The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 869: First Blood [7]

“What promise?”

“How can one so wise be yet so dumb,” exhaled along the colder corridor. There was much in way of movement, visitors and workers – a very strange unity amidst the many classes.

Minerva’s world changed, Athene’s and Orin differed completely(Orin being the realm in which Igna was born). Her breath was stolen after every meter square – the massiveness opened till the upper-floors; natural light flooded from the skylights – placing a gauge on the scale wouldn’t do the architectural marvel justice. By more ways than one, Hidros’s landmarks and skyscrapers were finest to be counted among the world – the point is given to steady growth of prosperity. Couples dressed in civilian clothes as well as uniforms were common, families and loved ones exchanged laughs. Higher one moved, costlier grew items, high valued brands – models plastered across the shop windows, Minerva observed, the eyes carefully dissected colors and shapes into an array, a mental thumbnail sketch.

Igna and Vanesa’s outlines nonchalantly mixed into the crowd, bystanders crossed stares and paid no heed, “-Igna,” she hurried on the slumped pace, “-aren’t you famous?”

“Depends,” he returned, “-what you mean is why my presence isn’t being recognized?”

“Yeah, I would assume the elated king to be noticeable?”

“One would think so,” he smiled, “-I’m not so much a celebrity as one would think. A simple spell and my presence is erased – if by chance said spell is broken, I doubt people would pay heed to us.” The latest_epi_sodes are on_the Noᴠelꜰire

.....

“You say that,” she narrowed across the floor, “-there are few who stare deeply...”

“Ignore them,” he muffled and skipped onto an elevator. The linear pathways turned on one another – once clothing shops gave way to the inner theater – the deeper one walked, the harder grew the atmosphere. Guards pressed visitors, and by all means, the area wasn’t restricted – the décor and way of presentation split the crowd, hesitation, and fear of embarrassment.

Minerva studied, ‘-why aren’t they following?’ she narrowed at the visitors, many turned on themselves, others brazenly climbed, “-Igna?”

“Don’t bother,” he exhaled, “-the higher one climbs, the harsher it becomes. The dirty truth of social classes is truly able and well,” the lift stopped midway, metal plates parted into a completely different area. The structure swapped from open to sections; the color scheme dwindled to clean and minimalistic. “Mosia’s Gallery,” signaled towards the middle. Cafes and bookshops were common places; canvases left onto the walkways for people’s viewing pleasure.

“Where are we now?”

“Who knows?” he shrugged and continued; the regard fixed on the many galleries.

“So many artists,” she commented, the sections were split to accommodate works of art on various mediums, Mosia’s Gallery, located deeper, had conquered the circle in the middle of which laid seats.

“All the same?”

“Yes,” he returned, “-and no.”

“Pardon?”

“Look, each section is split to accommodate different artists. Getting scouted by them is akin to a miracle, if you’re chosen, consider thy life set.”

“Amazing?” she stopped at a window and pressed her forehead towards a simple piece, “-what’s this?” she blinked, “-an apple... the strokes are sloppy... and the colors, it doesn’t match...”

“Something the matter?” he halted behind her shoulder, Vanesa leaped forward and claimed one of the seats, she reached into her backpack and pulled a laptop, “-Minerva...” he tapped, her trance broke.

“-Sorry, I was confused.”

“By what?”

“Look, the apple,” she pointed, “-it’s simplistic... looks more of a training exercise than finished piece... do people really buy these?”

“Mosia’s Gallery is a renowned art dealer, the reputation is best known in the upper echelon. Between you and me, the place is but a means for money to be laundered. See the paintings, many of them are worthless – some, and I say one out of every forty, is actually worth criticism. The untrained eye,” he tapped her shoulder to a visiting crowd of students, “-look at them for example – those artistically inclined have zoned on a significant piece. The untrained are left baffled at the prices.”

“Painting... a way of expression, it’s sullied, ruined...”

“Don’t bother,” he tapped her shoulder, “-I wanted you to experience how it feels to be on the receiving end. Take a look at the workers, most don’t care for the pieces – there, one keeps on checking the clock for their break.”

“If we came here to hate...”

“No, no, nothing of the sorts,” hands in pocket, he walked towards the bigger shop – assistants at the door were quick to greet, “-hello,” they said bearing white smiles.

“Hello ladies,” he returned, “-is Thomas in?”

“Thomas sir?” they inquired; “-we can ask...” blank stares went around the room.

“Would be nice,” he replied and turned, Minerva, disappeared, a brief scan showed her in the company of the students, she spoke and adamantly criticized frames, a look to Vanesa showed massive headphones blocking the surrounding.

Inside Mosia’s main showroom, attendants shuffled from ear to ear, asking about the unknown Thomas, words took minutes – a closed room deeper inside held a private meeting. A lavishly dressed lady sat cross-legged before an appraiser, “-number 605 is sold for 643,000 Exa.”

“Yes,” answered an attendant who stood at her side, “-we’ll take number 605 to 610 for a total of seven million.”

“Payment method?”

The door clicked, “-lord Edson,”

“-Excuse me a moment,” he rose from the large desk and politely left, “-what is it?” whispered a muffled grit, “-I’m in the middle of negotiations...”

“Sorry sir, someone’s at the front, he called you by the first name,” she said, meanwhile, Edson kept a close eye on the silent room.

“Did you catch his name?”

“I’m pretty sure the man’s part of the underworld...”

“Right, a mobster,” he turned and held an unimpressed expression, “-now isn’t particularly the time to-” they shuffled to stare into the main area, “-shit,” escaped, “-treat him with the utmost respect!”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask questions, tell him I’ll be out shortly,” fever rid the calm disposition.

The silent room opened once again, “-pardon the distraction,” he replied and tapped the sweat from the forehead, “-shall we return to negotiations?” the waiting duo agreed without much hassle.

Minerva and her energetic passion amassed a crowd of students; they listen attentively, ‘-what is she doing?’ he blinked at the voiceless body movements.

“Here, children, lays another piece,” the tableau in question held 607 on a bronze plate, “-pay attention at the strokes, it’s not complete, the colors haven’t complimented one another. Look at the highlights, the painter failed at focusing on the darker spots, instead, opted to paint the highlights and focus around said area. The composition isn’t much to talk about either, the lines head outside the frame – all and all, it’s a three out of ten.”

“Look at the price,” nodded a student, “-reads 750,000 Exa.”

“Hey, if I were to pay, I’d spent no less than 400 Exa, and tis to account for the wasted colors and raw material.”

On casually watching the grown crowd, an attendant arrived and whispered, “-please follow me.”

“Lead the way, my lady.”

“Pardon my asking, sire, are you a customer?”

“Depends,” he said, “-my associates have handled the various transaction on behalf of my company. Raven’s, should ring some bells?”

“I remember Raven, the company who always has the most lavish items on auctions. None of thy items have dropped below seven figures. Many of us are excited when the seller, Raven is listed on auction – the last piece was a painting from L’atelier d’ Exsque, a landscape of the Rosespian castle.”

“Dubbed number 53,” he chuckled, “-I remember it all too well,” they moved deeper inside, ‘-especially since I was the one who painted it before the trip to Elendor.’

A lady in lavish attire stepped from the office, she passed a subjective scan on Igna – pushed her lips into a tiny smile, then carried on. The attendant exchanged knowing nods with Igna and followed, “-nobles,” whispered the assistant.

“No,” he replied, “-that was Lady Beatrice Hemsporth, of the Hemsporth Dynasty – wife to Lord Asnie Hemsporth, trading family, owners of Raindo.”

“Raindo?”

“Correct.”

“Raindo as in the clothing brand?”

“Yes,” he reached for the handle, “-should have spotted them on the advertisements below,” the lock clicked, the assistant remained speechless, her feet hurried into the main area, where the famed lady walked across and glared at the crowd of students. Minerva paid no heed and casually motioned at the duo, the attendant breathed bullets, lady Beatrice kept her shoulders focused on the comments.

“Thomas.”

“Lord Igna,” exclaimed the appraiser, “-long time no see.”

“Not since the auction,” he sat, “-I see Mosia’s getting high profile visitors.”

“Stiol has been very generous, my job as investor and art dealer’s become truly my true calling. Lady Beatrice just purchased five items for close to seven million. Tell me, what can this humble worker do?”

“I’m here as a buyer,” the legs crossed menacingly.

“Please, shall we move to the private collection?”

“No, my friend, you misunderstand. I’ve come to purchase the business.”

“Purchase the business?” he coughed, “-I don’t understand, sire, what do you mean?”

“Stop playing the fool, Thomas.”

“My lord, I thought we were on good terms. Selling won’t serve either of us... countless artists depend on us to sell their work... it’s but only started to gain traction.”

“Thomas, I should be upfront. The only reason I want to purchase the gallery is so that one of my friends can exhibit her paintings unrestricted by the set regulations. Her judgment is sound and her works are one of the best I’ve ever witnessed.”

“Why Mosia, Stiol own majority of the company. If a deal is to be made, tis through them, and I doubt they’ll move for any amount of money. Stiol has an abundance of funds, eccentric investors, and wealthy folks who spend millions on whims.”

“Thomas, dear Thomas, I asked for the moon, and tis the response?”

“Pardon me, my lord. One of Mosia’s lesser popular showrooms has been in the plans of shutting the door. I’m sure the Eeln management will be happy to rent the area.”

“Foolish Thomas, if it was a matter of showroom, I could have easily rented any of the vacant areas. I want Mosia for the sole reason of reputation. Tis a great way for Raven to clean large fraction of the unchecked balance.”

“Lord Igna, I have to refuse. Selling Mosia’s out of the question, no amount of money will sway our hands. I can, however, offer space for the lady’s paintings to be showcased.”

“Too bad,” he exhaled, “-there are things which aren’t meant to be. Do excuse me for any unnecessary discomfort. I know I come across as rude during negotiations.”

“There’s no need for apologies, majesty. I’m honored you took a liking to Mosia,” steps stormed the door, “-Lord Thomas, trouble,” they gasped, “-Lady Beatrice’s gotten very verbal with an art teacher.”

“Shit,” he vaulted over the table, “-Lord Igna, you coming?”

“Drama, count me in,” he followed outside.

.....

Students cowered behind a loud and draconic Minerva, “-I disagree, number 608 is the worse piece of shit I’ve ever seen. For three million, I’d rather burn the cash instead of spending another penny.”

“Three million, I doubt you’ve ever seen a thousand in person, damned teacher. Don’t stand there and lecture me about taste, 608 is a masterpiece painted by Eneg, a revolutionist of our generation, there’s no arguing his genius.”

“Genius, sure – if art’s grown so dull and mosaic, what’s the point of painting. There’s no emotion, nothing of substance, the eyes are drawn to nothing, emotions and thought have to be manifested from a single thread of emptiness. This, for example,” she leaped to a landscape of Hidros, “-the colors and strokes are masterfully laid, the feel is of winter, the motive cold and solitude.”

“They so-called emotion is but priced at 60,000 Exa whilst 608 is priced three million. No matter what is said, money is the true determinant of value – pitiful teacher.” Thomas watched in fear, Igna simply walked in the middle, turned at Beatrice, and smiled, “-my lady, ‘twould be wise for the shouting contest to end. Must I infer to Lord Asnie?”

“AND WHO THE HELL ARE-”

“Majesty,” the assistant dropped on one knee, “-I deeply apologize for my lady’s heated personality.”

“Always the guardian. The circus is over, take the paintings and scurry.”

“Will do,” he grabbed Beatrice’s wrist and rushed, leaving Igna and Minerva to blink.