The year was coming to an end.

There were only a few days left in December, and the shadow of the plague in Koszoya was gradually being dispelled during these days when the King was in the southeast. While the city was being cleaned up, the citizens were hurriedly preparing for the Christmas celebrations under the leadership of city officials.

It was in this atmosphere that Clark, led by a royal attendant, walked into the mansion where the King lived temporarily.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

Years of a wandering life have left him shockingly thin, and these days, day and night, painting without any sense of day or night had almost drained all the energy of this penniless painter. If it weren’t for his overly bright eyes, as if all his life force was burning, he would almost be no different from a living corpse.

He was originally a student of an outstanding master of the Ike painting school of thought, but he questioned the classic Ike painting theory and was expelled by his teacher. Later, because he was drunk, he accidentally said in a tavern that “painting, as an art of expressing emotions and thoughts, should not be limited to religious themes”, and was reported.

The “Capital of Art” where he was at that time was very close to the city where the Holy Court was located. If not for a friend who took the risk to alert him, he might not even have a chance to escape, and he would have been directly burned on the stake.

Clark had to hide his name and cross the Abyss Strait, coming to Legrand where the influence of the Holy Court was relatively small compared to other countries, and became a nameless wandering painter.

Today’s decision was his most risky yet.

The proprietor of the tavern thought he was crazy——a nobody artist like him wanted to invite the King to see his paintings!

Clark waited several days outside the King’s residence.

There were too many people who came here to file lawsuits, and a wandering painter had no sense of existence. But things took a turn for the better when the tavern keeper tried to force him back. General Sheehan, who came back from his inspection, saw his painting by chance, and the noble knight-general promised to mention it in front of the King.

That was how he happened to be here today.

Clark’s breathing came a little short, and his usually steady hand trembled uncontrollably while holding his paintbrush.

——He had a wish. He hoped that his new painting method and concept could be spread, which was almost impossible for one such as him who left the art capital.

But, today, he felt that this was his only chance to make his wish come true.

Was it possible?

Could Legrand’s King grant his wish?

He did not know.

The door of the King’s study was right in front of him, and the attendant pushed the door open after getting permission.

…………

The King looked at the painter standing before him.

It could be seen that he had likely tried his best to clean himself up before coming here, but the embarrassment of poor economic conditions made it impossible for him to make too many changes. His coat was old, and the exposed lace cuffs were stained with various paints that could not be washed off. His aura, however, reminded the King of his own group of gentlemen from the Lunatic Academy.

Maybe geniuses always had an air of neurosis about them?

Following Mr. Painter was the tavern keeper who temporarily acted as his assistant.

“Relax, gentlemen.” The King withdrew his scrutiny. “You may say what you want.”

He said this largely to the excited and nervous tavern keeper who looked about to faint, because Mr. Painter looked more worryingly exhausted and like he might die suddenly at any time.

——This actually had something to do with the King.

On the one hand, when inspirations surged over him, the painter often forgot himself. On the other hand, it was also because the painter did not know how long the King would stay in Koszoya. He knew that once the King left Koszoya, it would be difficult for him to see the King. Adding the two together, he almost risked his life to finish the painting as quickly as he could.

“I want to dedicate a painting to you.”

Clark made up his mind and said.

After obtaining permission, Mr. Tavern Keeper assisted the wandering painter to display the painting before the King.

In the room, besides the King, were the Master of Households, Mr. Charles, and several other city officials. But after the painting was erected, almost everyone’s eyes were attracted by that painting.

Contrary to all the paintings seen before, there was no trace of religion in this painting.

Time suddenly turned back, and the great plague in December suddenly jumped out again, spreading before people’s eyes.

The gloomy atmosphere in the painting collided with the splendid light. Dark clouds pressed down on the city of Koszoya. On the streets, large and small, there were countless moaning patients hidden in the shadows. People’s memories of that disaster were awakened again, and those sorrows and deaths floated in front of them.

But death and despair were not the subject of this painting.

The sick struggled to raise their heads from the shadows, the King’s attendants stood in the streets distributing rose coins to the people, and crows fluttered their wings on the tall building of the Free Chamber of Commerce headquarters. In the sky, in those thick dark clouds, bright light broke through the clouds and spread to the whole city.

The light fell on the faces of the patients who raised their heads, fell on the scattered crows, and fell on those knights in armor…..Light and shadow, death and life, all those strong emotions full of trembling power surged out from the painting.

This was a painting without God, but it taught people to be reverent.

The city officials stared at it tremblingly, wondering where their awe came from. How could a painting make people feel that there was some terrible power hidden in the brushstrokes?

They didn’t even understand what that power was.

The frozen silence caused cold sweat to roll down the tavern keeper’s forehead. The reason he would accompany Clark was partly because he had a good relationship with Clark, and partly because he thought the painting was really good. Although he couldn’t tell what was so good about it. So he followed along with a gambler’s mentality.

But the current silence could not help but make him have strong doubts.

“I noticed that this painting of yours is not created in the style of Ike, is it a new technique you have developed yourself?”

In the silence, the King broke the silence.

Clark was a little surprised at the sharpness of the King’s eyes.

He replied: “Yes, I don’t create with transparency effect.”

Ikeism painting used transparent pigments layered on the canvas. But this often required waiting for each layer of paint to dry before proceeding to the next layer of overpainting. This was the painting method that painters were accustomed to use today, and it could make the painting show a strong sense of reality.

When Clark was studying painting, he tried to point out that this painting method, in addition to the defect that the colors were sometimes difficult to blend and connect, also tended to rigidize the thinking of painting and was not easy to express the painter’s thoughts flexibly.

However, his suggestion was not recognized at that time, and instead angered his mentor.

Art was used to praise God, and it needed to be treated seriously. In Will City, which was close to the Holy Court, Clark’s thinking could be called rebellious. He was therefore expelled from Ikeism, and later persecuted for “heretical speech”.

During his long wandering life in Legrand, Clark often faced the problem of needing to finish a painting faster. During this process, he gradually explored a painting method different from the transparent painting method.

“The King and His City” adopted this new direct painting method.

“I call it the ‘direct painting method’.” The thin painter’s eyes were bright and his tone was slightly excited when he talked about his hard work, “Besides that it can be completed quickly, the more important thing is that it is conducive to express the artist’s feelings, and painting is not just to depict those icons! Mortals can also be painted by the brush.”

The tavern keeper almost fainted.

He really wanted to gag Clark’s mouth, why did this guy seem like a different person when he spoke of his beliefs!

Just when the tavern keeper was trembling with fear and sweating, someone applauded gently.

It was the King.

He looked at the painting and applauded it.

Immediately afterwards, applause broke out in the room, and everyone applauded for the painting.

“Mortals should also be painted by the brush. You are right, sir.”

The King made his assessment.

The tension in Clark’s heart finally completely relaxed.

Overwhelmed with joy, he couldn’t help but smile brightly.

Because of his beliefs, his fiancée left him and he had to leave home and wander in an unfamiliar country. This young genius from the art capital became a nobody who painted portraits for a living.

More than ten years of suffering, more than ten years of wishful thinking, more than ten years of being misunderstood…..Amidst this applause, the past that was ridiculed, despised, and ignored was finally rewarded. His beliefs that were dismissed as “unrealistic” finally got the applause they deserved.

He wanted to laugh, and he wanted to cry.

“A seat for our illustrious Mr. Painter.”

The King said to the Master of Households, smiling.

Just as the Master of Households was about to carry out the King’s order, he saw the painter, who had just made a speech, fall forward without warning, and fell to the floor with a “thump”.

Everyone in the room was taken aback by the turn of events.

The Master of Households hurried forward and turned over Mr. Painter. He stretched out his hand, then looked up at the King dumbfounded: “He fell asleep.”

——As soon as the tight strings were loosened, coupled with the high-intensity painting for many days, this gentleman should have been lying down long ago, but his will supported him to finish speaking his philosophies in front of the King.

“Alright.”

The King looked helplessly at Mr. Painter who fell on the floor, completely out cold.

He didn’t intend to blame Clark for his impolite behavior, so he ordered the Master of Households: “Take our painter down to have a good rest. I’m afraid he will make people think that despite the enormity of Legrand, we can’t even feed a court painter.”

The worries that the tavern keeper, who had developed a good relationship with Clark these days, was holding tightly, finally let go.

The attendants came in quickly and carried out the down-on-his-luck painter who was sleeping soundly in front of the King. The Master of Households understood the meaning of the King and followed.

The city officials withdrew with the tavern keeper, leaving only the King and his godfather in the room.

“William also liked to support some starving painters.”

Charles seemed to have remembered something, and said to the King with a smile.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

“I am hardly supporting some starving painter.” The King replied, “This is the light of literature and art I want.”

Under the shadow of theocracy, the voices uttered by mortals themselves, the light they strive to find. In the eyes of the King, this was even more useful than aid from Hell.

The shackles were as heavy as a mountain, but someone would always burst out with an unyielding cry from the cracks.

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