Suspiciously Suspicious... (6)
Art has always been ruled by the wealthy.
It cannot be helped. Artists neither dig the earth for a living nor peddle wares in the marketplace; they are people too, and people must eat bread.
Ideals soar high, yet reality is a gutter. Caught between the two, one must compromise just enough, cultivate good relations with those who open their purses, and only then can one survive.
Nobles gain artworks and something with which to flaunt their refinement; artists gain a reliable patron and the freedom to devote themselves wholly to their craft. Is that not a splendid arrangement?
Some may sneer that purchasing art with money is a base transaction, but that is knowing one thing and not the other.
No one can predict what desperate choice a failed art-school applicant might make; thus such patronage also serves to support gifted students and quietly prevent those extremes before they happen.
...Even the name is suspicious.
And so art has forever been dominated by money.
By the commissions of nobles, by the patronage of millionaires, by the requests of those who are suspiciously rich.
Then what, precisely, is the case of this “suspiciously cultured marquis” standing before my eyes?
I am certain of it.
This marquis belongs to the category of the suspiciously wealthy aficionado.
In the first place, this is the same fellow who stood on the dais at the banquet hall Iscal attended, isn’t he?
Ash-gray hair combed back without a single strand out of place, a spine held rigidly straight, an unwavering posture, and a gait both elegant and dignified—the textbook image of a perfect elderly noble is a feature one simply cannot mistake.
And so I hesitated. If my memory served, this marquis had been deeply influenced by the abnormal desires I had unleashed upon this other world. Was it truly wise to summon him to the Holy Land? I fretted that he might spread unwholesome ideas among the dwarves.
Ding—!
Recommendation: Invite the “Suspiciously Cultured Marquis” to the Holy Land!!
Would you like to invite the marquis to the Holy Land? A large amount of Faith will be consumed!
Kenelm had even bolded the word “recommendation” and sent the message a second time for emphasis.
When she stressed a recommendation this hard, it meant she had some scheme of her own in mind. Trusting Kenelm’s judgment, I firmly pressed the YES on the message window.
Fanfare—!
Inviting the “Suspiciously Cultured Marquis” to the Holy Land!
Estimated time required: ——:——
Faith drained away in a rush. The amount was a little steep, yet still well within my means.
Sparkling stars bloomed on the screen with a cheerful piro-rong effect and streaked toward the suspicious marquis. Tiny stars flickered like fireflies, dancing before his face.
“O-oh my! What in the world is this…?”
“Starlight… is it? But why is it circling around Marquis Perius like that?”
“Th-that’s it! It’s exactly the same light that appeared when the gate to the Holy Land opened and the god guided the pilgrims!”
“Hoh! Does that mean the Marquis has received the god’s summons?”
A small stir rose through the banquet hall at the sudden appearance of the starlight. The marquis himself looked briefly startled, then smoothly restored order and began to follow the stars.
That direction… led straight to the Dimensional Gate standing before the Pantheon.
Left alone, he would arrive at the Holy Land on his own.
With time remaining until the marquis’s arrival, I turned to watch Iver the Frost Dragon. Despite her name, the frost dragon adored warmth and was often found floating blissfully in the hot springs.
…How does she even stay afloat with that round little belly?
Tiny wings fluttering this way and that, Iver paddled through the spring and let out a long, contented ppi-iiii— as though she had found paradise itself. Dragon or puppy—it was hard to tell.
— Splash, splash!
— “Ppiik! Pik, ppiik!”
— “Ugh, aaagh! Iver, you old—! Stop making waves, will you?!”
— “Ppiik…”
— “Why are you crushing our Iver’s spirit like that?! A kid’s allowed to splash a little!!”
— “Look at that heartless bastard! There, there, Iver, you’re fine! Go on and swim! No—how about a swimming race with Uncle?”
— “Ppiik!”
I watched Iver and the dwarves thrashing about until one of the items I had bought from the Mystery Shop suddenly came to mind. It was called the “Love Duck,” and no matter how I looked at it, it was nothing more than a bath toy.
Curious whether it would work inside the Holy Land, I gave it a tentative drag—and it worked perfectly.
— “Ppiik? Ppiiik!”
Iver, paddling busily, spotted the bright-yellow duck toy and lunged for it at once. She clutched it tightly to her chest and rubbed her cheek against it, clearly delighted.
The wholehearted reaction felt exactly like watching a puppy at a country grandmother’s house. I whiled away the time watching the dwarves and Iver, yet the marquis still had not arrived.
Might as well get some housework done while I wait.
I washed the empty bowl of bean-sprout ketchup salad I had scraped clean, ran the vacuum, and even started a load of laundry.
Ding—!
The “Suspiciously Cultured Marquis” has arrived in the Holy Land!
Only long after all that did the marquis finally appear.
I found myself growing curious about just what Kenelm had been thinking when she recommended this particular guest.
This banquet, too, was perfect. Behind his mask, Marquis Perius wore a look of deep satisfaction. What a flawless gathering this was.
A refined venue where those who truly understood art could mingle and exchange ideas. Look at them debating art with such earnest passion—this place of culture and society was of his own making.
“When one speaks of the most pleasing ears, one must of course mention those of the dog, mankind’s most faithful friend—”
“Hahaha. Your jest goes too far. The aloof, inscrutable charm of the cat is the true—”
“Personally, I find the ears of a horse…”
Marquis Perius savored the swelling pride. The paintings that glittered under the chandelier’s light seemed almost to applaud him.
This banquet hall and these paintings were living proof that his decision to retire without regret from the Empire and settle in the Holy City had been correct.
This latest painting is exquisite as well.
Every soft strand of fur on the cat ears rendered alive, the young lady’s clear eyes filled with sulky irritation, her arms tightly crossed, the contrasting flush of her cheeks, and a single tear hanging like morning dew.
And the gently swaying tail.
All of it struck a deep chord in Marquis Perius’s heart.
He still remembered the thrill of the first time he had chanced upon a painting of animal ears!
Lightning had struck his skull and raced through his entire body; a second, invisible eye had opened. He swore it had been destiny.
Like the trite love songs of minstrels, if one were to meet at first sight the companion with whom one would spend a lifetime, it would feel exactly like this.
That very day the marquis had retired from the imperial palace without a second thought and set out for the Holy City.
Upon arrival he had poured the fortune he brought from the Empire into a frenzied acquisition of paintings. Money was plentiful; paintings were scarce.
Months later, those who shared his tastes had gathered, and the gatherings had grown into banquets of this scale.
I hope the next painting is discovered soon.
His heart was that of a child waiting for a gift. Yet his outward bearing remained flawless to the last detail.
His tastes might be a touch eccentric, but he had been born a noble; every gesture carried a natural, overwhelming dignity.
Fwaaah—
The soft music that filled the hall fell silent in an instant, and the quiet murmur of conversation ceased.
“Wh-what is that?”
“Stars? Are those stars…?”
“My lord Marquis! Did you prepare this as well?”
Things more brilliantly multicolored than the jewel-studded chandelier itself appeared at the center of the banquet hall. They darted through the air like glittering birds.
Graceful and unhurried as butterflies, they drifted toward Marquis Perius, who stood staring blankly at the starlight. Then they gently took his hand and drew him forward.
As if bidding him to follow.
Someone who recognized them cried out almost in a scream.
“Ah—ah!! That light! When the gate to the Holy Land opened, the god guided the pilgrims with those very stars!!”
“Oh my goodness! Then… could it be that the Marquis has received the god’s summons?!”
“Hoh— Has the god Himself recognized the Marquis’s aesthetic eye?”
At the cry, the guests began to whisper and stare at him. Caught in a situation he had never once imagined even in dreams, Marquis Perius was briefly flustered, yet he quickly recovered his composure.
Thud—
He struck the floor with his cane, drawing every eye.
“Ladies and gentlemen who have traveled far to attend, I am deeply sorry, but an unforeseen matter has arisen and I must bring this gathering to a close. I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience caused by this unexpected turn of events.”
He bowed low in apology. Strictly speaking it was not his fault, yet as host he apologized all the same.
Fortunately the guests accepted it without complaint; some even offered encouragement.
Tsupat, tsupapat—
The starlight tugged insistently at his collar, urging him on. Sensing that little time remained, the marquis swiftly issued orders to his butler.
“Butler. I do not know when I shall return, so clear the banquet hall and the mansion and take the servants to the villa. No matter what happens, the paintings must be treated as the highest priority. While I am away, do not act rashly and receive no guests.”
“Yes, my lord. Understood.”
The butler bowed deeply in acknowledgment.
The paintings the marquis collected were of a taste too embarrassing to speak of aloud, and he himself was well aware of the fact. In the worst case, he could be branded with the infamous reputation of consorting with beasts.
Having just received a report from the gatekeeper—who secretly scrutinized every guest—that an unfamiliar visitor had entered and then left only moments earlier, the marquis chose caution.
Had it been a brief absence he might have left the mansion as it was, but since he did not know when he would return, he ordered the entire estate emptied as a precaution.
Tsupapat—!
“Ahem. I shall be going now.”
The starlight yanked so hard his collar nearly tore. Drawn by its power, the marquis set his feet in motion.
Through the alleys of the Holy City, across the main thoroughfare, all the way to the Pantheon known as the heart of the faith—the starlight led him onward.
At last he stood before a colossal gate. Its size rivaled the door of a giant, heavy enough that several grown men would struggle to move it.
Krrrk—!
Overawed by the gate’s sheer scale, the marquis approached slowly. Of its own accord the massive door began to open.
When it stopped, a gap wide enough for five adults to pass had appeared. Beyond it nothing could be seen—only abyss and darkness.
Hoo—
Drawing a deep breath, the marquis neatened his attire, swept a hand through his hair once more, and then—
tapping his cane firmly, he walked forward. The starlight that had guided him to the gate flew ahead, showing the way.
How long did he advance through the dark?
Shaaaah—
In the next moment Marquis Perius found himself standing upon a grassy plain where a cool breeze was blowing.