Happy Life
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Remaining days of the first month:
Raphael opened his eyes, coughed, looked at Kaya curled up beside him, and then at the shutters – almost no light penetrated through them, which meant he had woken up in darkness again. In recent weeks, he had been sleeping little and poorly, and even alcohol hadn't helped. Every new sip or cup only intensified the oppressive atmosphere in his head; the unnatural silence in headquarters was unnerving, and the newspaper articles didn't bring joy. Many evenings, the merchant spent silently filling out accounting books in the dim light of a single lamp, counting piles of currency.
During one such moment, he decided to overcome this depressing feeling and channel it into something more productive. For the first time since arriving, he retrieved his art supplies, set them up, and locked himself in his office for several days with a large amount of alcohol and tobacco, emerging only occasionally for basic needs.
The result was a painting with the following characteristics: In the foreground is a narrow brick parapet, on the edge of which stands an unknown traveler in a hood, with a black cat sitting at his feet. Before them lies a vast view of a city shrouded in gray mist. Tall buildings rise like a wall towards the sky and are completely abandoned; their windows are broken. The lower floors of the buildings are hidden by fog - the streets cannot be seen, but it is clear that they are completely empty. There are no birds in the sky; the last faint yellow rays of the autumn sunset break through the clouds to the right of the observer on the parapet, while on the left, darkness gradually envelops the city. In the distance, in this gloom, you can see a tornado forming.
After applying the final stroke, exhausted Raphael lost all strength, collapsed onto the bed as he was, and fell into a deep, painful sleep, from which he saw nothing.
The next day, he got up only in the evening – Garmiid sat drowsing in a chair, apparently not having woken Raphael during the entire day, and in the center of the room stood the canvas with the painting. Brushes, paints, palette, bottles on the floor, bottles on the tables, cigarette butts, rags, papers, even scattered trails of tobacco – all the mess was arranged in a peculiar way around the canvas on the floor and furniture throughout the room, creating a perfectly converging spiral on the painting. How he did all this, and how he painted it – Raphael couldn't remember at all. On the back of the canvas, he found an inscription, obviously made with a trembling hand, and heavily diluted with paint that had spread down: Wisteria.
- Not very original... - the artist shook his head and grimaced at the heaviness in it.
Nevertheless, he felt that something inside him had changed after this episode. Having poured out the oppressive feeling onto the canvas, analyzing it with his gaze, mind, heart, soul, and all synapses, he somehow tamed the demon that threatened to consume his entire being.
His thoughts turned to his comrades from the "Golden Griffin," to all the problems they had faced and overcome, and to his own tasks facing him here and now, to Rish, Alma, Eyma, and Viola, to Valdemar and Rogdan.
- Well… I can do everything that is required of me, and even more. Understand? - he said to Garmiid, who had woken up from the noise and still didn't realize anything. - When they return, I will make them live like kings, without fail. Look how much money I have already saved for this bright day. And there will be much more. Gold, silver, wine, women, and glory. You’ll see. And besides – you will personally see how we will all drink together with the baron.
Raphael cheerfully approached the curtains and pulled them open, greeting the bright sun of a new day – but since he woke up in the evening, there was no sun anymore. This did not bother him at all. He decided to spend the beginning – the remainder – of the day taking a walk around the city, and then return to headquarters and finish all urgent matters.
During his walk, he even ventured into the library of the local church for variety, about which he had heard so many casual conversations from the Griffins, previously only causing him to roll his eyes. The book covers evoked amusing associations in him – as if he had walked into an entertainment establishment back home. Guided by this association, he chose the most attractive one and decided to see what the local "spiritually rich" population was interested in.
Raphael opened his eyes, coughed, looked at Kaya curled up beside him, and then at the shutters – almost no light penetrated through them, which meant he had woken up in darkness again. In recent weeks, he had been sleeping little and poorly, and even alcohol hadn't helped. Every new sip or cup only intensified the oppressive atmosphere in his head; the unnatural silence in headquarters was unnerving, and the newspaper articles didn't bring joy. Many evenings, the merchant spent silently filling out accounting books in the dim light of a single lamp, counting piles of currency.
During one such moment, he decided to overcome this depressing feeling and channel it into something more productive. For the first time since arriving, he retrieved his art supplies, set them up, and locked himself in his office for several days with a large amount of alcohol and tobacco, emerging only occasionally for basic needs.
The result was a painting with the following characteristics: In the foreground is a narrow brick parapet, on the edge of which stands an unknown traveler in a hood, with a black cat sitting at his feet. Before them lies a vast view of a city shrouded in gray mist. Tall buildings rise like a wall towards the sky and are completely abandoned; their windows are broken. The lower floors of the buildings are hidden by fog - the streets cannot be seen, but it is clear that they are completely empty. There are no birds in the sky; the last faint yellow rays of the autumn sunset break through the clouds to the right of the observer on the parapet, while on the left, darkness gradually envelops the city. In the distance, in this gloom, you can see a tornado forming.
After applying the final stroke, exhausted Raphael lost all strength, collapsed onto the bed as he was, and fell into a deep, painful sleep, from which he saw nothing.
The next day, he got up only in the evening – Garmiid sat drowsing in a chair, apparently not having woken Raphael during the entire day, and in the center of the room stood the canvas with the painting. Brushes, paints, palette, bottles on the floor, bottles on the tables, cigarette butts, rags, papers, even scattered trails of tobacco – all the mess was arranged in a peculiar way around the canvas on the floor and furniture throughout the room, creating a perfectly converging spiral on the painting. How he did all this, and how he painted it – Raphael couldn't remember at all. On the back of the canvas, he found an inscription, obviously made with a trembling hand, and heavily diluted with paint that had spread down: Wisteria.
- Not very original... - the artist shook his head and grimaced at the heaviness in it.
Nevertheless, he felt that something inside him had changed after this episode. Having poured out the oppressive feeling onto the canvas, analyzing it with his gaze, mind, heart, soul, and all synapses, he somehow tamed the demon that threatened to consume his entire being.
His thoughts turned to his comrades from the "Golden Griffin," to all the problems they had faced and overcome, and to his own tasks facing him here and now, to Rish, Alma, Eyma, and Viola, to Valdemar and Rogdan.
- Well… I can do everything that is required of me, and even more. Understand? - he said to Garmiid, who had woken up from the noise and still didn't realize anything. - When they return, I will make them live like kings, without fail. Look how much money I have already saved for this bright day. And there will be much more. Gold, silver, wine, women, and glory. You’ll see. And besides – you will personally see how we will all drink together with the baron.
Raphael cheerfully approached the curtains and pulled them open, greeting the bright sun of a new day – but since he woke up in the evening, there was no sun anymore. This did not bother him at all. He decided to spend the beginning – the remainder – of the day taking a walk around the city, and then return to headquarters and finish all urgent matters.
During his walk, he even ventured into the library of the local church for variety, about which he had heard so many casual conversations from the Griffins, previously only causing him to roll his eyes. The book covers evoked amusing associations in him – as if he had walked into an entertainment establishment back home. Guided by this association, he chose the most attractive one and decided to see what the local "spiritually rich" population was interested in.
My sword, my trusted ally, unphased by my aspect.
