The Master Painter and the Forbidden Room – Part 06
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Translator: Kell
Since my employer decided to go, I had no right to refuse.
Leaving the bard and the manservant at the house, I ran into the night-shrouded forest carrying Zero. Like the servant said, there was an animal path that led from the back of the house, just narrow enough for a cart to pass. There were brand-new horse and wheel tracks on it. With it as our guide, we didn’t have to worry about getting lost in the woods.
As Zero predicted earlier during the day, the light drizzle turned into heavy rain as soon as we entered the forest.
I let out a sigh. “And here I thought I’d be able to get a good night’s sleep under a roof. I never thought I’d be running through the forest in the rain, covered in mud.”
“Life sure is unpredictable,” Zero said, not particularly unhappy about it.
Does she really want to be painted that badly? Apparently she’d taken quite a liking to the painter. We could get lost if the rain washed the hoofprints away. Soon after, however, my ears caught a woman’s screams mixed with the sound of rain. I picked up the pace.
I spotted a clearing in the dark forest. I leapt forward, but then realized that I was jumping smack dab in the middle of the knights, so I immediately turned back. I dove right behind a tree and peered at the hut. Luckily, no knight seemed to have noticed me.
The darkness and the heavy rain saved us. The rumbling of thunder and the woman’s screeching could have played a part as well.
Is that the painter’s voice?
The knights were pulling a heavy box-shaped carriage to carry the paintings, probably to shelter them from the rain on the way. Fortunately for us—unfortunate for them—the wheels of the carriage were stuck in a muck and they were having a hard time leaving.
From inside of the same carriage, the painter continued to shout and curse incessantly. “God damn you, let me out! Lock me up if you dare! I’ll paint pictures of you bastards going to hell and slit my throat in front of you. You will become subjects of my cursed paintings, and you will have nightmares for the rest of your lives!”
Okay, that’s just annoying. They might actually get nightmares if it worked.
“I thought she was a feeble, sickly girl,” I said. “Looks like she’s got a lot of spunk.”
“The bard probably sees her that way,” Zero replied. “How do we save her? Kill them all?”
“Nah, let’s take the civil route. We mug ’em. Killing them will cause problems later. When I give you the signal, use your Magic to drop branches at three different locations.”
“At the same time?”
“You can do it, can’t you?”
“Huh. You know me well.” She sounded delighted.
There was a Magic spell called Steim that fires arrows of light without actually having an arrow. Normally, you can only shoot one arrow at a time, but as the creator of Magic, Zero can shoot multiple arrows at the same time.
“I see,” she said. “A bluff.”
“Exactly. We make them think that they’re surrounded by bandits. Let’s move!”
I jumped out into the middle of the knights, who were desperately trying to move the carriage in the darkness of the night. I knocked some of them down, then weaved past the confused ones and climbed up the roof of the carriage.
“This carriage is mine!” I roared. “You can have the other cargo. If you value your life, leave the carriage behind and scram!”
One of the knights held up a lantern that somehow survived the downpour. “It’s the Beastfallen from the bard’s place!”
“You got that right,” I answered. “I had my eyes on those paintings, you see. Figured they’d fetch for a good price. Letting you take them away would ruin the name of my gang of bandits.”
The knights stirred upon hearing the word ‘bandits’. A lone Beastfallen was trouble enough, but what if he had friends with him?
“Calm down! He’s bluffing! There was only one Beastfallen man in the poet’s house. No gang at—”
“You really think so?”
“Wha—?!”
“Do it!” I shouted.
Three arrows of light zipped through the air, cutting off branches in three completely different places. The knights’ stirring turned into fear and tension. “We’re surrounded!” someone shouted.
Cursing, the captain held his lantern up high and looked at me. “All right. You can have the carriage and the cargo. But the woman inside—”
“A woman?”
For bandits, women were the best loot. They could have them for themselves or, depending on their age and looks, they could be sold for a lot of coins.
“Do you really think I’d give her up?”
In the rainy night-shrouded forest, my fierce features illuminated by the lantern must have looked terrifying to the eyes of the knights. I raised my drawn sword and thrust it against the roof of the carriage as if to assert my right.
“Get lost!” I barked.
A thunderclap rang out, and a faint-hearted knight shrieked, scrambling into the woods. Then one by one the others followed, and eventually the captain left the scene, cursing as he fled.
Once they were completely gone, Zero, who had been hiding behind a tree, came out, giving me a big round of applause.
“Brilliant! That was a truly magnificent performance, Mercenary. You have become good at playing the villain. No one would have doubted that you were a battle-worn bandit.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”
“It is a compliment. I expected nothing less from the Black Beast of—”
“I told you to stop calling me that! I’m gonna give you a stupid nickname too, you fucking witch!”
As I jumped off the roof of the carriage, I sensed someone running towards us, and I put my hand on my sword. But when I realized that it was the bard, I quickly relaxed myself.
“Found you… Where are… the knights… Where’s… my sister…?” The bard was panting heavily.
I jerked my chin toward the carriage. “The painter’s inside.”
It would be more reassuring if the bard came to her aid rather than us, who just called ourselves bandits and caused a commotion.
Looking deeply relieved, the bard pulled the door to the carriage open. “Kiara! My artist! Are you hur—” He flew backwards.
“Wh-What?! Is there a knight inside?!”
When I saw the small woman jumping out of the carriage, everything clicked.
She had pale skin and brown hair tied up in a single bun. Her childlike features suggested she was quite younger than the bard. But there was no doubt that she was the captured painter.
She didn’t think that the man who opened the door was her brother, mistaking him for a bandit and attacking him.
“I don’t give a damn if you’re a knight or a bandit!” she bellowed. “I’m a free artist! No one’s gonna lock me up!”
She was about to run away, when she finally recognized the face of the man lying on his back. She stopped and slowly walked toward the bard.
“Master?! It can’t be… Did the bandits attack you? Someone, please help him!”
Her exaggerated screams put even the bard’s acting skills to shame.
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