Renaissance of Muses for the Maestro Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The inside of the museum was void of both people and sound. We carefully proceeded through the windowless hallways, Snow’s fire lighting our way.

Heathcliff: …It feels kind of special, being inside an empty museum.

Akira: Ditto…I’m scared and excited all the same.

Along the path, ‘it’ had entered our view–the so-called resurrected Pict’s painting of many reds.

Mitile: …

We all looked at it together in silence. It was this painting that might be a forgery.

Yet even so, my eyes couldn’t help being drawn to it. The artwork in front of me was still so captivating.

Mitile: Excuse me, Mister Rustica…

I’ve never seen the real Pict’s art for myself, but are all these paintings of ‘his’ really fakes?

The majority of the gallery visitors were fans of Pict, right? But they didn’t notice anything…

Maybe it could still be that Pict actually did come back from the dead, and painted these works…

He spoke like he was wishing for it to be true, voice full of sincerity. In response, Rustica gave a soft smile.

Upon seeing that, Mitile’s face relaxed, thinking that Rustica was about to kindly assure him so. 

However…

Rustica: This is a fake. It is absolutely not Pict’s work. 

Looking at it once more I can definitively say so. I was one of his fans, after all. 

Mitile: Mister Rustica…

Out of everyone here, it was Rustica who was the most knowledgeable in the arts. If he says so, then it really must be a forgery. 

Mitile: …

Rustica: There is no shame for not realizing. 

This painting’s thick strokes, colour palette, and composition are nearly identical to that of Pict's style.

…Nevertheless, this painting is not his.

Though I too might not have noticed if I had not seen that artwork beforehand.

Akira: (‘That artwork’?)

That’s when I suddenly remembered.

Akira: Hold on, where is the paintbrush…?

I survey the surroundings. Distracted by the painting in front of us we had completely forgotten about our guiding paintbrush.

Rustica: Don’t worry. It’s waiting for us.

Akira: Huh?

Retaining his soft expression he pointed to my feet. 

Below me was the paintbrush, patiently waiting and looking up at us. 

Rustica: My dear little friend, won’t you guide us to your master once more?

Exiting the heart of the display room and entering the back area of the museum, the paintbrush fluttered in the air down another hallway.

After a while, it swiftly stopped. In an odd corner out of ways from the main path of the hallway, stood an enormous painting.

Riquet: What’s wrong with it? It stopped all of a sudden.

Heathcliff: There’s nothing over there apart from that large painting. 

Chloe: Maybe the owner was just here? It could be that he thought we were the thieves instead and ran off.

Riquet: But he’s also inside the museum after hours. For what reason, though…

Mitile: Ermmm…

The young wizards were confused, observing the area closely and even talking to the brush.

Yet all the brush did was hop in one spot, not turning left or right and continuing anywhere. 

Akira: It’s possible that Chloe’s right and he did leave somewhere, confusing the brush too…

Rustica: No…I believe we have reached our destination. 

Snow: Indeed. I sense a presence behind this painting.

Akira: What!? Behind this painting…then…

Chloe peered into the gap between the wall and the painting.

Chloe: Hey, you might be right! I think this painting is covering something.

Snow: Mm. Let us move it.

Mitile: S-Should we really touch a painting for display?

Heathcliff answered his worry.

Heathcliff: I agree. If we are to move it, we should use magic carefully so as to not let our hands touch it. 

And once we return the paintbrush to its owner, we can move it back to where it was. 

Satisfied with that idea, Mitile nodded to the older boy, who took out his magic tool and quietly said his spell.

Heathcliff: Repsevaivulp Sonus.

With his spell the frame becomes engulfed in light, spreading to the painting itself and shining a rainbow sheen. The artwork as tall as a person bobbed upward.

Chloe: ...Ah! So it was a door!

We stood in surprise.

When Heathcliff moved the painting, what appeared behind the wall was a hidden door of wood.

The paintbrush began moving again, dancing and jumping to the door. 

Akira: …So the owner of this paintbrush is behind this door…

Rustica: Mmhmm. Our little paintbrush friend says so too.

Definitely suspicious. Who could our owner of this paintbrush be, hiding behind a secret door?

He probably wasn’t a thief, if he knew of this hidden door.

Akira: (He’s involved with this museum for sure…)

Rustica: Hello, whoever is beyond this door. Oh, or should I say good evening?

We came here to deliver you a forgotten item. Would you please open the door?

He knocked on wood, but no reply. 

Chloe: We, We aren’t weirdos, honest! I mean, we did sneak into the museum, but not to do anything bad…

The door was locked with a clank. 

Riquet: I don’t think we’re welcome. 

Chloe: Uuurgh, I’m sorry I botched it…

Heathcliff: No you didn’t, it can’t be helped considering the situation. But, what should we do now…

Snow: Well we could blast it with magic. However, let’s wait and see a little longer.

Mithra: Hey. You’re still not done yet?

Akira: Mithra!

Turning around I saw Mithra, with Rutile peeking from behind him. 

Rutile: We came to check up on you since it’s been a while. What’s this door…?

Chloe: About that, the owner of this paintbrush is inside. 

Snow: And we have no clue as to why he would be lurking inside there. As of now, we are peacefully trying…

Mithra: Arthim.

Everyone: HUH?!

A blast of destruction echoed through the museum, and smoke enveloped the area.

Mithra: Mission accomplished. Goodness, you guys can’t do anything without me here. 

Snow: …Mithy! Did you not hear what I was saying? PEACEFULLY, you brute!

Mithra: Oh, you said something?

Rustica: Nope. Good job, Mithra. We were able to safely open the door thanks to you!

Chloe: Safely open…you mean busted down! Is the guy in there alright?!

Akira: That was a huge noise just now…

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Renaissance of Muses for the Maestro Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Snow: …Well. No use crying over spilt milk. 

Let’s go inside…mm?

The smoke dissipated, unveiling to us not another room behind the broken door, but a set of stairs.

Akira: There’s…no one here.

Flying over the debris, the paintbrush flitted up the staircase. 

Rustica: Shall we follow it?

Feeling a little sorry about the intrusion, we hastily followed after. 

The narrow staircase fit for one person at a time led us to a room that was much the same. 

Where we were was apparently the attic, and the setting sun’s last rays of light seeped through the window.

Akira: (What is this smell…?)

A unique smell mixed with dust was in the air. At first I thought it was a storage room, until I noticed clothing, tableware, and all the signs of a person living here. 

What drew my eye the most however, was the easel set up by the wall, and the canvas draped in cloth. 

Rutile: Isn’t this…the smell of oil paint?

???: …Don’t move!

Akira: Eek!

My heart leaped with fright. When I tried to approach the easel, a man’s angry voice yelled out.

In the darkness of the room, I could see a figure holding something. Realizing it was a bladed object by its glint from the sunlight, I froze in fear. 

Akira: Ah, uhm, we don’t mean you any harm…!

Slowly, the figure that stepped out from the shadows was someone we recognized. The beret wearing youngster. 

Except up close he looked to be in his thirties, with eyebags seemingly from sleep deprivation. His body was skinny, and he had not shaved. He was incredibly tired.

The hands that gripped onto that bladed object–the palette knife were rugged and dirty with reds, blues, yellows, and more. Those stains must be from oil paint.

Rustica: Greetings, and good evening. I’m sorry we startled you. 

Compared to me who was seized by fear, Rustica was all smiles and light. 

He moved forward, blocking me from the man as if he were protecting me. 

Rustica: We only came here to deliver you this forgotten item. This is yours, correct? 

???: Shut it! It’s not mine! Get the hell out of here!

He swung the palette knife around as he yelled,

arm hitting the easel by him and pushing it over. At the same time, the cloth draping over the canvas dropped to the ground,

and the massive artwork lay bare before our eyes. What was painted on its surface was a portrait, one that took us by surprise. 

Heathcliff: This is…

Mithra: Hrmm. I believe I’ve seen this before…or not. What is this? 

Painted in dark reds was a deformed face of a human that resembled a collage, with geometric shapes and patterns. 

It had a misty texture to it, and its technique of layering thick strokes of paint were exactly like the painting we saw before. 

Akira: (There’s no doubt about it…)

This was the person behind the forgeries of Pict’s work. Everyone came to the same conclusion.

Akira: (To think of all the places where the forger could hide, it’d be the museum itself…)

Lying beneath the window was a large black cloth, likely used to block the window so those outside couldn’t see in. 

Rustica: …

Mithra: Did you draw this?

He held a painting of a red bird in his hands, causing the man to flinch.

???: Don’t look, don’t touch it! That’s…ah, these are paintings that the resurrected Pict gave to me!

He really is alive again! Believe me!

He probably realized that we must have figured out the truth. 

He shook with desperation, trying to convince us still. Yet we could only look at him with pity. 

Except for one.

Rustica: It’s lovely to meet you, sir. My name is Rustica Ferch. 

It’s like a dream come true to be meeting one of my favourite artists. 

Akira: (Favourite artist?)

Not letting a moment of doubt in, Rustica continued. 

Rustica: There are no words I can think of that can express the joy I am feeling right now. I feel gratitude to the entire world. 

The man widened his eyes at his words. He was at a loss for words, sunken eyes trembling. 

Rustica: I am a fan of your artwork, sir. The first time I saw this painting my heart was stolen by it.

With a snap of his fingers a canvas appeared in his hands. 

Akira: (Isn’t that…)

The painting Rustica had bought the moment we arrived in town. He gazed with affection upon the signatureless artwork. 

Rustica: This is your work, is it not? A piece that only you could create, with your own artstyle.

Nervously, I asked Rustica a question.

Akira: Rustica, is that painting really his…?

Rustica: Indeed it is. If you observe carefully, you can spot how the expressions of all those paintings on display in the gallery change according to the angle of the lighting. As is the same for this one here. 

???: !

Rustica: By that reaction, I assume your lighting tricks weren't on purpose, but a habit of yours?

Well, my beloved artist. Won’t you tell me your name?

The man held his head down, hesitating on answering, until he opened his mouth a bit. 

Artem: It’s…Artem.

Rustica: Artem, I see. What a beautiful name. Like I mentioned before, I am a fan of your art,

to the point I would buy it and take it home at first glance. 

Following Rustica, Mitile mustered up his courage and spoke.

Mitile: Me too! I thought it was a beautiful painting as well. The painting Mister Rustica bought, and the paintings on display at the museum too…

His words stopped. He began to look at Artem with a sad expression.

Mitile: …Mister Artem, you used Pict’s name and painted all those works at the museum, didn’t you.

Why did you do that?

I could understand Mitile’s feelings, of his love for Artem’s artwork, and his struggle of accepting the painted forgeries. 

Artem: …

The grip on the palette knife had loosened in Artem’s hands, dangling from his fingers. They were slightly trembling.

Artem: I didn’t think it would gain this much popularity…so big and important…

Aggression was lost in that thin voice of his, turning into regret and guilt.

The younger wizards who at first guarded, began to look at him, and the art he drew, with forgiveness in their eyes.

Artem: …For the museum, and its curator, I wanted to do at least something…if someone like me could be of help, I…

Rustica: Mm…you are a very kind person indeed.

And a wonderful artist, to be able to imitate Pict’s art so well. 

Those paintings at the gallery were made from your exceptional technique, observational skills, and your love for Pict’s art. 

I wish you would value yourself and your artwork more. 

Artem’s eyes shut tight, and with all his courage he began to talk about himself.

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Renaissance of Muses for the Maestro Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Artem: I was originally a portrait artist. I’d paint portraits of tourists, but it was only enough to put food on the table for the day. 

‘Cept one day, a miracle happened. There was someone who bought my art for a high price, calling it splendid work. 

And to his surprise, that person introduced himself as the museum curator, the owner of the one and only museum in the land that carries the famous Pict’s artworks. 

The curator would often invite Artem over to the gallery after hours in secret.

Artem: All ‘cuz he knew I was a fan of Pict’s artwork too. I’ve learned a great deal from the artworks at this gallery.

So when the Great Calamity wrecked town and Pict’s artworks, I was devastated. 

He put his hand to his heart, and I could hear him whisper the word ‘But’...

Artem: I started thinking of ideas to help the curator. I wanted to be there for the only person who’s ever appreciated my art. 

…So I thought about restoring Pict’s art, and told the curator ‘bout it. 

“Painted by the Undead!” was a headline sure to catch enough eyes and bring life to the museum again.

Using the people’s curiosity for the unknown, even one person could gather many customers, he figured. 

Riquet: So it was you who made the plan to lie to others…

Artem nodded at his words, drooping his head low and resting it on the wall.

Artem: Never thought it’d blow up, spread out to the entire country. Everyone in town honestly believed it was Pict who painted those works.

Knew I’d be found out eventually, though. ‘Cept at some point, I began feeling overconfident. 

Kept saying to myself, “You’re still good.”, “No one’s gonna find out.”, ‘n such.

Then when I went 'n bought some art supplies and hit the diner for a meal on my way back, I saw you folks unraveling the truth right next to me. 

I think back to the moment at the diner where we discussed whether those paintings of Pict’s were forgeries or not.

Artem: Hearing that, the only thing that went through my mind was to run away. Didn’t know what else to do.

As he finished his sentence, we heard the sound of footsteps running up the stairs. Someone was coming straight to this room. 

Curator: W-What is that mess back there! Why, is the door…?

The silvers in the museum curator’s hair were ruffled, and he was gasping for air. Seeing the broken door he must have realized what was going on and ran up in a hurry. 

Mithra: I broke it.

Snow: Apologies for the blunder. We’ll fix it for you later…

Curator: T-That’s not the point! Why are there outsiders here?!

Artem: …Sir, I told these people everything. About Pict…all of it.

Curator: What…!?

Artem: I’m sorry for not asking you first. I just couldn’t go on with this.

And with that, a heavy silence fell over the room. The curator closed his eyes in thought, creating a crease between his eyebrows.

Curator: Is that so…

He took a deep, long, breath. Awash with fatigue the curator still found a way to bring his feet across the floor to Artem.

Curator: …I too was thinking it was time. Let’s put an end to this, Artem.

I was so lost in the desire to revive the museum that I took your kindness for granted,

and as a result you were trapped in this room and made to suffer alone…I am so deeply sorry, my friend. 

The museum curator and Artem together learned the feelings of guilt from displaying counterfeit works of art.

The story of a resurrected artist’s paintings spread so far and wide it eventually grew to a point where they could not bear to continue it any longer. 

And it was their feelings for each other that helped them bring it to a stop finally. 

Rustica: …

Akira: (I wish I knew what he was thinking about…)

As usual, his smile was ever bright. His will to be everkind and gentle could never be fathomed. 

All I could understand was how he held that small painting in his hands so carefully, the same way a parent bird would wrap feathers around their chick, with pure love and affection.

Heathcliff: …What will happen to the museum now...

He stood beside me as he muttered those few words.

Riquet: I believe that it is wrong to deceive others and tell lies…however…

Mitile: If Mister Artem’s art disappears from the museum, so will the visitors…

Akira: Y-Yeah…it probably wouldn’t stay the same…

The two young wizards frowned with worry.

Curator: Thank you for worrying about us. We’ll be okay.

I know I should have given up the moment Pict’s paintings burnt to cinders. 

Yet I couldn’t bring myself to let go…if only I had done that, we wouldn’t have had to deceive anyone, and I wouldn’t have had to cause Artem any suffering. 

Mithra: About those cinders, do you still have them? If so, bring them over. 

Curator: Huh?

Everyone was confused by Mithra’s sudden and bizarre comment. 

Curator: I do, but…what would you need them for?

Mithra: Chop chop and get to it. Or do you want to become cinders as well?

A little while after–the museum curator had returned, with a large basket in hand.

Inside was densely packed with black little bits.

Heathcliff: It’s Pict’s art…

Snow: They really are burnt to a crisp. 

Mithra: Hmmm. This is it, huh…

Arthim.

Rutile: Mithra?

Without any explanation, he chanted his spell on the spot, and a small tornado formed, stringing with it ashes and embers.

Floating in the air together the ashes spun into the shape of a canvas, its surface eroding to vibrant reds.

Curator: This can’t be…?!

It’s Pict’s “Man Embracing Seagull”…

I stared openmouthed at the canvas in front of me. It was just mere cinders a moment ago…

Rustica: Now this is truly the real Pict’s art. 

A joyful Rustica, a whirlpool of ashes swirling according to Mithra’s spell.

We all took in this sight, the miracle performing before us. 

Mitile: Amazing…this is amazing!

The ashes are transforming into art pieces…!

Like a rainbow bloomed over him after a rainy day, Mitile’s eyes sparkled, a wide smile on his face. 

Heathcliff: If we display these paintings in the gallery, the museum will get to keep its visitors. 

Riquet: This way, Artem and the museum curator won’t have to struggle anymore!

Akira: Yes! I didn’t think of using magic to return them to their former states…thank you so much, Mithra–

He snapped his fingers as I tried to thank him.

Two paintings appeared, the recently restored “Man Embracing Seagull”, and the artwork that he viewed earlier in the room–

Artem’s version of the “Man Embracing Seagull”. He lined them up side by side suspended in the air.

Mithra: …

He observed the two paintings in comparison, red hair and emerald eyes shining in the setting sunlight.

Mithra: Hey, aren’t these the same painting? What’s the difference between them?

Mithra continued restoring the burnt paintings of Pict’s and comparing them to Artem’s recreations. 

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Renaissance of Muses for the Maestro Chapter 10

Chapter 10

It seems that all Mithra wanted was to compare the forgeries of Artem and the original Pict’s art. 

I could only think of how like him that was.

And thanks to him, Pict’s artwork really did come back to life. 

Rustica: Wonderful…

I never thought I would view two genius’ works at the same time in this sort of way.

You really are amazing, Mithra!

Mithra: Yes, I am.

Artem: …I’m so stupid.

How’d I think I could pull this off? Just seeing the original you could tell straight away. I’m nothing like Pict, in technique and 'n talent. 

He dropped his shoulders, and Rustica shook his head slowly. 

Rustica: Why is it that you must compare yourself to Pict’s art?

You cannot recreate his art perfectly, because you will never be him.

Artem: Huh?!

Rustica: Likewise, Pict will never be you. Even if you two share the same techniques, you could never draw the same picture. 

I love Pict’s art, as I love your art, Artem.

Curator: …Couldn’t have said it better myself. I love their works both. 

The weariness of the curator had rekindled into vigor, eyes holding a lively shine to them. 

Curator: I want to spread their works to the world, so that more people will know of their art.

That will be my atonement and my mission, one I will dedicate my life to doing.

Rustica: Thank you, Sir. I see we are both connoisseurs of the arts. 

…Actually, since we are so in sync, might you be my wife?

Curator: Bwuh?

Akira: (Crap, I let my guard down!)

Snow: This is bad, we got to stop him!

Chloe: No Rustica, put the birdcage down!

Rustica: We finally meet, my dearly beloved. Now, into your birdcage…

Curator: W-Waaaaaugh!

Thus, our small little venture and the mystery behind the revival of Pict’s paintings came to a close with the scream of the museum curator.

Days later, we decided to go to West Country and visit the art museum again. 

We had received an invitation from the curator himself, informing us that he had changed the paintings on display, and that he would love for us to see it. 

Mithra: I want to eat that thing again, the crispy sizzler thingamajig.

Mitile: Huh? We just ate at home, and you want to eat again?

Rustica: Let’s go out for an early lunch once we’ve finished our business here. Although, it’s as busy as ever, isn’t it. 

Mitile: Oh, Rutile and Riquet went to go and greet Artem and the museum curator for us!

Akira: It’s a shame we couldn’t come with everyone. As representatives of the Magic Manor, let’s do a round of the gallery!

Mitile: Yes!

Akira: (Still, I’m surprised that Mithra agreed to come again…)

Mithra: What is it?

Akira: U-Uhm, it’s nothing!

(Did he actually foster an interest in the arts? Or is he looking to eat the ‘Crissizzle’ thing…)

Lady: Hey, is it true that those paintings of Pict’s were fakes?

Man: They supposedly were, done by a young artist named Artem. 

Lady: I can’t believe it, they really tried to pull the rug from under us!

Mitile: …So the museum curator revealed the truth to everyone…about Mister Artem’s forgeries. 

Rustica: …

The invitation the curator sent us also had a letter enclosed within.

In that letter, he told us that he had made an official announcement about who Artem was, and that he decided to display both his recreations and the original Pict’s artworks together. 

Akira: (At the time of the announcement, he apparently received a lot of backlash…)

Visitors decreased to the gallery, and unease filled their spot for a time. Until, signs of a silver lining began to show. 

The reason for that was not because of Pict’s artwork, but because of Artem’s.

Elderly Woman: You must be pulling my leg! They're like peas in a pod!

Elderly Man: That’s some skill he’s got if he can mimic to that extent. If anything, this old timer’s impressed!

Though at first he was criticized, what followed afterwards was an audience enchanted by his works, a genuine group of fans.

Artem: Oy, you’ve come!

Mitile: Mister Artem!

A face we knew popped out from the crowd of people. He ran to us, hand waving.

Rustica: Lovely to see that business is booming. I’m happy you invited us, Artem. Thank you kindly. 

Artem: What’re you saying? I’m the one who should be thanking you!

You folks put a fullstop to our wrongdoings 'n the end. 

It’s thanks to you that I’m able to draw my own art again, and hold some pride to my name!

The Sir is as busy as ever though, so let me say it in his stead. We’re grateful, truly. To all of you. 

He looked over at the museum curator, who was just like last time, surrounded by a crowd of people. 

Except instead of looking sorrowful, he had a satisfied expression on his face. I could tell that he was fulfilled, being surrounded by paintings that he loved. 

Mitile: Master Sage, this painting…

Akira: Isn’t this…?

Mitile pointed to a massively sized painting. 

It was a painting of human figures, each and every one of them with varying heights, hair colour, and age. 

Mitile: …Doesn’t this red haired person look like Mister Mithra?

Akira: Definitely looks like him to me. And…this little boy resembles Snow.

Artem: Aah, that’s you guys.

The Sage 'n their wizards. First painting I’ve ever drawn and signed my name on, right after the forgery announcement.

Akira: This is…us.

I stepped closer, and examined the painting. “One of a Kind Existence” was the title this painting bore. 

Mithra: …”One of a Kind Existence”? That’s a one too many in the painting to match with the title. 

Mitile: I think it means that each and every one of us is unique and irreplaceable. 

You know, like how Mister Artem and Pict are!

Mithra: I don’t get it. He should have named it “The Strongest Northern Wizard and Co.” or something. 

Rustica: Hmhm, that’s an interesting title too. Art is dependent on the viewer to give it meaning, which is what makes it so fun. 

I know this painting will live on for many decades and many centuries. …I delight in wondering what interpretations will be made then. 

Rustica gazed at the painting with endearment. It was as if he was looking into the far future,

as if he was watching over a seed of hope that would bloom at the far edge of eternity. 

That is what his sweet smile told me. 

END

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