He Who Fights with Monsters 5: A LitRPG Adventure

“I convinced them that a favour today will pay dividends tomorrow. I strongly recommend that you take the same attitude.”

“If the Cabal thinks they can use him to establish their own branch of essence magicians, they’re in for disappointment.”

“That kind of ambition is above my pay grade, Mrs Tilden, but if that is their intention, then I’m confident that you’re correct. I’m simply of the opinion that Jason Asano will make a good friend and a very bad enemy.”

Anna gave a weary sigh.

“Do you know where he is now?”





16





FLAVOUR TEXT





The art gallery displayed no more signage than a plaque beside a nondescript door. It was the kind of place that if you didn’t know it was there, then you weren’t meant to. For many years, it had served as a money laundering operation for some of the Network’s shadier revenue streams. Now that the government was secretly but wholeheartedly involved in the Network’s activities, such clandestine operations were rarely necessary. The gallery was free to operate without dabbling in illegality.

Jason was strolling through, browsing the paintings. As he lingered in front of one, the gallery owner, Susan, approached. She was an elegant woman whom Jason judged to be in her late thirties or early forties. She cut an impressive figure of poise and grace, in appealing but understated attire.

“This is my wife’s favourite piece,” she said, joining him in looking over the piece. “Is there something in particular that you’re looking for?”

“I’m looking to make a very specific statement.”

“This piece is from Taverny’s ‘Seychelles Gothic’ series, where he seeks to visually recontextualise the archipelago. This is a quintessential example of Taverny’s use of framing and light contrast. If you told me what kind of statement you were looking to make, perhaps I could point you in the right direction. Only a fragment of the collection is on display, so I’m sure we can find something to fit your needs.”

“My intention is to make a potent statement on the sanctity of family,” he said. “I thought I would have more time to arrange things, but events are moving apace. Sadly, nuance must give way to blunt symbolism to make my position swift and explicit.”

“I’m not sure that the Taverny sends that message,” she said. “I have a number of works that touch on the theme of family and may interest you.”

“It doesn’t have to be depicted in the art. Show me something unconventional,” he said. “Something whose very purchase makes it worthy of discussion.”

Susan gave him an assessing look. His suit was sharp and flattering, but also slightly strange. The cut defied contemporary trends in tiny ways; a lapel angle here, a seam line there. The result gave the odd illusion of an arrow in flight. The man wearing it was young and Asian, probably mixed-race. His accent was Australian, clearly educated, but with a rural twang he had mostly eliminated. His sharp features were slightly spoiled by a too-prominent chin, but his dark, penetrating eyes were compelling.

“I might have a work that interests you,” she said. “I cannot guarantee I can sell it to you, however.”

“Oh?”

“There is an unusual condition attached to this painting.”

She led him through to an office tucked discreetly into the rear of the gallery. Upon entering, he stopped dead still, eyes transfixed on a painting. It depicted four uniquely stylised pillars situated between two planets, on a background of stars. The content arrested his attention, and while it had no trace of magic, something about it left him completely convinced that it was not the work of an ordinary artist.

“The most enigmatic piece in the collection,” Susan said. “The artist is new and critical reaction is split. Some find her subjects prosaic, while others find her brushwork almost hypnotically beautiful. The two works in our possession were sent to us only days ago, by the artist herself.”

“Who is she?”

“The artist is as mysterious as her art,” Susan said. “We know almost nothing about her, not even her full name. She simply goes by Dawn.”

“How much?”

“There is no price,” Susan said. “We were sent two paintings by the artist, along with a generous service fee, on the condition that this one be hung and given to the person who can name the four pillars depicted within it. Extremely unusual conditions, as you can imagine.”

“What about the other picture?”

“That one is for sale, but only to the person who claims this one. As for how anyone is meant to know the names of the pillars—”

“Jason, Colin, Gordon, Shade,” he said without hesitation, not taking his eyes from the painting.

Susan was a woman of composure but flashed a startled expression.

“That’s right,” she said. “How did you know that?”

“Because I’m the subject. Show me the other painting.”





Hiro and Taika walked out of the police station to find Vermillion waiting for them in the parking lot. They were nervous but felt none of the bone-deep fear he normally induced. Since Jason had arrived, Vermillion had shown them nothing but politeness and respect, although he remained as mysterious as ever. Hiro spoke quietly to his lawyer, who quickly made himself scarce.

“Vermillion,” Hiro greeted. “Are you responsible for getting us out? I was worried once they put me in an interrogation room, but they released us surprisingly quickly.”

“As far as the civil authorities are concerned, you were just one more victim trying to escape,” Vermillion said. “By the time anyone started recording the incident, the bikers were primarily after your nephew and yours was just one of many vehicles attacked. The lack of firearms or other contraband in your car saved many awkward questions and I barely had to step in to see things smoothly through.”

“I told you, boss,” Taika said. “Not having guns will solve more problems than having them.”

“As for less conventional authorities,” Vermillion continued, “I have convinced them to leave you be, at least for the moment. It’s Jason they want to speak to.”

“Do you know where he is?” Hiro asked. “Is he all right?”

“He’s fine,” Vermillion said. “I’ve been keeping in contact with him via unconventional means, so he knows what’s happening and he’ll meet us shortly. For now, he’s sending a car. The police are keeping yours, for the moment. Because of the bullet holes.”

“Speaking of which,” Taika said, “we need to have a talk about what happened. Why aren’t you all shot up? What was that you were saying about vampires?”

Without Vermillion’s aura pressing down on him, Taika’s exasperation about the strangeness he had been caught up in came out.

“Jason has asked that I help him explain everything to you, given that there are certain gaps in his knowledge base,” Vermillion said. “There are still things to be done first, however. I’ve rescheduled the meeting with Victor Tollman; we’ll be going there directly from here.”

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