The Knight Once an Artist

Had it been so long since Akari drew the capital?

Having finally left the manor, there was a great weight that had unexpectedly lifted right off of Ain’s shoulders. Being cooped up in there for so long wasn’t a good feeling at all, so to be far from the grounds now was like being set free from his cage. However, he wasn’t entirely free of the mage, not yet. In the carriage that he was thrown into moments after saying goodbye to Marianne, across from the knight sat Salaeus, legs crossed as he stared out of the window. He pretended Ain wasn’t there, having completely switched tunes ever since they were driven from the manor’s gate, now onto the open road.

What he could remember about the kingdom’s central city, which was alternatively just called ‘the capital’, was mostly about its socioeconomic factors. The status there was proudly middle-class and above; poverty was scarcely visible, or rather, unnoticed. When one entered Ethyrlys’ capital, one couldn’t think such a pristine and wonderfully crafted city to have any spot of poverty lingering about. Still, every shining light came with a matching shadow here and there.

The architecture was Greco-Roman, to an extent, with pillars of common Corinthian fashions decorating most of the entrances to various homes, but there was still that signature Regency interior that accentuated the sort of wealth most people had thrown about. The fashion was just as emphasised, from loose blouses to ruffles and capes or cloaks befitting the honest fashion of those living comfortably. To live in the capital was more than sinking into luxury; it was an advantage to become something greater—

Or something along those lines, Akari tried to recall.

“Nervous?”

Akari had been thinking so hard about trying to picture the capital in his head that he almost hadn’t registered that Salaeus was talking to him suddenly. He assumed that their ride would continue in silence, but he was mistaken.

“No,”

It was both a lie and the truth to say he was and wasn’t. He was both. But he wasn’t nervous enough to let it show.

“When you meet him, you kneel, understood? Address him as ‘His Highness’; ‘His Majesty’ is reserved for when he becomes king. Don’t question a thing he tells you, obey him unconditionally, as you said—and never meet his eyes, you are beneath him.”

Just then, Salaeus finally looked up at Ain, fairly shocked to notice the knight already staring at him. With a glance up and down, he smiles awkwardly and turns back to look out the window. Even now, he was still trying to seem cordial. Ain wouldn’t buy it, nor would Akari. The footnote of Salaeus’ character sheet might a well have ‘EVIL’ in big bold lettering.

However, he couldn’t deny that what he said was anything but incorrect. That was the sort of etiquette Akari and Haruka had planned in the beginning: that there was this sort of undeniable loyalty held by Ain, not just towards the prince, but to those he worked alongside, even if that meant he would one day betray them. Akari would’ve held a finger to his mouth to start gnawing on his nails, though with a sharp cough from Salaeus, he renders himself back to reality and again resists temptation.

There were no more questions that came to mind, not any that seemed relevant as of now. Akari knew where they went from here; the carriage ride would be a minor scene, one that’s barely mentioned in the story, only being referenced once or twice by Ain when the prince asks him how his journey was. Even then, that conversation itself was lacklustre and devoid of any liveliness. He dreaded the moment they would meet, aware that it would become the beginning of something horrible.

Sooner than he expected, time would pass, and as his gaze lingered out the window, it wouldn’t be until he had accidentally locked eyes with someone outside that he would finally notice a change of scenery. A young woman was taken aback by the sudden appearance of a lord’s carriage riding out through the capital’s bordering towns. Amidst her curiosity, she had spotted Ain’s face, staring back at her with quiet wonder. His gaze fell from her face as he looked away and turned to look down into his lap.

Staring down at his gloved hands, he pinched the fabric, stretching and rubbing the silk over his knuckles, trying to dig himself into this reality.

He pressed down, prodding his thumbnail into the ridge between two knuckles, and his lips eventually twitched at the slight pain felt. The action was similar to someone trying to wake themselves up from a dream; however, Akari was trying to anchor himself in place, and through Ain, he puppeteered himself to find some semblance of control. In a world where destiny was written for him, one he had written himself at some point, he desperately needed a sign of possession over this body he had created on a piece of paper.

Moments after, he disconnected one hand from the other and placed each on a knee, hoping it would stop him from fidgeting about. Thankfully, it seemed like Salaeus was occupied with the sight of people stopping their daily tasks just to catch a glimpse of the carriage riding through. He must’ve enjoyed the attention. Akari could tell, just from what he remembered writing of him, but Ain saw rather easily how quickly the mage was to lean towards such exposure.

“They’ll learn to love you, too.”

For words that usually were meant to be endearing, since they came out of Salaeus' mouth, the poison couldn’t help but drip and drool after each syllable. It stung to think that the real Ain would’ve accepted such a statement, assuming that that was his only purpose. That it never meant that he would belong, only that he would ‘fit in and fool’.

What if I don’t want to be loved? He would’ve asked if he had the gall to rip away from his disguise and toss away the armour. If he showed enough defiance, surely Salaeus wouldn’t allow him anywhere near the prince. Just a few more hours and he’d be out of the mage’s hands; he wouldn’t be free, but it would be a liberty worth his time. The faster he was switched to the prince’s ownership, the more authority he would have to expand his investigation across this place, and perhaps find a way home before dying or worse. That was the plan, for now.

The further into the capital they travelled and the louder the voices became.

No one exactly knew of Ain’s arrival; they wouldn’t know he existed until presented to the prince, but the people were excited to have started decorating and planning events for the following week, which would hold games and festivities catering to the Crown Prince’s Birthday. The people of the capital were those with well-versed synergies, the kind that synchronised and harmonised on the spot, especially when it came to occasions such as this. The world outside of the main story was meant to be lively, somewhat. At least, that’s what Akari and Haruka wanted to convey when they started this project.

The people, themselves, weren’t simply ‘background characters’ with little to no importance or a flicker of dialogue here and there; they had their own lives, ones that were either directly affected by the main plot or not, but regardless, they were kept alive. This world, as of now, seemed to prove Akari’s point. As he looked out the carriage windows, he watched as the populace gathered by stores, stalls and houses, talking with one another, discussing their plans for the day. Their faces were lit up with this determined sort of jubilance, one that rivalled dread.

They were hopeful.

The dread settled in slowly, sneakily, as it sank into the pit of Akari’s stomach, causing him to lean back into his seat, looking away from the window as he closed his eyes and tipped his head off to the side.

He wasn’t nervous, just sad, or a close equivalent.

This world was wonderful, though Akari was a little biased since he had a hand in creating it. Still, its beauty was and would be short-lived, at least for Ain. In the story, the knight never had the time or allowance to venture through Ethyrlys. Pinned down by his duties and bound to the prince, his time and effort could never be wasted on sightseeing. No matter how many merits he earned, his reward was a small praise through word-of-mouth, not a vacation. Not ever.

There were many places Akari could recall drawing. Not just the kingdom itself, but landscapes just outside the nation, from woodlands to hills and grasslands to cliffs. It was mostly promotional concept art for when the book was to be published, but he had never truly forgotten those pieces. As a concept designer and an artist at heart, he always had time to sketch out some forgotten land throughout the story, whether it was for a portrait in the palace halls or to reimagine a place in a book.

His hands may no longer have been humb for quite a while, but they began to ache, missing the habit of picking up a pen or pencil and sketching what he was thinking of on the spot.

After all, what kind of knight was also an artist?