Part 2

The door creaked open. Edward found himself surrounded by shadows dense enough to appear solid, with a single lane of light splitting the darkness, leading further into the room. The planks squeaked underneath him with each step forward. A lantern dangled from the ceiling. He lit it up, and the whole storeroom lit up in bleak colourless hues.
All manners of knick-knack from across the continent had been gathered there, yet one could scarcely believe there was anything there except dust. Nobody could be as surprised as him that he would once again seek out something he needed from that room. And that of all the things he was in need of, it was that one thing her mother had left her.
He locked the door behind him.

He wiped the surface of dust before him with his sleeve. His reflection stared back. One could easily describe him as ruggedly handsome, albeit somewhat more rugged than handsome. His face was drawn, with dark circles under his eyes. Yet his low cheekbones and pronounced brow gave the illusion of an intelligent and reliable man. His thoughtful gaze was that of a man in deep contemplation in anything he did. He kept his dark wavy hair swept over his neck when painting, which is to say all his waking time. He couldn’t remember the last time he shaved, but from what he could tell his goatee remained contained. Sure, it made him look elusive. Wild even. But the appearance of someone sickly or neglectful in his appearance eluded him no matter what. Together, it gave the impression of someone both confident and deeply sensitive.
He reached towards the bottom of the frame. There, a copper ring in the form of a snake was embedded. With a tug, he turned it clockwise three revolutions, then counter-clockwise one revolution. A buzzing sound came from the mirror. He looked up. In place of his mirror image, he found a void of black smoke swirling before him.

Maybe he wasn’t the most religious person around, but he was an Orderite, dammit. He belonged to the epitome of civilization and the culmination of millenia of struggle for independence from monster tyranny. He was proud to be an Orderite, and had no intention of involving himself with any Snake Cult.
But when it came to his passion, he could not compromise.

A shadowy blur approximating the figure of a cloaked humanoid emerged in the mirror, its glowing eyes locked on to Edward from beyond the surface.
Whatever it was, it waited for the artist to speak first.
“Mrs Frown?”
The humanoid nodded.
“My name is Edward Potstott. The son of Elizabeth Potstott. In her life she served your cause and accrued a favour from your group. Since then she has passed on, and she did so before she could collect her favour. Now it falls in my hands as her legacy. I stand before you to claim it as my birthright. You will serve my cause this once. And then your debt to my mother will have been redeemed.”

Like him, Edward’s mother was a dedicated Orderite. A believer. The two of them might not have gotten along with much, but just like him she wanted no part of any cult. She did end up serving their ends, but not by choice. It was merely in service of the town to make it a better place, which just so happened to benefit the cult. Because of that, Elizabeth had earned a favour from the cult. And now that favour was Edward’s.
“Edward Potstott…” The cloaked figure hissed to herself in a soft monotone voice. Underneath the cloak was indeed a mask with a frowning expression, “I remember your mother. A good woman… She earned her favour…”
“So you’ll help me?”

“Tell me, Edward Potstott… Is it your current project with which you seek assistance? In regards to the town muster?”
Edward blinked, “Yes…”
“Ah… Do not be alarmed. Us snakes have ears on the ground. Ears everywhere. There is little that eludes us. But then, I am afraid that your request is beyond us. We simply cannot assist.”
Edward snorted, “Figures. Shows how much the word of a snake is worth.”
“It is unfortunate, I admit. But absolutely vital. We cannot aid you in your service to the Knights. They took our land. They desecrated our temples. They sought to destroy our legacy. What pray do we accomplish by cleaning the boot which steps on us? You understand. Don’t you?”

Edward didn’t speak a word. He unrolled the poster, and showed it to Mrs Frown. She looked it over in silence.
“...I will see what I can do.” The cloaked figure said, “But when this is over, you are the one who will owe us a favour. A big one.”
“And let me guess, unlike you I won’t be able to slither my way out of it?”
“Rest assured, we will ask nothing of you that risks harm to yourself or your loved ones. That is not our way. Know this, however, that we are absolutely dedicated to our cause. Do not be surprised if we ask of you something quite… unsavory.”
“So just another weekday in the life of Edward Potstott,” He laughed, “Sure, lay it on me.”
The shadow laughed heartily as the dark smoke billowed and grew denser around her, “I see that many a great thing will befall a man with ambitions such as yours. Both bliss and tragedy alike. Your wish shall come true. Then our debt shall have been repaid. Until next time.”

The smoke thinned out. Once again, Edward found himself staring back at his own reflection. The magic had been exhausted once and for all. He looked at a mirror as ordinary and mundane as anything in the attic. The talk he had with Mrs Frown seemed like a distant dream.
Yet the resolve he felt to get his message heard assured him that what transpired was as real as anything.
Oh, what you won’t do for the sake of art…

After a quick prayer, bailiff Erika vonMeurhavan had her armour doffed and its components cleaned and arranged on the table for tomorrow. She knelt down to pray, then she washed her face and hair in the basin. Just before heading for bed, she prayed once more. She slipped between the sheets, pleased with once again having made a difference, and let out a satisfied gasp. The warmth quickly settled over her. In spite of the hearth glowing a healthy crimson, the night air had cooled the quarters above the convent. So she took the opportunity to really cozy up under the blanket. Her head sank into the pillow, and slowly but surely, she drifted to sleep.

The final embers in the fireplace were about to die out, when a sleek little thing found its way through a gap between the wall and the hearth, slinking out onto the floor. That was a snake. One with rose-coloured scales, no larger than a twig. With suffocating darkness in its eyesockets. It could appear slimy from one angle and dry from another. It could appear stiff as a statue at one moment, and almost amorphous the next. It all depended on how you looked at it. Either way, it decidedly slithered across the floor. Towards the bed. She might not have noticed something this stealthy and innocuous even when wide awake. But after an entire day spent serving the faith of the Order and the Meruvean Knights, she might have slept through a battle right next to her ear.
The pink snake wound itself around one of the bed posts. It slithered up the bed, and onto the mattress. The undulating tail climbed her body and crossed over the blanket. She did not even twitch. When she got to the pillow side, the snake slipped under the blanket, slithering next to her. Then it stopped. Within biting distance of her neck.

Its maws opened. The long protruding fangs pointed at her rosy skin. The darkness in its eyes flickered. For a moment, they resembled the poster of an anthropomorphized Meruvia that she had rejected earlier. Its eyes flickered again. A red heart glowed inside each of the hollows.
The fangs sank into her throat. Only a quick nudge. They left a pair of deep red puncture marks in their wake, but they faded quickly into her light hue.
The deed was done. And she did not even notice. The snake followed its own trail back to the floor and behind the hearth, leaving the bailiff to rest for the night.

The next morning, Edward awoke from some relentless knocking on the door. He was not pleased to get up before the sun. At all. Usually he required the assistance of his good friend Mr Tankard to fall asleep, so he was used to something of a rough start to his day. His direct contacts should all be well aware of that.
Well, the knocking only got louder and more rapid with time, so it must have been important. He opened the door to find none other than bailiff vonMeurhavan at his doorstep, greeting him with a nervous smile.
“Ah, why good morning, mister Toss… Pot… Mister Pottat… Mister Potato…?”
“Edward. Call me Edward.” He mumbled.
“Yes. Quite. Lovely day today, Edward! Isn’t it?”
He rubbed his eye, “By the goodness of the Chief God… I sure hope so.”
“Hah. Very amusing Edward. Mind if I come inside?”

She didn’t wait for Edward to answer, but stormed past him into the atelier.
“Where is she?” the bailiff looked about frantically.
“Where is… who?” Edward asked.
The bailiff answered by drawing her sword, “Don’t play coy with me! Who else would I be talking about? It’s Meruvia! The apple of my eye! The gem of all my days! How can you even think that anything else at all could be worth coming for!?”

Edward backed as far away from the sword as possible. If he knew he would find himself in such a predicament, he’d have cleaned up so he could back away further.
“No, no… It’s just… Well, nevermind.” He raised his arm slowly and carefully to point at the firewood next to the hearth, “It’s right over there, miss Bailiff.”
With a gasp, she dropped the sword and lunged towards the rolled up scroll to sweep it off that most dangerous spot for a painting.
“You were gonna BURN her?” She shrieked, clutching the canvas.
“Yeah… I mean,” Edward scratched the back of his head, “I figured, I might as well start over considering all you asked me. Is that a problem?”

“You… Yes!” She shouted, “This is no mere fuel for the fireplace! This is the love of my life! You can’t have her! No one else can! She’s mine!”

The bailiff headed to the exit. She did not bother picking up her sword.
“Miss Bailiff, wait.”
She stopped, peering over her shoulder, “What?”
“You do know I had to suffer and dedicate myself to make her? That's what artists do. I feel the same way you do… Well, not quite the same. More like I love her the way a father loves his daughter.”
“But… I can’t stand to be without her.” She pouted.
“No… I’m not asking that of you. All I’m saying is that Meruvia was meant to be free. To be loved by as many people as possible. She wants the love and pride of her state to reach all those who inhabit it. And… If you really love her, you will understand that much. And you will want that for her too.”
Her frown turned into an angry scowl. It didn’t take long before she shook her head with a sympathetic look in her eyes, “I… I do want that… But…”
She ran out of the atelier without another word.
Edward could only sigh. He lifted the sword by the pommel, propping it against the wall.
Hopefully the bailiff would be able to do what was right.

Not even a week passed, and the poster became plastered all over the town of Biellfort. Of course, in public spaces where children might see them, a version of the poster modified to be more tasteful was posted instead. But in taverns, galleries, smitties and the barbershop, Meruvia looked upon her brave inhabitants with patriotic pride.

“Did you sleep with the bailiff?” Asked Rutger, the young man who lived and worked with the barber twins.
“No!” Edward said, sounding more defensive than he intended.
Rutger peered behind himself, preparing the lather that would be used to trim Edward’s beard, “Well, something must have made the Knights look the other way with a picture like this. And for the Edward I know, there’s nothing that moves he won’t make bump-ugly with. Either that, or it’s a miracle.”
“There’s no miracle to it, Rutger my friend.” Edward leaned in on the stool the barbers put out for the customer, “When someone’s passionate for their craft, they will be able to go those extra miles. Plus, it does help if the Chief God happened to bless him with a smooth voice and irresistible charm.”
“Aha… Look, I don’t care whether or not you slept with a Meruvean Knight. Just… Be careful it won’t come back to bite you.”
Edward opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn’t come up with anything to say. After all, what he had done made him indebted to an ungodly cult. Whatever they asked of him, it might turn out to have devastating consequences.
His eyes peered at the poster of that most illustrious woman.
“Rutger, my dear friend… Whatever happens, it will have been worth it.”