Chapter 13

The sun is blinding, absolutely scorching. The stone street I’m walking on does nothing against the heat, I wonder if you could cool the ground for that? Strategic placement of ice perhaps? Freeze the drainage channels? Hastily I dodge one such drain, they’re dotted around the road. With carriages taking up much of the space, those of us that walk have to squeeze onto the sides instead.

“Oi, Ralph!,” a voice cuts into my thoughts, disrupting my flow. Still, if someone uses your drain you’re supposed to respond. Though it takes me a while to find whoever called out to me. I discover that the source of the sound is a guard, so I put up a smile at him.

“Steve!” I say, injecting some happiness into my voice, “Anything you need me for?” I ask innocently. His eyes narrow and he stares at me for a while.

“Raphael.”

“Stephen?” He sighs at my response.

“No, my name is actually Steve, it’s not short for anything. And you know why I called out to you.” I honestly do not actually, but something tells me that he won’t like that response.

“Is… is it about…” I try, desperately trying to think of something.

“Where are you going?” he cuts in, rude.

“The church,” I answer confidently, he can’t find fault with this. Or so I thought but now he’s looking at me with a frown on his face.

“I’m not lying!” I clarify, and I'm speaking the truth, the church is my destination!

“Oh I believe you,” he says, which is good, but his tone of voice tips me off. This man is not happy with me for some reason. I wonder why? I’ve known him for a long time, but figuring out other people has never been my strong suit.

“Then I’ll be off,” I tell him, it’s better to leave before anything else happens.

“Hold it, what’s in the bag?” Steve says, I sigh and open it up for inspection. Not that there’s anything special in it, just some food for lunch and my art supplies. Brushes of varying sizes and shapes, for the most part. A bunch of large cups and small buckets

“Why are you taking your brushes to church?” he asks with his eyes narrowed again, “and… buckets?”

“I always have those with me, you never know when the mood strikes you,” I say sagely, “it pays to be prepared,” I add.

“Then where’s the paint?” Well…

“Did I forget to pack the paint? That’s a shame,” I say while pouting a little. The guard lets out a sigh, confronted with the realization he can’t accuse me of anything.

“Fine, go, I won’t keep you.”

“Thanks! Good luck with your work,” I say, then I continue onwards. Steve was on to me, but no paint means no evidence. The path grows wider the closer I get, the church is an important destination for the city, well, the cathedral really. It goes without saying that the capital has a suitably sized church building. The Order needs to show everyone how amazing they think they are, the pricks. I sigh, frustrations mounting. My pace lowers, motivation vanishing.

“And it was going to look good too…” I mutter, then I change directions. I am not walking fast, I have enough time anyway. WIth my downcast mood, I can’t say I want to run anyway, not that it’d be comfortable with the bag hanging from my shoulder.

The alleyways are filled with shadows, much the same way that my mind is. I know that I shouldn’t get so worked up about something that happened so long ago, but it was important to me. It wasn’t theirs to take. My frustrations just grow, an emotion that I need to vent somehow because otherwise I’ll get swallowed in it. And I had such grand plans for the church too, a large red rose. It wouldn’t have hurt anyone, but with red being such a taboo color inside the church… It would have made a statement. I might not be able to understand people easily, but even I know how to make them angry. It’s a valuable skill to learn, whether it’s because you want them to be angry, or to avoid it.

I look up at the sky, almost hoping I can get these annoyances to just fly away. The small balconies above me catch my attention, I notice some flower pots are decorating them. In front of me there’s a group of people walking, a bird swoops down. The entire scene feels slow like time is stretched out. The bird is diving towards one of the balconies, its beak pecking around some potted plant, in an attempt to find a worm I imagine. The improperly placed ceramic wobbles, and to the surprise of the bird, topples downwards. Tumbling gracefully, and going to hit one of those people right on the head. Time is like jelly around me, I can count the seconds as it falls. They don’t even notice. My arms are dangling at my sides, the right one tenses. Then my hand raises smoothly, and I cast.

“Break.”

Not much of a cast, all things considered, but this isn’t much of a spell to begin with. The ceramic explodes, sending a flat ring of shards outwards. None are aimed down because I’m not an amateur, only the dirt falls further, mostly unaffected by the shattering. It hits the girl walking in front, the coarse earth coats her head, but no real harm is done. I wince as she lets loose a scream, the shrill noise cuts through the air and hurts my ears.

“What was that!” she yells as she tries to remove the dirt from her body, unsuccessfully. Dry earth sticks to people in horrible ways. And this plant was not watered often if its dried leaves are any indication. Still, much better to get dirty than to have your head caved in. I don’t know quite how much damage that pot would have done but ceramic is hard, and it was high up. She wouldn’t have come out unscathed. I see one of the guys next to her laugh a little, his friend gives him a subtle kick to the legs. Not quick enough, she notices his antics and doesn’t find them as funny. She starts spewing harsh words at him, he’s looking chastised but his friend just looks annoyed.

Then, the other girl notices me staring, she whispers something to the guy next to her and points my way. I can’t hear what she told him, but he doesn’t look happy.

“Hey!” he yells at me, “You there.” At his words, I decide that discretion is the better part of valor, and turn to walk the other way.

“Oi! I’m talking to you! Explain yourself!” he shouts at me, but I know better than to stick around; not when I’m outnumbered like that. I pick up my pace, walking quickly but not quite running. Sadly, I badly underestimate his speed. Before I can leave the alleyway, he catches me. He grabs my arm and keeps me from leaving. I’m less than comfortable with any of this.

“What?” I say tersely.

“Why did you attack her!” the teenager spouts. His group of friends are walking our way and they heard his loud voice.

“You attacked Sophie!?” the other girl yells. Technically she’s asking a question, but in practice, they don’t let me defend myself.

“Why would you attack her! What’s she done to you!” another guy adds.

My already mounting frustrations get much worse at this one-sided verbal assault. I saved her, why are they angry at me?

“I didn’t,” I say, trying to stay calm, “I just wasn’t able to get the dirt in time.” The girl in question narrows her eyes at me, the earth is still coating her hair.

“Just look at the shards,” I point out.

“Shards?” one of the guys asks.

“Yes, you didn’t think there just happened to be dirt with a flower in it falling from the sky right? I only managed to break the pot in the air. There are shards of ceramic over there,” I explain.

“As if you just broke the pot in mid-air, what are you? Some professional mage?” the same dude that got kicked interjects.

“Shut up Jason, go check,” Sophie barks at him. We stare awkwardly at each other as Jason goes to retrieve the shards. He finds them after just a few seconds.

“How the hell…?” he mutters as he looks at the small pile to the side of the alley. I guess they didn’t even notice the pieces, they fell in the small drainage channels to the sides of the path. Sophia walks up to him and grabs a shard for herself, then she walks back with a peculiar look on her face. I feel a storm coming, but when she stands in front of me she just lowers her head a little.

“Sorry, I guess, and thanks,” she says, then turns to her posse.

“C’mon, we’re leaving.” I watch them leave, wondering what just happened. At least it ended well, It was worth trying to explain myself after all. A glance at my bag, and though I can’t see the brushes within, I think of them. Then I make up my mind and head towards the church.

“Let’s give them something to remember,” I say as an evil smile nestles on my face. I’m still not running, but my pace is much quicker than before, now with much less frustration weighing me down. As I move I think of the many options I have, there are a bunch of walls after all. I already accepted that I would have to settle with one of the smaller ones because there’s only so much you can do in broad daylight, but with this newfound motivation I’m considering checking out other walls as well. It won’t be daytime forever.

Even I have to admit that the cathedral is quite the sight, even as someone that lived in the capital for the majority of his life, it cuts quite the image.

High walls, and a lot of sharp edges on top. Supposedly it mimics a crown, though I’m not sure I agree. It’s imposing regardless, and there’s a throng of people crowding around it. I’m later than I originally wanted to, but still on time. As the crowd enters the building there’s a noticeable emptiness in the area surrounding it. Everyone is inside for the sermon, the perfect moment to decorate. Confidently I walk around the massive structure, before eventually settling for a little cove to the side of it. It’s a discrete spot, though it lacks escape routes. As long as I’m quick I won’t need to escape anyway. I put down the bag and take a last look around, deciding that the coast is clear I bring out the brushes. Then I place a large cup on the ground.

“Water,” I whisper, and the world twists. I’m told that the feeling differs per person, but creating water has always felt like I’m wringing out reality like a wet cloth. A steady stream of clear water appears out of thin air, filling my cup easily. I smile at the sight, there’s a childish sort of joy in magic, even now. I reveal a small bucket out of the bag, more of a very large cup if I’m being honest. Here comes the tricky part. Making water is easy, making earth is no harder, although it does use more mana. What’s much more difficult is creating compounds. Luckily I’m very experienced, I chant for a full thirty seconds but my efforts pay off splendidly. Red paint pours from nowhere into the container. With yet another bucket I repeat the process, this time making white paint. After just a few short minutes I have every color I could need, it does pay to be prepared.

The real work begins here, and I get to work eagerly. Red is the primary color, it’s what generates the most impact considering it is the color of demons. It isn’t what I start with though, that would be green instead. Quick strokes make a grassy layer to build the rest of the image on top. I’m swallowed by my work as I add layer after layer, creative use of air and fire magic speeding up the drying process.

Red flowers dot a growing landscape. My painting hands add anything I think of, including a recreation of the cathedral from memory. It’s a nice view, and I continue my efforts.

I wonder how much I’ll manage. The sermons last for quite some time so I should be golden in regards to time. When I was scoping out the place I made sure to check that, along with what walls are more easily seen, and which are nicely hidden; like this one. Some guards are patrolling, but it’s peaceful and they don’t really pay attention to the church itself. They see it every day and are firmly under the impression that attacks or unrest will come from outside, or at best from the plaza in front. Their colleagues will take care of anything happening inside, after all, all perfectly valid reasoning. Though they forgot about the walls themselves. Rookie mistake.

My efforts are paying off, even as I’m lost in thought. A landscape has developed further around the cathedral, with the red flowers now prominently displayed in the forefront. The church building is seen more in the distance, with rolling hills all around. Picking up a thinner brush for finer details I start adding the stuff they’ll despise. Small red forms pop up around the structure, an army marching towards their objective. Geomancy forms small steps so I can reach higher, I color in the sky and put real effort towards a flying monstrosity soaring towards the cathedral.

After I make sure to dry the layers properly, I paint a new church over the original one. This one is in tatters, the top is broken off and its bell is dropped to the ground. Demons are swarming the building and they’ve clearly conquered it. Lastly, just to rub it in, I add in a few words in a blood-red script.

“A sanctuary for the wicked,” I read out loud, proud of my handiwork.

“That’s where you’ll be going,” a different voice tells me. I jump and turn around. An armored figure looms over me, studying my art. I dash to the side but this guard is faster, he grabs me by the collar and pulls me back. In a panic, I start to chant.

“Furious winds that rage-” I begin, but he punches me in the stomach. The air is forced out of my body and I nearly vomit.

“Sorry ‘bout that, but I can’t have you trying to run away,” he explains, though it does nothing to ease my suffering. He drops me to the ground but I’m too busy wheezing to attempt any getaway.

“Now, where did I put my handcuffs?” he mutters to himself while I blink away tears. An audible click pulls me back to reality and I find a lock on my wrists.

“Wha-” I try, when his hands force my mouth closed. My teeth clatter but he gives no reaction to my plight. After he gags me he grabs me by the collar again, dragging me towards the plaza in front of the church, or so I think. Instead of doing that, however, he walks towards a side door. Then he inserts a key and unlocks it, forcing me inside. I’m now inside one of the many corridors inside the cathedral, and I’m heading in deeper it seems.

We pass lavish artwork and beautiful sculptures, it only conjures disgust in me. This place was never about helping people, if it was, my parents wouldn’t be gone. I would still have a sister. The rage fills me up, giving me the illusion of strength, but I know better. I learned that lesson the hard way, anger is useful but it doesn’t bring the results you want. Gagged and cuffed, I’m pushed through another door.

“Hey, I caught a little troublemaker, where should I put him? my captor asks, I can see a young man sitting at a table. Eating lunch probably, he swallows before responding.

“What was he doing?” the man asks before narrowing his eyes, “How come you gagged him?” The guard that captured me sighs.

“I didn’t want to, but he’s a mage. Started casting something so I shut him up.” The man’s expression relaxes.

“A mage? At his age? Surely he couldn’t have been that dangerous?” he questions.

“I’m not taking chances with the magical sort, that never ends well,” the guard says, grimacing, “Now where do I put him, Alan?” The man named Alan thinks for a moment.

“What did he actually do though? If it’s something serious I can take him to the bishop.” My face pales at that idea, I do not want the local head of the church to know my face. Luckily, the guard shakes his head.

“Nothin’ that serious. He painted some stuff on one of the walls, I’ll admit that it looked very good. Though it wasn’t exactly singing praises of the church if you catch my drift,” he says. Alan just rolls his eyes.

“Nothing that serious then, just give him to the city guards. I suggest getting him to clean it up,” he pauses for a moment and looks me in the eyes, “... Never mind that I don’t need the additional hassle of having someone keep watch on him.”

“Roger that, mister paladin, I’ll pass him over to the city guard then.” And with that exchange, my custody is decided. I don’t think I’ll get much punishment for this if I’m being honest. They have bigger things to deal with as it is. The Academy exams are coming up and that means a lot of tourists and other visitors. Not to mention the hundreds of wannabe mages that are all too eager to display their skills. No, I’ll be safe enough in their custody. Perhaps Steve will put in a good word for me too.