The Perfect Knight and the Illusionist (BL)

MARIUS

It was quite a proceeding, escorting, or more accurately, merely accompanying, the Second Consort around the Academy.

The ultimate purpose and honor of a Royal Knight was to serve the Royal Family. The order of importance was clear: the Emperor Himself; the Heir Apparent; the Second in Line to the Throne, the second son; the Empress; and the Second Consort.

However, although I tried not to concern myself with dishonorable rumors and gossip regarding the Royal Family, it was often said that, for the Emperor Himself, the Second Consort might even be the second most important person in the entire Empire, much to the grievance of the Empress and those loyal to her.

The Dean followed closely behind her, just close enough to be visible at a side glance to the Second Consort, but not far enough ahead that he was in line with or, God forbid, ahead of her. As they walked, he showed her various portraits and artifacts that lined the hallway, in which she didn’t seem to show much interest.

Despite her lack of interest in historical art, the fact that she chose to visit the art club’s exhibition hall before anything else at the festival confirmed that the special requests and preparations were justified.

Once we arrived at the exhibition hall, with the herald’s announcement, what caught my eye first was Falken, who hadn’t been present at the ceremony. I saw him standing near Blanche, looking at what I presumed was a painting she had made, looking uncharacteristically unsettled. As soon as he saw us enter the hall, I noticed that he directed the Dean with his eyes to bring the Second Consort to the other artworks first, diverting her away from Blanche’s piece.

What could have made Falken lose his composure?

I wondered.

But for now, the Second Consort was looking at Fabian’s sculpture, which I had already seen during my visits to the art room when Liesel was painting ’my’ portrait. The Second Consort seemed delighted when she saw the nine-headed dragon.

"Oh my, this is a fantastic piece of work. A legendary nine-headed dragon, isn’t it?" she asked Fabian.

"Yes, Your Imperial Highness," Fabian confirmed.

"I always liked this story as a child. Tell me, young man, what inspired you to make this sculpture?"

"It has also been one of my favorite childhood bedtime stories, Your Imperial Highness."

"Oh, didn’t you get scared?"

"I was more excited by the hero’s victory than scared of the dragon. Also, I had always been fascinated by the possibility that one of the ’heads’ still walks among us," Fabian spoke fluently. Unafraid.

It was an admirable demonstration of courage and confidence that I hadn’t seen from him before.

"I’d like to think that the story is true," the Second Consort said with a smile. Everyone around her put on a smile too and nodded.

After the dragon, the Second Consort was guided to Liesel’s painting of the Perfect Knight, and much to my embarrassment, "What a good-looking young man!" was the first thing she exclaimed upon seeing the portrait.

Liesel let out a giggle, which earned her a frown from the Dean, but she didn’t mind.

"That good-looking young man is standing right behind you, Your Imperial Highness," she said.

Confused, the Second Consort turned around, spotted me, and her face immediately lit up with a grin.

"Oh wow, so YOU are the model!"

"Yes, Your Imperial Highness," I admitted, bowing deeply.

"I hope you don’t mind my forwardness in commenting on your looks," the Second Consort quipped.

"Not at all, Your Imperial Highness," I said humbly.

Then there was a bit of chat about why Liesel chose to draw a knight—to serve as a perfect role model for the aspiring students. ’And what better way to do that than using the most handsome man in the Academy as a model?’ she said. Then Liesel and the Second Consort both laughed, with Liesel receiving the honor of having her arm lightly and jokingly pinched by the Second Consort.

After the portrait of the Perfect Knight, it was finally time to look at Skylark’s picture, which even I hadn’t been able to see beforehand, as he wanted it to be a surprise.

And a surprise it was.

I immediately recognized the scene when I looked at the picture: the arrest of the circus magician at the Hoffberg festival. It wasn’t particularly skillfully drawn, but the picture had a haunting quality to it, and I felt a pang in my heart once the weight of the event and the recognition landed in my mind—this was Skylark’s perception of the event. It was violent, anxious, and horrifying. And I was leading the—

It was then that I realized that Skylark had omitted me from the picture.

That hurt more than being depicted.

"Oh, you are the one from the opening ceremony earlier!" the Second Consort recognized Skylark immediately when she saw him standing next to his picture.

"Heh, yes," Skylark said, scratching his head.

"Thank you for cheering me on earlier," she said.

"No problem at all, Ma’am."

"It’s YOUR IMPERIAL HIGHNESS," the herald, who had been standing in silence throughout, corrected Skylark immediately.

"I’m sorry, YOUR IMPERIAL HIGHNESS!" Skylark yelped.

"Haha, it’s okay. What does the title matter anyway?" the Second Consort laughed it off, looked at Skylark’s picture, then commented as she leaned in to look at it in more detail, "This is an interesting one. May I ask what this is about?"

"Your Highness," Skylark spoke with unusual, and somewhat forced,formality in his tone, "this is what I saw at a festival in Hoffberg."

"What is happening here?" she asked.

"I don’t really know."

"But there must be a reason why you drew it?"

"Yeah, I didn’t exactly know why this man was being taken away, like, what did he do wrong? I didn’t know. But it just left a really strong impression on me."

"Tell me how it made you feel," the Second Consort pressed on.

"It made me feel... uncomfortable," Skylark said.

Then the Second Consort looked at Skylark, studying his expression, perhaps with more intent than she had when looking at the picture, and concluded,

"You have a good heart."

With that, Skylark received the honor of getting his head patted by the Second Consort.

Once the Hoffberg picture was done, there was only one more artwork for her to check out—Blanche’s painting that nobody had seen before. I saw that Falken was standing right next to the painting with Blanche. He seemed to be trying his best to regain and keep his composure, but something was clearly bothering him, while Blanche next to him looked unbothered by the occasion.

The Second Consort approached the large painting slowly with deliberate steps, taking her time to study and appreciate the spectacular art that Blanche had produced. It was a very strange painting. There was a woman in the center wearing a golden dress, its intricate details painted expertly, but she had a very large head—larger than her upper body—which made her appear ridiculous. At the same time, she was stepping on prostrating people beneath her as she walked, while the edges of the canvas were filled with contorted faces of people clearly in pain and suffering.

The picture was both fascinating and grotesque—I didn’t think anybody really knew what to make of it, but—

"I love this picture," the Second Consort announced.

"Thank you, Your Imperial Highness," Blanche said with a bow.

"Who is this lady in the middle?" the Second Consort asked.

"I do not know, Your Imperial Highness," Blanche admitted.

"Oh? What is this picture about, then?"

"I paint what I see in my dreams. I have no control over what I see, so I just draw and paint things as they appear, Your Imperial Highness."

"That is fascinating!"

Blanche certainly got the Second Consort’s attention.

"And I love this picture for some reason, although I’m not sure I understand it. But what’s really funny is," the Second Consort paused for a laugh and continued, "this big-headed lady reminds me of an old, bitter, and incredibly big-headed lady that I know."

I saw Falken’s right eye twitch. It was slight, but it was there, combined with the clenching of his fist.

I couldn’t read what the problem was, but it seemed that he clearly took offense at the Second Consort’s comment. I looked at the others present as well, and a few others, especially the high-ranking staff of the Academy and the Dean himself, couldn’t hide their displeasure at what was said.

Politics.

Even when I didn’t know what the actual context was, I knew by instinct that this was politics.

Then it became clear—the Second Consort didn’t belong to the faction that the others, including Falken, were loyal to.

Blanche Belrive and her art club had managed to fulfill their obligation to please the Second Consort while equally angering, and going against, the will and spirit of those who gave her orders.