I’m giving myself six months before I say screw it and run out of here. Adam may have had a plan, but he wasn’t married to it. He was absolutely not going to stay there for twenty years. He was, however, willing to spend six months there to learn more about the world...and to test out a theory.

To do that, he had to find out more about Aspreay. What made the man tick? Why was he the way he was?

Adam’s next few days were more comfortable than anticipated. He expected to be little more than a prisoner, but was instead quickly moved to an isolated room in the back of the castle. Sure, the place wasn’t really much better than his cell, but at least it was more dignified.

The day after that, Lord Aspreay called upon him. “Observe and paint,” he said, in a dry voice. “I want you in the Great Hall with me. Find a quiet corner and stay quiet. Your job is to capture what you see. Paint me as I respond to petitioners, meet with foreign lords, and conduct my business. Capture me rightly, yes? Do not commit to the canvas any imperfections. Are you capable of it?”

“Yes, my lord,” Adam responded, bowing gracefully. “It will be my honor.” Posh bastard.

“Will you capture my image beautifully and accurately?”

Adam smiled. “I will capture it beautifully.”

The lord nodded. “Wonderful.” This appeared to satisfy him. “Go set yourself up then.”

Adam quickly found a corner. The castle’s servants set him up with canvases, tarps, and other supplies. It was an odd place to work, but he could make do.

There were worse things to endure.

“My lord, I – I have come here to...” The hunchback trailed off, aiming eyes low and hat crumbling between shaky hands. He was quiet, but his mouth was hung open and his lips quivered faster than the sweat dripping from his forehead. “I...I have...come...to....”

“Speak.” Lord Aspreay’s voice cut like an icy knife. “Let us not pretend we do not understand what our roles are. A petitioner petitions, and a ruler rules. I cannot fulfill my role until you fulfill yours.”

The hunchback took this as encouragement. Adam wasn’t sure he should have. “My lord, thank you! I...” He shook his head and appeared to gain some confidence. “Winter will be harsh this year, you see, and...and my family will starve. W–we can barely afford to pay for our house, let alone our food!”

Lord Aspreay’s voice remained unchanged from its businesslike tone. “Why?”

“My lord?” The man looked up in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Why will your family starve? I would not call you young, so this is clearly not your first winter. Your family did not starve last winter. What differs?” Lord Aspreay leaned forward on his throne. “Have you gambled away your Orbs?”

“No!” the petitioner cried out. “My lord, I used to be a blacksmith. Every year until the last, I used to work day and night to provide for my family. The fire from my forge kept us warm, and the weapons I sold kept us fed. But the incident with those foreigners...”

“Ah.” Aspreay relaxed into his throne, leaning back and resting the side of his head on three outstretched fingers. When he spoke again, the lord’s tone was solemn. “You have been a hunchback ever since?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“How much do you need to live through winter?”

“Five – five thousand orbs, my lord. We are a family of five.”

Lord Aspreay nodded at his cloaked servant. “Roland, give this man and his family six thousand Orbs.” Before the petitioner could react, Aspreay added, “You will not receive this boon again. Make sure your sons are trained to take over your job come spring.”

Adam’s hands joined the applause that followed, even if his heart did not. There were plenty of cheers and boisterous claims that their lord was just, kind, but how many of them actually meant it? Probably not too many. Anyone standing in this hall knew that kissing the lord’s ass was probably the best way to stay alive.

Then again...I didn’t expect that, Adam considered as he watched on. Aspreay handed the purse of Orbs to the man, then waved him off. I saw him launch an innocent woman through the goddamn walls just because she went to a different city first. How come he’s behaving like this? Is he kind to his citizens, just not to foreigners?

It sounded like a good hypothesis, but it was disproven only two days later, when another petitioner knelt before the throne. This one announced himself as Conde, a once-farmer.

“Our farmhouse burned down, milord, nothin’ left but ashes,” he pleaded. “We don’t have the Orbs to build it again, not even close. It’s been a good season, milord but if we don’t have somewhere to store it...”

Aspreay held a hand to silence him. The lord studied a piece of parchment Roland had brought him, and nobody dared speak. The farmer remained kneeling on the ground, visibly trembling as he waited. Throughout it all the lord would occasionally sigh, look up at the petitioner, then glanced back at the parchment.

“We have need of this farmhouse,” Aspreay muttered. “Our city cannot afford to waste valuable grain come winter. Roland, see to it that the storage house is rebuilt—”

“Thank you milord,” the farmer cried out, bowing on his knees, “you are the kindest, most wise—”

“—and then start the process of handing the farm to someone else,” he finished, in a bored tone. “Hand me a list of candidates with a farming adjacent Talent. Give me their background, family history, everything our archives have on them. We need that list done in a few days, you hear me?”

Roland nodded at once. The farmer stood up, mouth hanging open and eyes so wide his eyelids appeared hidden. “Milord, have mercy! My family...it was an accident! It couldn’t be avoided!”

“It hardly matters why the infernal thing burnt down,” Lord Aspreay fired back. “If by accident, then you should have been more careful. If by victim of some lowlife, then you should have protected it better. What matters is that Penumbria cannot afford to lose our crops. As for your punishment–”

What the hell, Adam thought, forcing himself to focus on his canvas, are your priorities? Why did you punish this man and not the last? Are you just hardcore set into protecting the city even at the cost of its citizens? Is that it?

Adam was hesitant to describe Lord Aspreay as having a set of principles. In truth, he was hesitant to describe him at all. There was something weird about him.

Maybe...he’s just a utilitarian psycho who justifies sacrifices by telling himself that it’s for the greater good...or something. It was the only theory that didn’t conflict with anything else so far. It would explain why he let Adam live, why he banished that woman, why he helped the hunchback blacksmith, and why he hadn’t helped that last man.

Well, mostly. There was nothing about the injured blacksmith that really benefited the city. Maybe Aspreay needed the man to pass down his skills to his sons? It was a bit odd, but Adam still felt like it was a valid theory.

When he’d finally set himself on accepting that as the likely truth, Lord Aspreay disproved it the very next day.

“...that is why I was wondering if maybe, maybe you could give me aid, milord?” the petitioner begged. This one had the Talent of carpentry. He’d worked as a builder up until the day he fell from a two-story building and broke his back. Adam paid careful attention to his story, noting that there was nothing the man had done wrong. “I–I do not ask it for free. If there is anything a man with a broken back can do for you, milord, please tell me. My life is yours.”

Aspreay remained silent for longer than usual. He set his wine glass on the throne’s arm. His face turned dark, his brows furrowed, and his eyes shifted over the parchment multiple times. Twice he opened his mouth before closing it again without saying anything. At one point he called Roland over, gestured at the parchment, then sent him away. When the cloaked servant returned with a different roll of sheets and a shake of his head, the lord let his head hang low for a moment before speaking.

“We cannot help you,” Aspreay said, without looking up. “Penumbria suffers. We can only offer our prayers.”

“Milord, I beg of you, my family–”

“Guards,” Aspreay said, in a tired tone, “take him away.” Then, hesitantly, added, “Be gentle. Do not hurt him further. This is a good man.”

“MILORD—!”

Only the carpenter’s desperate screams echoed throughout the Great Hall. The tables full of nobles and royal guards didn’t dare to move a muscle. No one even sipped their drink. Long after the double-doors had shut and sealed the petitioner away, the silence remained, growing thicker, denser by the second.

Then, without warning, Aspreay shattered his wine glass against the wall and shouted, “DAMNED BE THE EMPEROR!”

No one dared to even look in his direction. No one but Adam, who studied him from behind his canvas with a burning curiosity. What exactly are your morals, Aspreay?

“That bastard – our people are suffering! Does he have no heart? Someone should kill–”

Roland put a hand to his arm. “My lord, those are dangerous words to utter.”

Aspreay shook the hand off, but did not finish the threat. Instead, he grit his teeth and said, “We cannot help them. There’s not enough bloody Orbs for the amount of people we...we need more!”

The lord lifted his gaze and aimed it at his courtiers. None dared to look at him, and Adam felt all too relieved that Aspreay appeared to have forgotten of his existence. The painter thought that maybe the lord planned on laying some of the blame at his courtiers’ feet. Reason prevailed, and instead he merely stood from his throne and stormed out of the Great Hall.

He only came back an hour later, appeased by a theater troupe brought on to perform for him, and by the Great Hall being converted into a stage. After the second fight scene, he cracked a smile, and by the time the juggler performed their soliloquy he nearly appeared back to normal.

Once he called forth a lavish dinner and was greeted by a particularly indulgent display of meat, it was as if the incident had never happened.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

--

Aspreay was serious about not allowing Adam to speak a single word. If not for Tenver, Adam was pretty certain he’d have forgotten the sound of his own voice. Not that it would be the first time that happened. Between part-time jobs and his school workload, he was pretty used to being alone.

Both he and Tenver were lacking in friends and found themselves drinking a nightly cup of tea. Adam was neither allowed to speak in the Great Hall nor leave the castle at all, so his room was where they met.

“Okay, I’m gonna be honest – I really don’t get this guy,” Adam grumbled. “He’s always ready to send someone flying. Banishment, execution, he’s down with everything. But sometimes he seems like...he genuinely wants to help. Like he’s frustrated when he can’t.”

Tenver laughed. It looked genuine, but Adam detected a note of bitterness. “Aspreay is...difficult. There’s good in him, yet I can’t deny his good actions anymore than I can deny his atrocities.”

Well, at least the lord seemed as odd to everyone else as he did to Adam. If everyone in this world was that weird, he might have just given up.

“I need to understand that bastard,” Adam muttered. “Need to find out what exactly drives him.”

Tenver leaned forward. “That’s good. Don’t lose that spirit.” He stared straight at Adam, his gaze turning more serious. “Everyone around here likes to consider him insane. They assume he can’t be reasoned with.”

“You disagree?” Adam raised an eyebrow.

“Not quite. But we need to reason with him regardless, so who cares if he’s mad? Things have to change. The city...”

Adam remembered the tumor growing from the side of decayed houses. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

“Things can’t stay like this. They have to change, and only Aspreay has a Lord Talent. No one else does.”

“I take it...that’s a rare talent?”

Tenver stared at him blankly before realization dawned on him. “Sometimes I forget that you forgot,” he joked. “Yeah. It’s one of the rarest Talents there are. It’s not one you can just learn. You have to be born with the aptitude for it.”

There was another brief note of bitterness on Tenver’s face. He’s a nobleman, but his Talent is Archery, not Lordship. Maybe his parents had it and he didn’t? “I guess that means you can’t just request the Emperor to send a replacement, huh.”

“No, because first of all that would be treason,” Tenver laughed. “But second of all, yeah, the Empire doesn’t always have enough lords laying around waiting to be used. And even if they do, they wouldn’t be in a hurry to send someone here. We are at the edge of the Empire, way too close to the Rot.”

Adam considered asking more about the Rot. It felt like he could ask more about it, and yet...something kept his words from leaving his throat. He didn’t know why. Yes, it might be dangerous if people found out he was from another world...but surely he could trust Tenver at least a little bit, right?

Trust doesn’t come easy, Adam thought, bitterly.

Better to be safe. People here were paranoid about the Rot – they’d nearly executed him just because he mentioned fighting a monster that had been affected by it. What if they thought he was a weird death cultist or something? No reason to risk it. He could find out more about it through osmosis, just by remaining on the court.

“I don’t get that guy....” Adam muttered. “Wish he made a bit more sense. Guess I gotta keep trying ’til I figure him out.”

Tenver widened his grin. “That’s right. Don’t give up that attitude. Things aren’t perfect, but we have to approach it properly. Using force alone won’t solve anything – we need to have a dialogue with him. Aspreay isn’t a good ruler, but I don’t think he’s beyond salvation. There is good in there, somewhere.”

Adam sighed and said nothing. He peered into his tea glass, contemplating his immediate plans. There was much he didn’t know about this world, but he was learning more and more every day. It would be easy to get complacent, to stay in the city for too long...and that was why he wanted to make sure his plans were moving forward.

Six months. I won’t allow myself to stay here any longer. Before that date, I have to understand Aspreay as much as I can. What makes him tick? Is there really ‘good’ in him like Tenver says?

--

One month in, and Adam was nowhere closer to understanding the man.

Aspreay’s judgment remained as passionate as it was unpredictable. At times he would show surprising kindness, and at others he would disdainfully – if not sadistically – enjoy dishing out punishment. Strangest of all, sometimes he expressed regret at the same decisions that, in the moment, he would make without batting an eye.

It was easy to think of him just as a madman, but there had to be more to it.

What was the pattern? There had to be one!

“Send him to the dungeons – he will remain there for twenty days, then be escorted in the next royal trading caravan to his home city,” Aspreay declared, to a man who entered Penumbria illegally.

“For your crimes, you will be banished,” Aspreay declared later that same day, to a man guilty of the same crime, from the same city as the one before. He flicked his wrist, and the man was sent flying through the dividing wall.

Occasionally he would grant Orbs to those begging for help, and sometimes he would banish them. Though he would wax poetic about their faults and favors regarding the city, there didn’t seem to be a noticeable difference between them.

The only common factor Adam noticed was that Aspreay tended to be less judgemental in the morning. BUT WHY?

It was during one such morning, when his mood was considerably better, that he seemed to remember Adam existed. For the first time since he’d welcomed him into the court, Aspreay walked up behind the canvases to see how his paintings were turning out.

“Remarkable,” he said, his mouth hanging open. “Utterly breathtaking.” He gestured at the set of canvases laid side by side. “Those are of the petitioners?”

Adam nodded. “My lord doesn’t usually see them for very long, so they aren’t very detailed for the most part.” Truthfully, Adam mostly sketched out an outline during the petitions and did the full painting later in his cell. He had nothing if not free time. Maybe the result wasn’t always completely accurate to what they looked like, but it was close enough.

“These are not very detailed?” the lord asked incredulously. “They look positively lifelike!”

The lord stretched out his fingers toward one, when Adam cried out angrily, “Don’t!” He hadn’t meant to shout. It wasn’t until he saw the lord’s expression that he realized his mistake. Ah. Crap. Aspreay didn’t even look angry. His face was blank, his brow furrowed, as though Adam had spoken in a foreign language. Have to fix this somehow. What do I say? Ah—Ahh—

“The paint isn’t dry, my lord,” Adam told him. “It would be my....” How would someone from this world phrase this? He closed his eyes and drew a deep, if quick breath. “A stain on your fine clothes would be a stain on my honor, my lord.”

Slowly, surprise gave way to a satisfied smile. “Ah, of course. Your caution is appreciated, painter.” His eyes shifted back to the painting Adam was working on. “Still, I must say, your work is impressive. You have forgotten your life, but not your purpose. Good.”

Adam had to fight himself to not like the man a little.

He despised Aspreay’s abuse of power, his callousness towards matters of life and death. But the lord praised his art, and Adam hated how much it made him want to excuse the man’s other crimes.

“Marvelous,” the lord repeated. He remained in that awkward position, standing behind Adam with a hand to his shoulder in silence. Come on. What now? No shot you expect me to keep working like this. After a long pause, Aspreay said, “You will paint the city’s treasures at night.”

Adam noticed that he wasn’t given a choice on whether he would want to do that or not. He could understand the subtext well enough. “It will be my honor, my lord.”

“I will have a guard walk you to the treasure room and wait for you there,” Aspreay said. When Adam eyed him curiously, he said with a smirk, “Those are important treasures. Would you have me trust someone to be in the treasure room alone?”

His tone made it clear that the lord worried for both Adam and any of his guards attempting to do something with those treasures. “I would never ask you to trust anyone other than yourself, my lord.”

It was a callous response, and Adam nearly regretted it before he saw a smile creep into the noble’s face. “See, Adam, I knew I liked you for a reason. At times you understand things with greater deftness of wit than my advisors.”

In response, Adam smiled politely and nodded along. He’d amused the man, somehow, and didn’t mean to waste the chance. Gotta keep him happy. What should I say? He’ll probably smell out my bullshit if I’m not half-honest. What would he want to hear that I also would like to say?

Slowly, Adam opened his mouth, a bitter smile coming to his face. “I understand little, my lord, but I know the perils of trust.”

“Maybe I should banish Roland and have you become my advisor instead,” Aspreay laughed.

For that lone moment Adam imagined it all too clearly. With the position of advisor, he would slowly lead Aspreay toward slowly becoming less cruel, more practical. Maybe make him use his Orbs more wisely, in a way that benefited the common people of Penumbria more. In that vision, the reckless lord slowly saw the error of his ways and became a wiser, kinder version of himself. He even helped Adam find out why he had been sent to another world, purely out of the goodness in his heart.

Not gonna happen, he reminded himself. It wasn’t a distressing thought; just a realistic one. Dreams didn’t come true that easily. Someone like Aspreay could joke about it, but he would never elevate someone he saw as a ‘commoner’ to a high-ranking position in his court.

Adam made sure to keep that in mind as his plan continued to form.