Game of Thrones: King of Magic

Chapter 37

Solomon. Braavos.

As I sat in the same chair I had occupied at the beginning of my visit, reading a slim book on the history of Braavos, I watched the Artist, who was currently painting what seemed to be her third painting with a fierce and furious brushstroke. Her face expressed nothing but extreme displeasure and anger, while her eyes remained fixed on the canvas and the maids swarmed around her anxiously.

And there was something amusing about the whole scene, which made me see a slight cheerful smile on my face. Painter's jaws were chewing bread furiously. The same one I preferred to buy, baked in the bakery she owned.

As soon as she was done with the next piece, the maids instantly brought out a not so whole bread, which in shape and size resembled its ancient Roman counterpart. The artist, not shy, or rather, completely ignoring me, practically tore off the next portion and began to chew, without interrupting her work for a second.

As it turned out, there was a kind of hiding place, located in one of the walls, from where, in fact, one of the Artist's maids got the bread. However, nothing unexpected, since this tavern is her domain, and there may be more such hiding places.

When the girls woke up, the first thing they did was look around and assume that everything was a dream. However, when my figure caught their eyes, I could naturally see the expression on their faces instantly change from relieved and relaxed to angry and disgruntled.

The painter even started to look for her brush to attack again. However, she changed her mind rather quickly and started doing what she was doing now. And the Handmaids had nothing to do but meekly help their Mistress blow off some steam.

- How long are you going to sulk, Mistress Painter? - I asked cheerfully, to which I heard gnashing of teeth - Just so you know, I have plenty of time, even if you plan to rape the canvas and brush all night.

- Why don't you get the hell out of here, Mr. Solomon?

- But I haven't gotten my painting yet. - I laughed.

- Take any of them, all of them, and then get the hell out of my tavern. Or better yet, out of Essos, too.

Hmmm... If that's the way she feels....

- Unfortunately, I don't feel like doing that just yet. Now, if you would be so kind as to take the couch across from me," I said, infusing the last words with magic. The tattoos on the Artist's body flashed with golden light for a moment, and even if her mind didn't give the command, it moved and did as I asked.

Their operating principle is similar to Command Spells. It allows their wielder to give an unquestioned order, which the Servant will follow even if it doesn't want to. Of course, they can be resisted, depending on the target's willpower or resistance to magic, but in this case, the target, namely the Artist, does not have such characteristics.

In addition to giving the order, I added a tracking function to always know where she is, but no more. Being a full-fledged stalker disgusts me, so I limited myself to just that.

Of course, the Artist herself got something too. And that goes for Command Spells as well. There is a bond between the Master who has them and the Servant they affect. Through it, the former transfers his mana to the latter, supporting or enhancing him. In this case it is analogous.

The artist has amazing control over the mana in her body and is already an outstanding magician who could match even John if she had magical training. However, thanks to her tattoos, her reserves have grown. She doesn't notice it now, but when time passes, when her body adapts to the new amount of mana... She won't be a servant, of course, but she will definitely be able to put up some fight.