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chapter 36
Silvester stirred his disheveled hair and sat up, letting out a long, lazy yawn.
As he straightened himself, he noticed Velita sleeping soundly beside him.
“She must be cold…”
Velita had turned away from him, softly snoring. Silvester pulled the blanket over her, tucking it snugly.
“She must be very tired.”
He watched Velita, who showed no sign of waking anytime soon. Slowly, he leaned over her.
“……”
He brushed away her stray hair and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.
Only then did he quietly get out of bed.
“Shall I prepare breakfast…?”
As he headed toward the kitchen, he glanced at his bare upper body. Compared to before, he had gained some weight.
His earnings had been meager because of that Gale guy, but thanks to a generous payment from Viscount Roman, he now had some financial breathing room. His diet had improved as a result.
Silvester opened the cupboard, took out some ingredients, and placed logs on the stove.
The early morning air was quite cool compared to the recent summer heat. Silvester decided to make a warm stew for Velita.
“Even if she won’t eat much else, she should at least eat this.”
The stew quickly began to boil. Just as Silvester started setting the table, there was a knock at the door.
Knock knock.
“Is someone there?”
“Who could it be?”
He hastily threw on a shirt and went to the door.
“Who is it?”
“I’ve come to commission a painting.”
Silvester flung the door open and found a uniquely dressed nobleman and a servant standing in the yard.
“……?”
Rich nobles were known to follow trends, but he had never seen attire like this. Curious, Silvester stepped aside.
“…Please, come in.”
“Thank you.”
The nobleman stepped in first, leaning on a wooden cane. A man in a long robe followed behind.
Silvester closed the door and glanced at their backs.
White robes and coats, light beige trousers, and small gold ornaments—overall, they looked like uniforms from a specific organization.
“White clothes even though it’s not a wedding…”
Judging by their attire, they were definitely not from the nearby area. Silvester had no idea how they knew of him or found this place.
“Please, have a seat.”
He guided the strange guests to the living room table, carefully checking that Velita in the bedroom was out of sight.
“Your home is cozy and lovely,” the nobleman said politely as he surveyed the room.
“Yes… well, I was just cooking, so it might be a bit warm inside. Would you like some tea?”
They each took a seat and looked at each other. The nobleman glanced at his servant as if to gauge his reaction. When the servant whispered something, the nobleman smiled and replied:
“No, that’s fine. More importantly…”
Silvester didn’t sit. The way he asked the servant if he would like tea suggested they weren’t in a master-servant relationship. He still had no idea where they had come from.
“This might take some time to discuss. Shall we move somewhere more private?”
“……”
Silvester blinked slowly. He had originally planned to have breakfast with Velita. His gaze shifted toward the bedroom and then returned.
“Still, Velita seems to be dreaming peacefully…”
“…Very well.”
The nobleman’s expression immediately brightened at Silvester’s consent. He stood and extended his hand.
“Excellent. Let me properly introduce myself first.”
Silvester shook his hand out of courtesy. The nobleman’s grip was gentle.
“I am Kilves Vicente Elgado, a follower of Osmo. I come from the Holy Empire of Carta.”
Silvester’s eyes widened.
The Holy Empire? How did someone from there hear of him and come all the way here?
“And if he’s a follower of Osmo, then…”
His gaze landed on the person who appeared to be a servant standing next to the nobleman.
“Not a servant… a priest.”
“…I am Silvester Rigel,” he said, giving a brief handshake before withdrawing. A priest, huh. What could bring someone from the Empire all the way to Orhen?
“Ah.”
He recalled that the city had been somewhat excited lately. A delegation from the kingdom was expected to visit.
“So that must be him.”
After brief introductions, the nobleman stepped back from the table, signaling that the rest of the discussion would take place elsewhere.
“Shall we proceed to the carriage?”
“…Before that, could you wait a moment?”
Silvester asked Kilves for a moment. He had some tasks to complete before leaving.
He went to the kitchen, took out the stew, and turned off the stove. He wrote a short note about stepping out, then changed clothes. Once ready, he joined Kilves and his companion.
“All set. Let’s depart.”
Kilves guided Silvester to a waiting white carriage. The driver expertly handled the horses, and the carriage smoothly made its way to the square.
Before long, they arrived at a restaurant. Kilves stepped out first.
“You mentioned you were preparing a meal, correct?”
Silvester and the priest followed. Silvester looked up at the building. Indeed, it was a lavish establishment befitting a noble from Carta.
“Since it’s around lunchtime, we thought we’d come by. Is that alright?”
“Yes. I have no preferences.”
Kilves smiled, satisfied, and they entered.
Kilves seemed adept at leading conversations. While seated and waiting for the meal, he asked Silvester about Orhen’s seasons and culture.
Soon, the dishes arrived. Silvester had little to say, but Kilves intermittently introduced himself as the client.
“He claims to be a noble…”
Kilves was distinctly different from the usual formal nobles. He said he was a count but was closer to the life of a sculptor than a typical aristocrat. He had voluntarily become a follower of Osmo and now engaged in sponsorship and artistic activities.
He said he had visited as part of a delegation, hearing about Silvester at a banquet, praised to no end by another noble.
“Probably a viscount…”
Silvester didn’t mind listening to Kilves’ story.
The main topic began only after the meal.
Kilves wiped his mouth, asked a waiter for tea, and then directly mentioned the commission.
“There is someone I wish you, Lord Rigel, to paint.”
“……”
Silvester remained silent.
He usually only painted beautiful things. Even when clients requested portraits, he had never accepted such orders. Velita had been the first and last subject of a portrait for him.
Yet, after contemplating the portrait, he finally asked:
“…What kind of person is it?”
A smile spread across Kilves’ face.
“They are exemplary members of the temple. I cannot disclose their precise status, but they are very upright and virtuous.”
Silvester hesitated.
He had painted many works—from imagined scenes to still lifes, oil paintings, and charcoal works—but never portraits. Even the most beautiful person could fail to capture his interest. He avoided portraits for reasons he didn’t even understand.
“……”
However, now, with Velita with him, it was wise to take any opportunity to earn money, regardless of the order.
He swallowed nervously.
“……”
Noticing his hesitation, Kilves also sensed Silvester’s inner conflict.
Rastavan had said Silvester need not be forced to take unwanted work, but Kilves thought differently.
“If he truly is a master… what could be more worthwhile than creating the god of this world through his art?”
Kilves hoped Silvester would feel the same awe he did. To craft the one god personally and be consumed by the thrill and reverence.
He subtly said:
“I understand this may be disconcerting. The payment can be whatever you deem appropriate.”
At this, Silvester looked at Kilves. The count seemed to have researched him already.
“He has already seen my work.”
Of course, he had never personally shown his paintings, but nobles could easily investigate one’s art through Roman or art supply stores.
“…Portraits take time. Did the client come along?”
Silvester glanced between Kilves and the priest. The client wasn’t likely the priest.
“Yes, but working in Orhen is difficult. We intend to bring Lord Rigel to Carta.”
“Me?”
“Yes. Of course, the temple will provide the round-trip carriage. We’ll ensure your safe travel.”
The Holy Empire? Safety wasn’t a concern. Silvester’s worry lay elsewhere: a portrait could take weeks if it required traveling to the Empire.
“Ah.”
Kilves, astutely reading his concern, quickly added:
“If the work succeeds, in addition to payment, I am willing to grant one request of yours.”
“One request?”
This caught Silvester’s interest. He folded his arms, curious. Kilves elaborated:
“Of course, nothing illegal under our export laws, but I am very eager for this commission… I will grant you one thing of your choosing.”
Rare pigments, jewelry, gems, or even a carriage—anything. Kilves whispered.
If it were Rastavan, he might have offered land or titles, but Silvester, being a commoner, would find such things excessive. Overly lavish offers could also arouse suspicion. Kilves offered a tempting, reasonable reward.
“……”
Silvester finally uncrossed his arms.
“Very well.”
A small smile tugged at his lips.
“Let’s take this commission.”
Kilves’ carriage dropped Silvester off at home. He quickly returned inside.
Squeak.
Upon opening the door, he immediately ran into Velita coming out of the kitchen.
“Where have you been?”
Velita’s eyes were wide as she held a glass bottle filled with a bunch of wildflowers.
“A client came by. Did you pick those outside?”
Silvester gestured toward the bottle. Velita glanced at the flowers and nodded.
“Yes. I went for a walk and picked them. There was an unused glass bottle lying around, so I put the flowers in it. Looks pretty.”
Water sloshed gently in the bottle as she carried it to the living room and placed it on the table.
“You must have gone somewhere far to talk.”
“I moved so I wouldn’t wake you. Didn’t you see the note?”
“I saw it, but it just said you went out.”
For some reason, Velita’s tone sounded slightly curt. Silvester grinned and relaxed.
