• Mature • Recognising the beauty of skin

[Faith Augustin]

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She could not help the smile that lit her face when he told of his own experiences of being instructred "Master, I believe that the difference is perhaps in the enthusiasm of the student for their subject?" After all, since making him happy was her job, when he said something that she did made him so, it was teaching her valuable lessons "Or perhaps you are just a better teacher" she wondered. Either way, it did not matter, as far as she could see. But she immediately moved to pour him more coffee, cursing herself inwardly for not keeping an eye on it but instead having focused on the sculpting. As she handed it to him, she glanced at him and asked, with a confused expression on her face "What is a lickspittle?" she tried to picture licking and spitting at the same time, could not and so she wondered.

And in terms of lessons on politics and etiquette, Faith smiled "I would love to attend such. I am trying to teach myself all I can, but there is not as much information as I would like. I think that I might make an instruction manual for slaves serving noble houses. The more informed and clear the slave is on their expectations, the more useful to the family they will be, after all" it was an important consideration, after all. But when he exclaimed in pleasure at her thoughts on Rafael Warrick, Faith looked at Master with undisguised delight. He was pleased? She nodded her head "I will endeavour to do so, Master, yes" she said, and she stored away the information, delighted that she had pleased him so well.

Shaking her head with a chuckle though, she was very clear "No, Master, as yet none of them have answered me. Although I think that your cat is starting to come to terms with me talking to him, too. He recognises the tone of my voice that says he is about to get food, I think" evil spawn of a dead necromantically-raised demon spawn "I think he is starting to like me" and that feeling wasn't even one bit mutual, thanks very much.

She then listened to what he told her about the next statue, made sure that she kept him topped up with coffee, and got on with the statues. As the time progressed, she grew more confident and, by the time that she was finishing up the last one to hand over to him, she had even started to put some details on for him. She had nothing resembling his skill, of course, but she was more than able to do the donkey work and she had an enthusiasm to do well coupled with an attetion to detail that meant she was an eager and able student. "Your work is beautiful" she said, honestly, looking at the sculptures that he had conceived of and then created. "The level of detail is... astonishing. Even more so now that I realise just how hard that is to achieve. Thank you for letting me help you, Master." she added the last with very genuine gratitude. It had been a real learning experience for her and Faith loved learning.

"What do you wish me to do with them now?" she wondered. If there were undercoats and sealants and so on to be put on, she would happily get on with those whilst Master was able to work on the last one, thereby allowing the undercoats to dry whilst he worked and hopefully making it all that much more efficient for him.

[Tristan Venora]

"You don’t know what a lickspittle is?" Tristan asked and looked at her incredulously. "Of course you don’t", he answered the question a bit later. "You didn’t grow up surrounded by nobility. A lickspittle is somebody who …" He paused and took a sip from his cup of coffee while he thought about how to best explain the term to her. Faith seemed to consider him a good teacher, but he wasn’t so sure about it at the moment. "… somebody who wouldn’t give you the time of the day if you were just a normal person and they couldn’t gain anything from interacting with you. When I was still living in Sabaissant I was constantly surrounded by women – and occasionally men – who were fawning over me and telling me how great I am and that they’d do anything for me."

"In theory that doesn’t sound too bad, but unfortunately most of the time those people were old or ugly or had ugly personalities. Sometimes all three of those things applied. Once this supposed noble lady who looked like a beached whale in a pink dress chased me through the whole palace and I had to jump out of a window to escape her." He shuddered as he remembered his encounter with Lady Anya who had set her mind on marrying him because he was Duchess Ebony’s grandson and she would be able to become part of the seven great families through him. He pitied whatever poor guy was stuck with her now. It was a fate worse than death. He also hoped that Faith would pity him a little for having had to suffer that terrible woman’s company. Could he order her to pity him?

"Pity me", he said because he just had to give it a try.

"You would?" he asked, again somewhat incredulously which was becoming an unfortunate habit of his. "We have an agreement then. You’ll attend lessons on politics and etiquette and I’ll attend – nothing! I’ll just occasionally write somewhat political plays where Peake Andaris is hopelessly in love with King Cassander who isn’t called Cassander of course." He smirked a little, but the expression on his face became strangely serious a moment later when she spoke about her idea of a manual for slaves.

"Faith, I need to tell you something", he said and gestured for her to look at him. "What we have here is not the norm. Most nobles are much stricter to their slaves, and they hardly ever sleep with them because they think it’s inappropriate. Grandmother Ebony would probably have you whipped for as little as addressing her with the wrong title, even if you corrected your mistake immediately afterwards. She would have you put in chains if you misbehaved. If you write a manual for slaves, you’ll need to mention such things."

The mention of his cat improved his mood slightly again. "I’m glad that you are starting to get along. I’m quite fond of Mistral. Does he already allow you to stroke him?" He enjoyed stroking the cat and playing with it quite a bit, and he didn’t mind the occasional scratches and bites either. Unlike most cats Mistral had personality!

"Of course it’s beautiful", he said proudly as she complimented him on his work as he considered it unnecessary to be humble. "Yours is starting to look better and better as well though. As for what I wish you to do with them now, nothing. I need to finish this sculpture here first. You can clean this place up a bit in the meantime, and if there’s still some coffee left, you can have that. I’ve had enough."

Having said that, he turned back to the sculpture he was currently working on – Krome, the patron saint of death which was quite fitting since death was ugly, and Kromes were ugly as well in his opinion. He had only met one Krome that was halfway attractive so far – Victoria Krome – which made him wonder if she was really a bastard.

He had fun with Krome. First of all he took tiny piece of clay and attached them to Krome’s face so that it looked as if it were full of warts. Then he cut right through her – for Krome was an impossibly ugly woman – right cheek to make it look as if she had a scar. He also cut through her mouth so that she had a cleft lip. Krome was wearing a long, billowing hooded cloak that looked as if it was a little frayed at the edges and had a raven sitting on her shoulder and a scythe in her right hand. In short, she looked like the personification of death.

Once he was finished, he turned back to Faith. "You can put the sculptures in the oven now. They need to be baked so that they become hard and last longer, and once they are finished, we’ll paint them. I’ll get the paints and the brushes. We’ll also add a bit of gloss so that they look nice and shiny."

[Faith Augustin]

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She considered his words, explaining what a lickspittle was, and she nodded. "Someone who seems to serve you, but for their own gain, not for yours. Obsequious and fawning, I understand. Thank you" She said, and then she listened to the rest of what he had to say. It sounded vile to her, in truth and she wondered at how it must be for him, for all of his family, growing up. "It must have been very isolating, to not know who cared for you for your own sake, rather than their own" she said and then, out of nowhere, he told her to pity him.

Faith looked at Tristan and tilted her head to the side slightly. "When I was being trained in Athart" she said, quietly "My owners, they taught me that I was not a person. Jamal taught me the same. Any feelings I thought I had were lies, delusions of being more than I am. There was a question that was asked, many times a trial. 'Who are you?'. There was only one response that was acceptable" she smiled gently as she spoke, she might have been speaking of friends coming for tea, in her tone and demeanour. "To immediately fall to position, with hands held out ready for chaining and to speak the answer.... 'This slave is no one, Master. This slave is worthless without your direction, yours, completely, to do with as you will. How may this slave please you, Master?' ....that was the only response. If I was too slow, or.. well, often times simply because they could, they would beat me after asking that. To remind me that I was not a person. So, to them, I could not be ordered to feel an emotion, because I am not worthy of having them" the same was true, of course, of Jamal. But he knew that. It was strange, Faith spoke more now that she was with Tristan more than she ever had before, but she did not notice that "And then I was bought by you, Master, and you told me that I am a person. I have thought about that a lot, it is a big change to me and sometimes I struggle to understand it. But it seems that, if my owners were right, I can not feel. If you are? Well, then I can not feel on demand, Master" she smiled at him fondly, though and added "But thankfully, I do not need to. Because that sounds awful and I do feel very sorry that it happened to you" she added, truthfully. "And I promise you, my feelings towards you are very positive indeed. I would be on your side by choice, even were I not yours"

But the idea that she could go to lessons was a delight to her and Faith looked at him when he said that she could go. "Are you... do you mean that, Master? I would very much like it, but everything that I have read suggests that maybe I would not be welcome anywhere that you are supposed to be being taught" she did not want to get him in any trouble for his kindness to her, after all. When he spoke so seriously, though, she watched him and she listened intently. "I understand, Master. In fact" she said, looking at him earnestly. "The more I read, the more I realise just how very kind and gentle you are to me. I have been doing a lot of reading, I don't want to ever let you down in front of your family. But the more I read, the more I appreciate you and all you do for me" she was entirely honest when she said that and she had an expression which said so. She knew just how good he was to her and she appreciated it, very much so.

She was grateful, it must be said, for the coffee and she told him so. Then she got on with cleaning up as he finished. It was a start, but she would have this place looking like it should look soon, she determined. It was important to her that she did, because she wanted to make his life as comfortable as it could be. When he told her that they were ready, she hoisted up the statues and put them in the oven, glancing at the one of Krome and raising an eyebrow but keeping quiet. Once they were in, she would bring Master some lunch, if he wished it, and would potter around cleaning and so on, unless he had other orders for her.

[Tristan Venora]

"It was occasionally frustrating and isolating", Tristan agreed. "But at least the food was great. Granny Ebony always had the best and most expensive food, and it was all free. It could have been worse. I could have been surrounded by ugly lickspittles and forced to endure nearly inedible food." He shuddered as he said that, but the gesture was accompagnied by a light smile. Tristan just wasn’t the kind of man that easily sunk into depression even though he had grown up in a world where it was hard to tell friend from foe and where holding your teacup correctly was more important than being a good person. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be a good person anyway. Those noble, honorable people just got on his nerves!

He found it strange that Faith suddenly started to speak about Athart, but he listened to her nevertheless. Something about the tone of her voice compelled him to. She acted as if the things she spoke about were normal, pleasant even, but the young noble was slightly shocked nevertheless (and maybe a tiny, tiny bit fascinated, even though it was probably wrong). "I prefer to think that I am right and that you can feel", he finally said even though she had already answered the question herself, in a way. "You have already proven that you can feel countless times since I bought you. I’m happy about that, by the way. I wouldn’t want to own an unfeeling slave when I have so many feelings all the time and really like showing them. We wouldn’t we compatible, and interacting with you would be a daily struggle since we wouldn’t be able to understand each other."

"And I’m also glad that you have positive feelings towards me", he added, fully aware that most of his family, especially Granny Ebony, wouldn’t care as long as the slave in question did their job which was a really strange attitude to have in his opinion.

"I always mean what I say", he told her as she voiced her surprise at being able to go to lessons. "If slaves aren’t welcome at the university – which I’d find strange since a lot of professors own slaves – we can either disguise you as a free woman or I can hire a private tutor. I think I’ll do the latter since hiring a tutor for a couple of lessons per month is more practical then sending you to university all trial long. Half the things they teach you there are completely useless anyway. Did you know that?"

He had already forgotten a lot of the things he had been taught even though it had only been a few months since he had graduated. Of course there had also been a couple of classes that had been incredibly good, and he had also gained a few useful contacts which was why going to university had still been worth it in the end.

"And I don’t really care if you let me down in front of my family. Granny Ebony is never content anyway, and Aunt Willow is almost as bad. Even if you were perfect in every single way, she would still find a reason to criticize you. She criticizes me all the time, and look at me! Do I look as if I ever make any mistakes?" He tried to make it seem as if he had meant the question seriously, but he could barely keep himself from grinning.

It was time to get back to work though. While she put the sculptures in the oven, he mixed the paints, and then he put two glasses with water onto the table – one for him and one for her, warning her that it was not drinking water as he did so. It was for the brushes (although he had drunk it once when he had been a little boy who hadn’t known it any better).

It took a while for the sculptures to bake – the room would probably be spotless by then. Once they were finally finished, he took them out of the oven and put them back onto the table. After he had given them a quick wipe with some rubbing alcohol, he gestured for Faith to join him again and proudly handed her a brush, as if it was the greatest thing ever.

"Fired ceramic pieces are extremely porous", he informed her in a way that made him sound almost like one of his professors at the University of Rynmere. He kind of wished that Alistair (or Professor Venora as he often called himself!) were able to see him at the moment. The man would be so shocked to see his supposedly rebellious cousin like this!

"So I’ll quickly put a primer on the sculptures to seal the surface and stop the paint from being absorbed too quickly." As he said that, he moved his brush across the sculptures he had arranged on the table. "We are going to use acrylic paints as they dry quickly and can be painted over, unlike watercolors. I want you to use the paints very sparingly though. Only put a very small amount onto your brush and only add water if your brush is so dry that absolutely nothing is happening."

"Do you have any questions?" he asked as he started working on his first sculpture, Krome, who had quickly turned out to be his favourite because she was so wonderfully ugly. "By the way, if you take a look at the sketches again, you can see which colour the finished sculptures should be. If you make a mistake, we’ll just paint over. Unless you are colourblind? I just realized I’ve never asked you!"

[Faith Augustin]

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She watched him as she spoke of her time in Athart and she noticed a glint in his eye; he was interested, intrigued even. She wondered about that and his fascination with the darker side of human nature. "Would you like me to tell you more about how I was treated in Athart, Master?" she asked without guile. After all, if it brought him pleasure to hear it, then it was more than her pleasure to tell him. "I could do so, if you wish it. Here or.." she smiled at him then, a smile just for him and it was there and gone in a moment "Anywhere it might please you to hear about it. After all, there might be some techniques that you would like to employ in your treatment of your slave" she added and then turned back to what she was doing as though it was nothing in any way suggestive at all.

But, as their conversation moved, Faith looked at him and her expression was no longer the teasing one that she had worn, the gaze that they had taught her at the House of Roses. This was much more fundamentally honest. She looked delighted. "Master, I would do my very best and I promise you I will learn and learn" she replied, her gaze earnest and her expression moreso. And indeed she would. If Master was going to the trouble of having her taught then Faith would be the best student in the Kingdom, she vowed. She would make him proud and make him pleased to have bought her. "I have never, in all my arcs, gazed upon such beauty" she replied, most seriously, when he asked if he looked like he made mistakes "And I can not imagine you making a single mistake ever, Master. It is a slanderous lie, I am sure, brought about by those who do not see what I see" she had a wicked twinkle in her eye and this one was all mischief. If they had been in a playground, she might have worn that expression when pulling his hair or skipping a rope. Sometimes, she was more child than adult, although those times were less and less often.

When he put the glass down and told her not to drink it, she nodded and murmured her usual "Yes, Master" and then she set about cleaning fervently. She thought to herself that he probably thought the place was spotless, judging by the difference, but she wouldn't be happy until she'd gotten in there and scrubbed some skirting boards and floors and so on. But still, it was night and day compared to the state it was in when they got here, so she was happy. And then it was on to painting. He instructed her as to what she was going to do and she listened carefully and nodded. "I believe I understand, Master and no, no questions. No, I am not colourblind, Master" she smiled and lowered her head to start painting the Burhan statue. It was not a choice she made for any reason other than it was there but as she did, she wondered just how he thought she picked out clothes for him that went so well together if she was colourblind. Still, it was something that just happened these trials and no doubt he had not considered it. She painted and then she frowned slightly "There is still a tiny amount of paint on the brush, Master, should I continue? Would you look, it is leaving a smear" and when he had told her, she got about painting the blocks of colour for him so that, again, he could focus on the details. It made the most sense to her and she wanted to ensure that she was as much help to him as she could be. So that they would have seven statues, each done correctly.

[Tristan Venora]

"Techniques?" Tristan asked. His eyes shimmered brightly and he couldn’t help but wonder just what kind of techniques she was talking about and whether he would enjoy using them on her. "I would love to learn a few more of those techniques, but maybe we should talk about your treatment in Athart after we have finished the sculptures, otherwise we’ll get distracted and won’t be able to finish them today. I’d really like to be done sooner rather than later so that Lady Jane doesn’t get mad at me."

Even though the tone of Faith’s voice had not been suggestive at all, Tristan was thinking about the pleasure slaves she had mentioned during an earlier conversation again. They had been the one thing that had stood out the most about her first stories about Athart. He also wondered whether he should pity her instead of the other way round because of all the cruel things the slavers had done to her. But then they had been normal for her, she didn’t look sad, and he really didn’t feel like pitying anybody that trial.

"Immortals", he murmured as he realized just what he had said, a little belatedly. "I’m beginning to sound like a responsible adult. Work first, have fun later, that’s what adults do, isn’t it?" He sighed and shook his head because he still couldn’t believe it.

"Faith, I like you!" he exclaimed as she informed him that she couldn’t imagine him making a single mistake ever and ended the sentence with 'Master'. "You are the best slave I’ve ever had!" Of course she was also his first and only slave, but in his opinion that didn’t really matter. Even if he had a hundred slaves, she would still be the best. "And I’m really glad that you are not colorblind although a colorblind slave that can color-coordinate would be kind of awesome, come to think of it." He broke off, wondered if what he had said had really made sense and shrugged his shoulders.

There was nothing wrong with not making sense sometimes.

"No, don’t continue", he decided after he had taken a look at her brush and the sculpture she was currently working on. "You need a bit of water and more paint now. You’ve done a great job so far, by the way." With that he turned back to Krome and finished painting her. She was entirely black, apart from her face (pale white), her eyes (red) and the eyes of the raven on her shoulder (an extremely bright yellow).

Once he was done, he put her away as she needed to dry before he could add the gloss and moved on to Andaris. He’d always been a bit obsessed with Andaris because they were so close to the king and because Peake Andaris and his siblings (and Peake’s beard!) gave him so many inspirations for his art. Without even trying Maybe he should thank them sometimes.

[Faith Augustin]

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She looked at him as his eyes gleamed and Faith smiled a quiet smile, nodded her head and just replied in her usual quiet tone "Yes, Master" But as she agreed that they should put off that discussion until after they had finished sculpting, she could not help but wonder. How far did he wish to go with this? She would do whatever he wanted, of course, but if he developed a liking for hurting her then.... She shook her head slightly. What was she doing, worrying over such. She was chasing carriages in her head again, there was no point to it. If he developed a liking for hurting her, then he would do so and she would live with it. Because that was what it was and how it was. Sometimes, she wondered just what was wrong with her these trials. But then, Master let out an exclamation and Faith looked at him as he realised, a little late, that he had sounded grown up. But she kept quiet, because there just didn't seem to be any point in agreeing and, in all honesty, she could not disagree. So silence was the best option.

But as they worked and talked he suddenly laughed and told her that he liked her. Faith's face lit with pleasure and she replied, most seriously "And you are the best Master I have ever had. Oh!" her hand flew to her mouth and she shook her head with a complete change to her expression, one of horror now on her face "I have no right to speak in such a way, I am sorry" what was she *doing*? She shouldn't be thinking those things, let alone saying them.

"Thank you Master" she replied when he said that she had done a great job and she set about painting the rest of the sculptures, trying to make sure that she was at least as much use to him as she had been on the sculpture before. Hopefully, as she progressed she got to be more so and by the time that she was on the last one, she was even trying a little bit of shading here and there in order to help him better. "If you would like it, Master, I will read up on techniques for sculpture and painting next time I go to the library so that I can assist you better?" she asked, as she put the last one in place and frowned "I would like to be better to help you more" But at least, she considered, the place was clean.

[Tristan Venora]

As Tristan noticed the horrified expression on Faith‘s face after she had praised him, he laughed out loud. "You have my permission to speak in such a way", he informed her because she looked so worried, and he didn’t want her to look worried, at least not at the moment. "I love to hear how great I am. If you ever think, 'Master, you suck!' though, don’t tell me about it. I don’t think my fragile ego would survive it."

He managed to almost look as if he really was a sensitive young man who couldn’t deal with criticism in a reasonable and healthy way, but there was an amused twinkle in his eyes that would clearly tell her that he had been joking. Tristan Venora had, everything considered, a pretty thick skin.

"I would like that", he remarked as she mentioned going to the library to read up on sculpting techniques. "I would like you to focus on clay sculpting until you are more experienced though. Stone sculptures are a little trickier as you can’t undo your mistakes. If you remove too much stone, we have a problem. I suppose you could glue it back on, but then it wouldn’t look good anymore."

"Unless I managed to convince my customer that the sculpture is supposed to look that way", he murmured and considered the likelihood of that being successful.

"You have talent", he observed. "Do you have any previous experience in painting? Did Jamal make you paint the dead bodies so that they look more lifelike? I know that they sometimes put makeup on dead bodies …" Painted corpses were a little bizarre, he decided as he searched the workshop that looked much nicer thanks to Faith for the gloss. But then, he had always been interested in bizarre things – as long as they didn’t smell.

"I think it would be better if you used a new brush", he told her as he handed her a container with gloss. "I want you to but the gloss on the eyes and the mouth, most of all, so that they look a little shiny and wet. I think that’s the last thing we’ll do. Sometimes I use real hair or fabrics on my sculptures as well, but not in this case."

"The play will take place in a monastery, among other things. I’ve never been in a monastery, but I don’t think that they have clay sculptures dressed in fancy silk dresses and with wigs there."

Having said that, he got a brush of his own and started putting gloss on Krome to show Faith exactly how it was done. Against his expectations he had begun to enjoy teaching her.

[Faith Augustin]

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Her face was utterly incredulous when he suggested that the thought "Master you suck" might even enter her head. Faith bordered, in fact, on horrified "It is my firm belief that I will never think such, Master. I can not imagine ever doing so" she truly could not imagine a situation where she thought that and she shook her head in a mixture of despair and dismay at the thought. "I would not deserve to be in service to such a kind and noble man where I to consider such. How very dare I? It would not be at all appropriate and you would be better serviced killing me or selling me on and getting a slave who knows her place and understands her fortune in serving you" she did not speak those words so much as mutter them under her breath in a fit of indignation at herself. He might have a thick skin, but his slave had a pretty clear expectation of herself it seemed. And "Master, you suck" was not it.

But yes, she assured him, she would focus on clay sculpting rather than stone for the foreseeable future, or basically until he told her differently. But when he asked her about painting, she shook her head "We use make up on corpses, Master" she explained. "It is not like this. In death, skin is much more elastic and more prone to, depending on how long the person has been dead, caving in. So the make up is much thicker" she looked down at the paint she was using with a somewhat critical expression on her face "No, this would not work. It would seep. Although maybe with the sealant you used before, who knows?" she lifted her shoulders in a shrug and continued her work as long as she needed to. If she did have talent at it she was unaware of such, but she certainly approached it with her usual calm and calculated methodical approach.

"I have been to the monastary here. It is where I met the man Paladin. He was most strange and he was very angry that I am a slave. I was there to pick up a body of a dead monk and Jamal had instructed that the horse was too tired to pull the cart, so I had to hitch myself up to it and pull. He had a horse and he wanted me to allow him to pull it." she shrugged again "I have found that people tend to react in extreme ways to slaves. Or most people. Not everyone" she smiled over to him. He had not, he had just taken it in his stride "He drew his sword and one point and I had to stand in front of him and tell him that if he was going to hurt Jamal, he would have to hurt me first" she sighed and shook her head slightly "He seemed well intentioned. But no, the monastary is a place with beautiful windows, Master, stained glass that lets the light in through the colour in a wonderous way. And it is quiet, very quiet. The monks are serene and the place is...." she looked at Tristan then and a flash of pure mischief crossed her expression. "Well, I rather suppose, Master, that you would consider the place almost interminably dull" she said, honestly.

Turning her attention to the job in hand, though, and at his instruction, she started to apply the gloss where he showed her, careful in her movements and frowning ever so slightly as she did. It was fiddly work and so she did her best, not wanting to get it wrong. That meant that she was slower than she would have liked to be, but speed would come, she was sure.

[Tristan Venora]

"I don’t want to kill you though", Tristan replied. "My hands would get all bloody. And I don’t want to get a new slave either. I’d have to train them all over again, and they might not be good at sculpting or any of the other things we did together. I like owning you." He also had a pretty clear expectation of himself. Killing Faith was definitely not something that he ever wanted to do. He’d rather kill somebody he didn’t know, if he had to kill at all. He doubted that he would feel very bad about that.

"I thought that dead skin would be less elastic because corpses are all stiff", he remarked and wondered if there was any point in trying to memorize that fact. Would Lady Jane ever hire him for the part of an undertaker in one of her plays? Probably not. He was more likely to be offered the role of the corpse due to his lack of experience in acting in comparison to playwriting. Maybe he could have an undertaker appear in one of his plays though …

Satisfied he turned back to Faith and informed her, "I don’t think acrylic paint is something you should put on dead bodies anyway so it doesn’t matter if it would seep or not. Unless you want to sneak into the morgue and give it a try? I’m pretty sure that there is an Immortal that would curse us for that though, but if a curse is something that you want …" He looked sternly at her for a moment to make it clear to her that, while her master was definitely a little eccentric, there were some things that even he wouldn’t tolerate, and breaking into the morgue and possibly vandalizing it was one of those things (although he had no problem pretending to be an evil man).

He wanted a blessing from Zanik and not a curse!

"That’s definitely a strange story", he remarked as she spoke of her meeting with Paladin. "Was he a paladin as well? Anyway, I would have let you pull the cart. I wouldn’t go against the orders of a slave’s master, and seeing a slave doesn’t make me feel bad either. I don’t think Rynmere would be able to function without slaves." He was quite aware that his attitude in that regard was a little unusual. Most people expected a man as eccentric at him to be against slavery. He had never understood why. Slavery was a very nice invention that made the lives of nobles everywhere more pleasant.

"You are right", he decided. "I would probably get bored to death in a monastery, although I might appreciate the stained glass windows. I wonder if they’d let me repair and improve them in case they get damaged?" He imagined an incredibly dull monastery to also have incredibly dull pictures on its windows that would definitely benefit from his touch.

"You are a little slow", he observed as he looked up from his own work before he went back to finishing Krome and turned to the next sculpture that also needed a little gloss. "But you got it right which is the most important thing. We are as good as done. Once you are finished with your sculptures, we’ll leave them here to dry some more, and tomorrow we‘ll deliver them to Lady Andaris. I’ll even give you a little cart, and I won’t allow anybody else to pull it."

Yes, he thought, slavery was definitely a nice invention. In the past he’d always had to drag his sculptures to his clients by himself. Now he could just walk next to Faith while she did all the hard work!