upset his vassals when he can win a much easier fight?"

Tenver laughed softly. "Get it now, Esteban? That's why when the Imperial Army shows up at our gates, you will tell them precisely where we are. Even with Adam's new Law, you should still be able to speak to them through Penumbria's barrier."

After some earlier debate, Adam, Tenver, and Solara had decided that there was no point in concealing their whereabouts. The Emperor would likely find them regardless. And in the event he didn't...without a serious lead to follow, his armies might consider ransacking Penumbria wholesale in case the Painter was hiding within.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"I, I see," Esteban muttered. "Then what will you do once the Emperor's army catches up to you?"

Adam sat down and rested his chin upon intertwined fingers, letting out a deep contemplative sound before answering. "By then I should have acquired a way to combat the Rot. And if our diversions succeed, it should give time for reinforcements to arrive. That should deal with Ciro's forces."

"What kind of reinforcements do we have that could deal with an entire Imperial Army?" The Esteban-Raven raised its wings in sheer bafflement. "What army do we have? Which city has agreed to betray the Emperor? Is it the Puppet Mines?"

The Painter grimaced. I wish it was the Mines. Even so, he couldn't tell Esteban of all people the truth about the reinforcements. The man was mostly loyal, but he would raise hell about having to keep a city running during a siege if he knew what his only hope actually was. Still, Valeria sounded certain she could manage it. She'd better be right.

"Just trust us on this," Adam replied. The words must not have sounded adequately firm, because he heard a complaint through the Raven. "You have your orders," the Painter Lord said, more gravely. "Will you disobey them?"

Esteban caved. "No, my lord."

–

Their journey to the ruined city was both too long and too short. It was close enough that Adam would nervously wake up in the middle of the night, dreading the impending hour of destiny, yet far enough away that this process stretched on for days on end.

During one of those rough mornings, Solara brought him news that filled him with an odd blend of hope and despair. "You're sure of that?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow and sipping at his water. "Only six Hangmen are coming?"

She laughed haughtily in response, but concern laid just beneath the smirk. "Only six, he says, as if that wouldn't wipe cities clean off the map. Three heading for Gama, three more for Penumbria."

"And as for Gama..."

Solara nodded. "Father will do as you did. He has already rewritten Gama's Laws so that the Emperor's armies will be unable to enter. He then departed the city with his most trusted retinue to meet us at the Santuário das Chamas."

"Good. That should keep him and Gama safe...provided our plan works."

The Elf put a hand on his shoulder and sat to his left on the dining table bench. "I would say you needn't worry about our plans, but there is more to your concern, isn't there?" She tightened her grip. "You worry of your rival?"

Rival...now there's a word. "Eric will come after us. After me."

"And you fear not being able to best him?"

"That too," he admitted. "But most of all...I fear it all coming to an end. One way or another, Eric has been a huge part of my life. Regardless of what he did, I don't know if I would've fallen in love with art without him."

He gestured at the painting supplies he'd laid out on the table. If nothing else, the downtime had afforded him the chance to draw for fun again. Intrusive thoughts kept his enjoyment ever elusive, though.

"Feels strange to practice like this," Adam admitted. "Eric was the first person to teach it to me. Now, after everything...it feels wrong to continue applying what he taught me."

Solara shook her head and slouched over. "Why?" Her voice was almost too jovial, failing to hide a note of bitterness at the end. When Adam didn't answer, she allowed herself a moment of silence before saying, "Even people who don't hate elves keep their distance from me. Not at first, but the pressure and ridicule of being seen near me eventually become too much."

He turned to face her in surprise. What could he say to that?

"I despise them," Solara said, so quietly that Adam had to lean closer to listen. "To be brave enough to approach me in earnest friendship, then to leave out of cowardice...why could they not have been whole cowards from the start? That would hurt less."

Adam bit his lip, hesitating before replying. "I'm sorry. I can't imagine how hard that must've been." Was that the right thing to say? "I promise," he added, "that no matter what happens in the future, I won't–"

Solara held up her hand to interrupt him. Her gaze was intense, and it told Adam that this wasn't about that. "Even so, every morning I brush my hair the way I was instructed to by the young maid at the castle...who eventually left out of fear. To this day, I still love the game of Espada de Guerra that the quartermaster taught me...before he ran off to the other side of the Empire lest he be seen as friendly to an elf. Even now, I smile and taunt in a manner that this boy I used to like said he found perplexing. Although I can barely remember my mother's face, I still eat my soup before my potatoes, just as she once taught me."

The elf held her flickering gaze at him. "All of their love is a color – and I am the painting that came out of it. Even if the ink is dry, it is still a part of me."

She picked up the tablet and gently laid it across Adam's lap. "Do not throw away that which is already part of you. Take what you can. Embrace what you need. And let go of what you must."

The Painter felt like he wanted to think over his response, to make sure that his words sounded right. But he also knew that speaking without thinking would be more true to the heart. "I'll try," he said, softly. "I'll keep what I got from him...and reclaim what I lost."

There was a lot he'd lost when befriending Eric. If Adam was being honest with himself, he had abandoned numerous hobbies out of fear that his then-friend wouldn't approve. Even today, he occasionally remembered how he'd stopped playing tennis because Eric hated the sport.

Adam felt haunted by how much complex of a person he used to be, before he made himself acceptable for Eric's sensitivities.

He must have been lost in his thoughts for a while, because he didn't even notice when Tenver approached. The knight sat next to his right side on the dining table bench. "Do you hate the Gryphon?" he asked, sincerely.

"I need to hate him," Adam whispered. "Because in the cold winter I was left with after he betrayed me, hating him felt addictively warm. It made everything easier. The bright red from that fire made my blue life less noticeable."

"Yet fire cannot burn forever," Solara pointed out. "You have to learn to live without it."

Adam nodded. "It's scary," he admitted, "to snuff out those flames. I'm worried I might freeze to death."

Tenver tossed an arm over his shoulder. "We'll be there to keep you warm," he promised.

"Thank you," he muttered.

They sat like that for some time. Not a word was exchanged – nor did they need to. In that companionable silence, more was spoken and shared than a full speech's worth of intent.

"Well," Solara eventually said, standing up and clapping her hands. "We're probably dying soon, so why don't you entertain my dying wish and indulge me with a game of Espada de Guerra? I really don't have many people to play with."

Adam smiled at her. Spending hours painting those figures with her had been a blessing over these last couple days. It'd let him focus his mind on something other than the upcoming war; to forget about the weight of thousands of lives that he'd placed upon his shoulders.

I know how much this game matters to her, too. It should be a crime that people refused to play with Solara simply because she's an elf. For a moment, Adam absently considered actually making it a crime. If she wants to play, we might as well give it a shot.

When he looked up at Tenver, he was surprised to find a raised eyebrow on his face. "I find the game questionable," the Puppet Prince said, with a dismissive shrug. "It appears too simple to be engaging."

Adam could feel the sudden stiffness in the elf beside him. "Have you ever played it before, your oh so Royal Highness?"

"No, but I am familiar with the rules. It's not a difficult game. We may play if it amuses you, however."

The Puppet Prince maintained his typical regal air, combined with a gentle, almost haughty confidence. He brushed fingers through his thick hair as he spoke, punctuating it all with a captivating smirk.

–

One Hour Later

"THE DICE MUST BE LOADED!"

Tenver's voice was so loud that it could have been heard across the ship. He sank his head into two open palms, practically vibrating with frustration. "That is not – that is not fair!"

Adam eyed Tenver with growing curiosity. Frankly speaking, he'd never seen the knight this upset before. Hmm...no, that's not quite it. I've seen him downright furious in the past. What's different now?

For one, Tenver didn't look as charismatically attractive as he usually did. His distinctive smirk had been replaced by something close to a pout, his ever-perfect hair was now messily falling over his face, and his regal air had been banished away by a mask of petty anger. "This game is a sham!" he declared. "You're a sham! I want a rematch!"

Solara laughed, sipping at the drink Tenver had brought her earlier, and then grinned at him. "Oh, does His Royal Highness not think the game so simple anymore?"

"Rematch!" Tenver exclaimed, with drunken enthusiasm. "As future Emperor, I demand it!" Despite his intensity, there was a smile hidden behind the man's exaggerated outrage. "Now! Play again!"

The elf laughed haughtily and started to set their pieces again. "Very well, as you wish! Now listen, you have to position your pieces better–"

"–I want to poison your water supplies!"

"That's...not in the rules."

Tenver turned his cup upside down until no liquid was left, slammed it against the table, then stared at Solara for a few seconds. "War has no rules," he said, in a slow, deep voice. "Let me roll the dice."

"It doesn't work like that!" Her reply was nearly muffled by her own laughter. Tenver said something in response too, but his own laughter drowned it out.

That's it, Adam realized. Tenver is just...relaxed, right now. He's usually always putting on airs. Trying to seem like the noble, better-than-you, calm and collected type. Now he's dropping his guard. Appearing vulnerable. Adam fixed his gaze on Tenver's messy hair. Not trying to look perfect.

That was good. Tenver deserved that. Trying to project an image like that to everyone was exhausting – Adam would know.

Solara looks happy and relaxed, he noted, looking at the inebriated elf. That's good too. She deserves it after all the time she spent in her tower...and how lonely her life was even before that. I'm happy for them both.

Adam carefully placed an elbow on the table, fully aware of how much he'd drank as well, then attempted to rest the side of his face on his palm. He would've succeeded if he didn't suddenly jerk upright over an unexpected sensation. "What – what's that on my face?" he shouted.

Tenver and Solara were quick to rush to either side of him, nearly falling over in the process. "Adam, is everything okay?" the knight asked. "There's nothing on you."

"Then what's..." Adam rubbed the side of his face again. It had started to hurt a while ago. What was–

Oh. Me too, huh?

"I'm smiling," he muttered, in disbelief. "I...didn't even notice when I started doing it. Just realized it when my cheeks started to hurt, and my face felt weird."

Solara slapped him across the back with so much strength that the momentum sent her falling to the floor as she laughed hysterically. "Are you fucking serious, Adam?"

Tenver filled in his glass once more and raised to the sky. "To our dear stupid genius!"

And he would have drank it all again, had Solara not leapt to her feet and tried to stop him. "Puppet bastard, you had enough already, I don't want to clean up after you – Adam, help!"

Though he did help, he couldn't keep the Prince from drinking, and the three of them went on laughing and having fun for hours to come. How long had it been since Adam felt this relaxed? I want to feel this way again, he thought, a quiet determination burning in his heart. Over and over again. I don't want this to be a memory. I want it to be my future.

There was only so much planning they could do, and the Airship controlled itself. It let them enjoy several more carefree nights like these, each better than the last.

And then...

And then they arrived at the Santuário das Chamas, whereupon the showdown with Eric awaited.