Game of Thrones: King of Magic

Chapter 35

Solomon. Braavos.

The Artist waited patiently for my answer while I considered what to do about the situation. Her gaze was cold and calculating, the maids looked like puppets, and the sounds from below were muffled, making the atmosphere in the room heavier with every passing second.

To be honest, I really don't know what to do. I have no idea what, how or why, and so the only available solution would be sincerity. Yes, I can always settle the matter by force, and they, like the rest of the inhabitants of this world, have nothing to counter it, but there's no point or need for that.

If every misunderstanding in the world is solved by force, it will burn in the blink of an eye. It is far easier and more reliable to act for certain for each side, and not everyone is willing to go to a trivial conversation to resolve it. It's not pride that prevents them, not at all, but the threat to their own safety.

In this situation, if I were indeed the murderer, Artist's actions would be very reasonable. Judging by her tone and wording, her mother has already made several attempts, and the woman in front of me simply has no choice but to do just that.

However, that does not change the fact that I am the injured party. Ultimately, I'm left to just go with the flow and see what happens. At the very least, there's always the option of a show of force, as shown by the Artist through her maids.

- You know, Mistress Artist, even if you don't want to believe my words, there really is a misunderstanding between us. I don't know who exactly is your mother and what the circumstances between you two are. Assuming? Yes, that's true, but are you sure? Certainly not," I said in a calm and confident tone, looking her straight in the eye, "And that's why I propose to clarify the situation as much as possible. You said yourself that you consider me a dangerous and powerful sorcerer, and that if I were really a murderer, I would have acted beforehand. That seems reasonable, doesn't it?

The answer to my logically correct one was only silence and a look full of absolute certainty that I was trying to play innocent. The artist didn't believe me one bit and was still waiting for the obvious answer.

- So we can't come to an understanding, Mrs. Artist?

- Not until you confess and name your price, Mr. Solomon.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

This is not the way to move forward. The sincerity of my words simply won't reach her mind, which means... I'll have to prove it by force.

- Do you think, Mistress Artist, is offering me power or gold enough to hire me as a simple assassin? The Red Temple and the Black and White House will gladly provide both if you just ask. Even if my stay in this city is far from long, everyone knows how much authority I hold.

- Then--

- And magic? - I tilted my head and tapped the armrest twice with my index finger.

The next moment, a wave of power spread from my body like a giant tsunami. An unrestrained wind came up, scattering food and objects and furnishings. The fabric that was attached to the ceiling and windows fluttered as if trying to break free and run as far away as possible. The clear sky outside was replaced in the blink of an eye by black clouds that formed rings and gathered over the tavern where I was.

The three maids behind Artist's back were practically blown out of their seats and gently pressed against the walls of the building. Their clothes clung tightly to their bodies, their knives embedded in stone to the hilt with no way of getting them back.

Their mistress, on the other hand, opened her eyes and mouth wide, revealing greatly dilated pupils and white teeth. Her entire body shuddered from the pressure and shaking as the couch she was sitting on slid across the floor and hit the display case, collapsing the painting supplies. Brushes flew in different directions, paint splattered across furniture, walls, and floor, and canvases and parchments opened up, wrapping themselves around the first objects in their path.