Chapter 12

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 12

Chapter Title: The Founding Duke's Biography

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"So, you're saying we should draw it like this?"

The sight of these elderly gentlemen huddled together, heads bent close, was honestly a little comical.

"No..."

Anyone could see that expert hands had passed over the canvas, leaving behind a single apple as beautiful as a gemstone.

The problem was that they'd been drawing this one apple for half a day straight.

If we dragged this out any longer, it felt like we'd be trapped here forever. So I leaned in and whispered softly to Sir Brown, who seemed to be the representative among them—the former imperial artist.

"J-just relax your touch a little more."

"Oh, right. Come to think of it, they say these days it's all about light touches rather than the heavy brushstrokes of old. Isn't that so, Sir Robid?"

Sir Robid, whose name had come out of nowhere, scratched at his half-bald pate.

"Hm, well. This aggressive style—doesn't it feel like we've just copied some foreign technique instead of our own Kletan methods?"

"Not copied—evolved. Evolved."

They had a habit of diving into conversations full of jargon no one else could follow, lost in their own world.

I spoke up again before the atmosphere could heat up further.

"What I mean is, just a rough sketch of the object would do. You don't need to put this much effort in. The important thing is getting the message across."

"Hohoho, so in other words, put the story into the picture?"

Sir Brown's face lit up brightly.

This time, he turned to Sir Kedric, who had been quietly focused on his drawing.

"The world of art is truly profound, isn't it? Evolving day by day, taking on new meanings."

Sir Kedric, who had been silent for a long stretch, finally replied in a solemn voice.

"...New art, indeed. As expected of the Brail Ducal House."

"Ha, haha, ha..."

'No!'

I swallowed a silent scream at what felt like Sir Kedric's betrayal—the one who at least seemed the most grounded.

And once again, resentment toward the Duke of Brail welled up inside me.

A comic book was just something to kill time when you were bored. Not some masterpiece for the ages.

But these grandfatherly artists were treating this like the greatest task of their lives, burning with insane passion.

And no wonder—according to Liam's explanation, we'd scouted them with an enormous salary offer...

"Several hundred million tri!?"

"Nothing's impossible with the Duke of Brail's wealth."

As someone who was a princess of a kingdom but had lived poorer than a street beggar, I couldn't help but be stunned by the duke's outrageous scale.

"Anyway, Lady. We've grasped the content you described. And what we need to convey."

"Pardon?"

Sir Brown, who had been introduced to me only as some distant noble lady to hide my identity, bowed politely.

His earnest attitude only made me more uneasy.

"...What do you mean by 'convey'?"

I asked cautiously, but the artists, trapped in their own bubble, didn't even register my question.

"We'll just need a bit of time."

"Yes, we have a lot to coordinate among ourselves."

They murmured among themselves again and shuffled out before I could even respond.

Stumbling out of the now-empty studio, I had to struggle just to collect my dazed thoughts.

At the same time, a wave of insane frustration crashed over me.

'All I wanted was to rest comfortably in my room!'

For some reason, this unasked-for comic book project felt like it would only make my life harder—an ominous premonition that wouldn't fade.

There's that saying, right? Why is it that sad premonitions are never wrong?

I alternated glances between the huge, heavy book in my hands and the three old men staring at me with expectant eyes.

Sir Robid, standing at the front, spread his arms proudly.

"A comic book chronicling the great achievements of the Founding Duke of Brail."

"Ahh..."

In short... a b-biography?

With trembling hands, I slowly opened the cover of the book, which was oversized even compared to average.

And sure enough.

"Ha, haha..."

A hollow laugh escaped my lips as I saw what followed.

To sum up this grand comic's content simply: It started with the birth of the Founding Duke of Brail.

The Founding Duke of Brail was born from an egg, no less. And from age five, he breathed fire from his mouth to conquer monsters.

That wasn't all. From age ten, he could spread his arms to sprout wings from his armpits and fly around. A single powerful flap of those wings whipped up a gale to defeat his enemies.

Not to mention making bombs from pinecones and crossing Mirror Lake on a single leaf—an epic saga on that level...

'At this point, was the Founding Duke the one slaying monsters, or was he the monster himself?'

The problem didn't end there.

Thud.

I snapped shut this comic of unknown genre. I couldn't bear to look at any more.

'It's just not fun at all...'

I couldn't say it outright to these grandpas beaming at me with shining eyes, but this comic was downright awful.

Setting aside the ridiculousness and the insanely high production quality, there was nothing else to it.

It didn't even have any profound moral. If I squeezed one out by force, maybe 'Defy the Duke of Brail and you'll die'?

Since the Duke of Brail had ordered this comic in the first place, it felt like part of his grand scheme.

'Like, "Don't get blown up by pinecone grenades—be an obedient slave"?'

If my guess was right.

If this was his big picture...

'I absolutely can't act up.'

Hahaha.

I let out a bitter laugh.

"What do you think?"

Sir Brown, who had led this biography project, asked cautiously.

"I heard the Lady would give the final evaluation to the Duke of Brail."

"I, uh..."

I turned my head, avoiding their heavy gazes.

Of course I wanted to say something nice. To encourage them, tell them they'd done enough.

But... but!

'N-no, not even a white lie would work.'

Compared to the masterpieces I'd seen in my modern life, this was just too much.

No heart-wrenching romance, no spine-chilling revenge—just the invincible saga of a monster Duke of Brail sprouting wings and gales from his armpits.

After hesitating for a moment, I lifted my head again.

"Maybe we could rethink the purpose a little?"

"The purpose? This is to honor His Highness the Founding Duke of Brail's greatness...!"

Taking it as an insult to their work, Sir Robid's bald head flushed red.

I reached out to calm him and continued my explanation steadily.

"Look, here's the thing."

If I didn't convince them properly this time, I'd be stuck appreciating this massively expensive paper trash.

I had to prevent that at all costs.

"The most important thing is fun. Sir Brown, do you find the Founding Duke of Brail's biography entertaining?"

"...We drew it with admiration for a great man's achievements."

In other words, fun wasn't even on the table?

Perhaps noticing my pointed look, he added by way of excuse.

"Art that's just for cheap thrills is seen as lowbrow among scholars, isn't it?"

"And for mere light entertainment, it's a waste of the labor from artists like us gathered here."

Even Sir Kedric chimed in.

I shook my head. Art would eventually escape the nobility's grasp, whether now or later.

When that happened, it needed to be lighter, more inherently fun. Just like in my old world.

"People started drawing pictures in the first place—and the profession was born—to bring joy and happiness to others, right?"

"......"

"That's what I meant. Nothing's changed there."

Thud.

Sir Brown's tensed arm went limp.

Sirs Robid and Kedric stared at me with expressions hard to read.

Under their attention in the silence, heat rose to my face.

'Did I spout too much nonsense?'

But what could I do?

I wouldn't watch this even if they paid me. Boo-hoo.

"...Lady."

How much time passed like that?

Sir Brown approached me with a softened expression.

"We've been in this field so long, we've lost our初心 somewhere along the way."

"...Pardon?"

"You're right, Lady. We started painting because it was fun. But at some point, we began piling on fancy rhetoric about art's grandeur, maybe to make ourselves feel great through it."

His wrinkled eyes seemed misty with tears I didn't want to believe were real.

"N-no, that's not it. You all are truly amazing."

"Hohoho, no need for that. If we want to be truly great, we need to give fun to the viewers, as you said. So..."

Sir Brown asked in a serious tone.

"What should we do?"

What should they do?

I sank deep into thought.