Chapter 51: Chapter Fifty – Vim – Lord Carvill’s Fire

The Lord Knight of the Carvill family appeared to be the real deal.

He sat back in his chair, sighing softly as he studied Renn. At first he had looked at her with interested eyes… maybe either because of her beauty, or her demeanor… but now he was studying her for another reason.

“I’ve never heard of the Proscilla family,” Carvill said simply.

I held back a smile as I lowered my judgment of this man. He was a real knight. A true warrior. But he was not a politician. Not a negotiator.

He wasn’t a merchant, or a noble. At least, not the kind of noble I feared.

“The Proscilla family oversees several fishing towns, and river villages, in the south of Harden. They do so for the principality of the Winged Church,” I said smoothly. The man’s eyes never left Renn, even as I spoke.

“Don’t boast.”

For the smallest of moments I didn’t realize who had spoken… until I saw the two men raise their eyebrows in respect.

Lowering my head, to bow to the woman who had spoken so flatly and calmly, I wished I could give her a smile.

She probably had no idea how flawlessly she had just proven her legitimacy to these men.

“I do know of our sisterhood the Winged Church. Forgive me as I’ve not had the pleasure of spending much time in the south. So… to what degree did my household wrong you, pray tell?” Carvill asked calmly.

Although he had relaxed a little, there was still a hint of worry in his eyes. It didn’t reach his voice, but I heard it in the way his left foot had started to twitch. He most likely thought we wouldn’t notice, especially since we couldn’t see it since the desk blocked it, but I could hear it clearly.

He was anxiously fidgeting.

“Milady has a fancy for… certain quality paintings. She had commissioned a portrait from an artist that called your city home. We arrived a few days ago, after finishing up a small matter in the port of Nevi, to take possession of it. Only upon our arrival here, we’ve come to learn that you had confiscated the painting,” I spoke evenly, explaining the situation.

For the first time since I had entered the office, the Lord of Carvill looked at me.

Now he studied me, and I noticed the way he smirked a little as he did.

He had originally thought me a simple servant, yet now saw me as someone worth keeping an eye on.

Interesting. He really was the real deal.

Seriously… why did the humans always get the good ones?

“My men did indeed confiscate paintings just last week… you say that one of them was yours?” he asked.

I nodded, but did so with reverence. “All the Proscilla family asks is to be allowed ownership of the painting they purchased rightfully,” I said.

Carvill frowned, but not in a bad way. He looked at the man named Lawrence, who stood next to the desk with a troubled expression. “There were hundreds of paintings in that building sir,” Lawrence said.

Carvill nodded. “Indeed there had been…” the man then reached over, to the edge of his desk, and tapped a bundle of scrolls. “Three scrolls. Three years of payments missed, another two still not gone through,” he added.

A small part of me wanted to walk over and grab those scrolls of his desk. Even if I had to do so over his body.

I kept myself in check as I nodded. “We only ask for the one owed to us, nothing more,” I said.

“‘Tis an honest and genuine request,” Carvill said as he scratched his chin. He, like most of the knights here, were clean shaven. Yet I heard stubble as he scratched.

“Do you have proof of this purchase?” Lawrence then asked.

“Of course we do,” Renn said flatly.

The two men flinched, and Carvill actually glanced at Lawrence with a glare.

It wasn’t really an answer that deserved such a reaction… but it wasn’t the answer that bothered them, but the tone in Renn’s voice.

They interpreted her quick response as if she had felt insulted by them.

You never insulted a noble like that. Especially when one was a knight.

Even if Carvill, and this Lawrence, were nobles themselves… right now they were simple knights. Acting commanders and captains, yes, but not liegelords or rulers themselves.

Pulling out a small letter, I strode towards the desk calmly and placed it upon the desk.

Neither Carvill nor Lawrence made any move to open and verify our claims.

“What if the painting… your painting, madam Proscilla, isn’t there? What if we hadn’t been the ones to claim it?” Carvill asked, a little worried now.

“Then compensation would be in order, would it not?” Renn asked… Somehow sounding a little fed up with this conversation.

Carvill winced, and nodded. “Indeed it would.”

Stepping away from the desk, I turned to walk back to my spot. Allowing me to give Renn a tiny smile without being seen.

She blinked, and I heard her tail beneath her silk dress shift its position.

Going back to my spot next to Renn, I turned around and watched Carvill tap the letter I had just given him. He hadn’t opened it. Probably didn’t plan to either, at least not anytime soon.

Opening it now, after he had just insulted a young woman of a prominent noble family, would only be a further insult.

He’d wait until we were gone before opening, lest he dared risk her anger.

Carvill sighed and nodded. “I shall allow your man to inspect the paintings. Lawrence, please summon Codey,” he ordered.

“Sir,” Lawrence nodded and turned to leave. He must have been expecting the order, for he had nearly begun to move before Carvill had finished speaking.

“We thank you,” I said with a small bow.

Carvill nodded again. “Please return if you fail to find it, Madam. And we shall properly handle the mistaken misplacement,” Carvill said gently.

Renn luckily understood his words for the simple dismissal they were, for she nodded and turned away.

Giving the Lord of the Carvill Knights a bow, I too went to follow Renn out of his office. Dutifully accompanying her as a servant would.

Leaving the office, I found that Lawrence was rather far down the hallway already. Renn stared at him, unsure of what to do.

I stepped forward just enough to give her the right guidance. She glanced at me, and then nodded and went to walking forward.

She walked slowly, and I was thankful for it. A servant was to hurry to us, not the other way around.

After a few steps, we grew far enough away from the door that I felt comfortable enough to give her a compliment.

“Well done. That went great,” I said softly.

Her hat shifted a little, and I wondered how no one else noticed. Granted it was… small, tiny movements… but…

Though maybe the only reason I noticed was simply because I liked to see her reactions to certain things.

“What now?” she asked with a whisper. One low enough that even I barely understood her.

“I’m sure that man will return with whoever is to guide us to the paintings, Milady,” I said lightly.

She glanced at me, as if upset I’d keep playing along at a time like this.

“Almost there. A little more. Keep it up, you’re doing phenomenal. I might marry you off to a noble at this rate, since it seems to suit you,” I said.

Renn was about to say something to me, but went quiet as Lawrence and another man approached us. The two hurried down the hall, and I watched as the young lad who accompanied behind Lawrence stared at Renn.

Amused, I stayed silent as the two bowed their heads to Renn. “Madam, this is Codey. He shall guide you to the storeroom where we put all the paintings we’ve confiscated,” Lawrence said.

Studying his eyes, which strained to look at Renn as he bowed, I wondered if maybe I had severely underestimated how good looking Renn was.

I should have realized it. After all, even I had found her attractive…

“I’ll be your guide, my lady!” the young boy, Codey, happily introduced himself… even if he did so with a red face.

“Lead the way,” Renn said plainly.

The two nodded, and Lawrence stepped aside… going closer to the wall of the hallway. He stayed there, watching us go as Codey lead us away, back towards the entrance of the building.

Following Renn, who followed the young boy, I did my best to ignore the stare from Lawrence as we left him behind.

Her good looks were definitely a factor.

Somehow, even though it helped us in this subterfuge, I found it upsetting.

Luckily we didn’t run into any other knights as we were lead to another section of the building. So I didn’t need to glare at anyone else, other than the young boy who sometimes tried to glance behind him to catch a glimpse.

Being led to a large door, I found it a little odd how there wasn’t a lock upon it as he opened it for us.

Sure enough, within the room… I could not only see familiar looking crates, but could also smell the stink of old paint.

They were here.

“It will be… dark in there. Shall I procure a torch, Milady?” Codey asked as he stared into the dark room.

To me, and undoubtedly Renn as well, the room wasn’t that dark at all… but we weren’t ourselves here. We were humans.

“Please,” I said for Renn.

The boy nodded, but seemed disappointed that I had been the one to answer and not her. He spun on a heel and hurried off, towards another hallway.

“He’s cute,” Renn said softly as we watched him hurry away.

“Is he?” I asked. Really?

Suddenly Renn turned… then after half a second she snorted and smirked at me.

“What?” I asked her.

“So are you when you’re jealous,” she said.

Renn suddenly broke out into a huge smile, and she quickly covered her mouth with her hand as she chuckled. “Ha!” she did her best to stop herself from laughing aloud.

Although I knew I should chastise her, and tell her to calm down… instead I found myself smiling at her.

For the tiniest moment, I forgot we were in enemy territory, surrounded by quasi-religious knights.

For a single moment, I forgot that my entire goal for the last few days was finally right in front of me. Literally within reach.

Instead all I could think of, see, or hear… was the woman next to me.

“Your face!” she snickered, covering her mouth so her voice didn’t sound too loud.

Watching Renn snicker as she did everything she could to control herself… I stepped back and bit my tongue.

Don’t laugh. Don’t smile.

“Haha,” she giggled away, pleased with herself. Her happy eyes were getting watery, which I hoped was just because she was emotionally excited at the sight of the paintings before us… but I knew the truth.

Renn stifled a sniff, containing herself, since off in the distance near the end of the hallway we noticed shadows dancing. A light was approaching. Most likely our torch.

“Collect yourself,” I said softly as the young lad rounded the corner, carrying a small metal lamp. It flickered as he hurried.

“Sure, sure,” Renn smirked, doing all she could to control her amusement.

Sighing, I glanced into the storeroom before me.

I’d not be able to tell if this was all of the paintings… but it definitely looked like it. There had to be over a dozen large crates, and several piles of stacked paintings as well.

“Milady,” Codey approached, and smiled warmly at Renn as he hefted the lamp for her.

Stepping forward, the young knight went stiff as I reached out to take the lamp from him.

He didn’t stop me from taking it, but it was quite clear he had expected to hold the lamp for Renn. To both aid her himself, and be near her.

“Do you know anything of these paintings, sir knight?” I asked him.

He blinked at me, a little shocked by the question. “I… I helped unload them, my lord… but nothing else, no. I heard that they’re to be auctioned off this festival, however.”

“I see,” I nodded, and then turned to look at Renn. “I shall be prompt my lady… however…” I spoke slowly, making a point.

“Hm. Indeed. Prompt as the snowfall, I’m sure. You there, Sir Codey? Where may I go to sit and rest, then?” Renn asked the boy.

Codey stood up straighter, and didn’t succeed at all in hiding his happy smile. “Of course! Right this way Miss!” he gestured down the hall he had just come from, happy to oblige.

I bowed lightly, both in thanks to the young boy… and to Renn.

When the boy turned, to guide her, I noticed the happy smirk she gave me as she went to follow him.

Nodding lightly at her, I stood back up straight and watched her go.

“There is a pleasant waiting area in the nearby greenhouse,” the boy said happily, unable to take his eyes off her.

Shaking my head at him, and the woman who gave him a welcoming smile, I glanced around to make sure I was now alone.

The hallway we were in wasn’t as fancy or as large as the others… but it was also definitely one often traveled. The white stone was worn down in the center of the hallway, from many years of metal boots and feet.

I’d need to be swift.

Stepping into the storeroom, I closed the door a little. Not all the way, just enough to hopefully block the dancing shadows caused by the lamp I carried.

Hefting the lamp up, I scanned the room. It was about thrice the size of the Lord’s office, and…

Yes. These were the paintings. Very likely all of them, too.

Stepping into the mess, since the crates and piles had been stacked a little randomly… I wondered if they had even catalogued them yet. By the looks, they’d…

Running my fingers along the face of one of the paintings that had been laid upwards, on the top of a crate, I stared at the line of dust I had made.

They hadn’t studied them at all yet.

Chances are they had seized them… and then promptly brought them straight here.

There was still of course the chance that some of them had been pilfered, by the knights who had transported them here… but…

Picking a random crate, I pulled a painting out of it. To study it closer.

It was the painting I’d seen before in the attic. One of an old lumber village.

Putting it back, I found another. It was one of Lughes’ old paintings, of his mountaintops.

The sight hurt, so I quickly put it back too.

Another painting was one of ours. Of the Society. The hairy cheeked family, that stood around the crib of their newborn, made me sigh.

Dropping the painting back into the crate, I stepped around to another crate. Within was many smaller paintings, closely packed together to the point that I had to tug rather hard to pull one out. Part of the paintings frame broke as I pulled it out. I ignored the wood as it splintered and fell back into the crate.

This painting was an old one. One of the first human painters that Lughes had employed.

I couldn’t remember her name… but I remembered those eyes. She always gave her paintings a strange glossy gleam, in the eyes of those she painted. It made the artwork look… special. Alive.

Putting it down, I glanced around at the… hundreds of pieces of art.

“A legacy,” I said.

That was what this was. A legacy. Not a page in a history book, but an entire book of history itself.

The lamp in my hand clanked as I lifted it higher, as if I actually needed the light to see better.

This was going to be horrible.

This was going to actually hurt me.

Maybe even hurt me more than finding the Sleepy Artist destroyed and ransacked had.

Closing my eyes, I tried to smell any hidden scents mixed into the paint and wood. I tried to smell for blood. For death.

I couldn’t make any such things out, but the stench of paint was overpowering.

If Lughes or Crane had been killed near these paintings, and their blood had splattered upon them… I couldn’t tell.

How regretful.

I was about to destroy hundreds of years of history.

Hundreds of years of skill and effort. Dozens of masters of their crafts had made these. Some of these paintings, even the normal ones, were more valuable than one could imagine.

Yet… even beyond that…

Stepping around a crate, I stared down at a painting that had been laid up against a crate. Its frame had been cracked, but it was still in one piece and hadn’t been ripped.

Bringing the lantern down, to illuminate it better, I stared at the picture of Rungle and his daughter.

Frowning, I blinked and was suddenly before them.

The large man, with hands bigger than my head.

The young woman, who had inherited her mother’s round ears.

The two had been the last of their family. The last of their kind.

And had been good friends, even till the end.

Blinking again, their voices faded… and I was back inside the cold stone keep of human knights and monks.

Taking a deep breath, I forcefully looked away from the painting.

I was likely the only one to remember them. Even if Lughes’ still lived, which was doubtful, his mind was too gone. He might remember them upon seeing that painting… but…

He’d not remember their stories.

Lifting the lantern, I tried to count the crates around me. Eight… nine?

All these stories. All these people. All these scenes.

I’d be the last to remember them…

Quickly my eyes ran along other paintings. Even the ones barely visible, where only a corner or part of the painting was revealed.

A certain grove, by an inlet.

A family of deer, running through yellow flowers.

“I’m so, so sorry,” I whispered.

Rungle and his daughter.

“Really, I am,” I said again.

Crane, and her human masters who died protecting her.

Stepping towards the crate in the back, farthest away from the door… I reached into my pocket to pull out the satchel.

Opening the small bag of twine, I poured some of the powder onto the painting on top of the crate’s lid.

Watching the powder accumulate on an ocean scene, where fishermen were trading with those who used to live in the coastal waters… I felt sick.

“Forgive me,” I told them, as I stepped away to pour some of the powder elsewhere.

The fact that the boy mentioned they were to be auctioned off at the upcoming festival, most likely the winters-end festival, had been a great blessing.

It meant that they hadn’t noticed yet how unique these paintings were.

A part of me had worried, since these knights were a religious order, but… their very religious tenants had saved us.

These knights, although most were noble born, weren’t nobles of the higher ranks.

Most probably knew nothing or very little of artwork. And as such, although probably looked and glanced at the paintings… hadn’t found them that interesting.

And if we were lucky, none of them had pilfered any yet. Or if any had been taken, by say the Lord Carvill himself, hopefully they had been one of the simple ones. The normal ones… of villages or religious motifs that had been commissioned.

Such thoughts were all that I could think of to keep myself from growing furious.

Walking around the room, I poured the powder where I could. Onto paintings. Into crates. On the floor, between the stacks, so the fire would eventually spread easier.

Getting closer to the door, I poured most of the remaining powder onto the crate nearest the door. As much as I could.

Then with a flick of the hand, I sent the satchel and the powder into the air. Spreading the remnants all throughout the room.

Taking a small breath, I noticed the new scent.

Mixed with paint and wood.

Lurking beneath the scents of the Sleepy Artist… was one far more pungent. Far more dangerous.

Looking to the right, at a medium sized painting… I hesitated right before throwing the lantern into the room.

Studying the painting… I suddenly heard a strange clanking sound as something snapped.

The lantern broke, falling from my hand.

Although I didn’t startle, I was a little surprised as I watched the metal lantern land on the floor and bounce. Turning my hand around, I stared at the little circle piece of metal that had acted as the handle.

In my anger I had squeezed it tightly enough to snap it.

Then the glass of the lantern shattered on its final bounce. The metal frame sparked against the alabaster stone.

The oil within the lantern splashed out, covering the nearby paintings and the powder now covering them.

Some of it even splashed my right shoe.

And finally the lantern stopped making noise. Stopped bouncing… and the world went still.

For the smallest moment nothing happened…

Then the fire ignited.

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