My Anime Shopping Tree & My Cold Prodigy Wife!
Episode : 56

Chapter : 111

The silence stretched, thick with confusion. People stared, trying to reconcile what they were seeing with their understanding of 'art'. It lacked the familiar emotional cues, the traditional subject matter. Yet… the skill was undeniable. The realism within its own alien context was breathtaking. The woman looked like she could step off the paper, her suit humming with contained power. She looked… real. Trapped in a black and white world, perhaps, but undeniably, vividly real in a way Faria's softer portrait, for all its beauty, wasn't.

Faria Kruts herself stared at Lloyd’s drawing, her mouth slightly open again, the confident smirk completely gone, replaced by wide-eyed, utter shock. Her competitive fire seemed extinguished, doused by a wave of sheer, unadulterated artistic bewilderment. She recognized the theme – strength, protection, grace – but rendered in a visual language she had never encountered. The technique… the precision… the design… it was unlike anything taught in any academy, unlike any style known in the Southern Marquisate or beyond. It was stark, perhaps cold to her sensibilities, yet undeniably powerful, possessing a strange, futuristic beauty all its own.

What… what is this? Her mind struggled to categorize it. It’s not Realism… not Impressionism… it’s… something else entirely. She looked from the drawing to Lloyd, who stood calmly beside his easel, watching the crowd's reaction with that faint, unreadable smile. He hadn't lied about having a foundation. But the foundation wasn't in any school she recognized. It was something… alien. Advanced. Utterly unexpected.

The crowd remained silent, grappling with the image. No applause this time. Just a heavy, thoughtful quiet, punctuated by murmured questions. "What is that armor?" "Is she… flying?" "Look at the detail on the weapon…" "It feels so… real, but… strange."

Lloyd hadn't won in the conventional sense. He hadn't proven mastery of Riverian art theory. But he hadn't lost either. He had sidestepped the trap, refused to play Faria's game by her rules, and instead presented something so unexpected, so technically brilliant in its own right, that it defied easy judgment, leaving his challenger and the entire Guild Hall utterly speechless, wrestling with a concept of 'art' they hadn't known existed five minutes earlier. He hadn't proven he remembered their conversation, but he had proven, unequivocally, that he possessed skill. Skill of a profoundly different, perhaps even unsettling, kind.

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The silence in the Guild Hall stretched, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the shuffling of feet and low, bewildered murmurs. The initial surge of admiration for Faria’s classical portrait had been completely overshadowed by the stark, baffling brilliance of Lloyd’s technical drawing. The crowd wasn’t cheering; they were processing. Trying to reconcile the familiar beauty of Faria's work with the alien precision and futuristic power emanating from Lloyd’s graphite rendering.

Faria Kruts stood frozen before Lloyd’s easel, her earlier competitive fire seemingly extinguished, replaced by a profound, almost unsettling artistic shock. Her amethyst eyes traced the clean lines of the battle suit, lingered on the subtle shading that gave the metal plates depth and realism, tried to comprehend the intricate mechanics of the thrusters and the weapon. It was a visual language she didn't speak, yet she couldn't deny its power, its strange, compelling aesthetic.

Finally, she tore her gaze away from the drawing and looked directly at Lloyd. Her expression was no longer challenging or contemptuous, but filled with a complex mixture of bewilderment, grudging respect, and intense, almost overwhelming curiosity.

"I…" she began, her voice softer now, lacking its earlier sharpness, sounding almost hesitant. "I have never… never seen anything like this, Lord Ferrum." She gestured towards his drawing, shaking her head slightly as if still trying to categorize it. "The technique… the precision is astounding. Like… like the lines were etched by a machine, not drawn by hand." She paused, searching for words. "The subject… the woman within that… contraption… there's a strength there, a fierce grace, yes. It fulfills the theme, undeniably." She looked back at the drawing, fascination warring with her ingrained artistic sensibilities. "But the… the thing wrapping her? That armor? That weapon? It's… mysterious. Alien. Unlike anything forged or imagined in our lands." She finally met his eyes again, the earlier animosity completely gone, replaced by genuine, almost breathless inquiry. "What is it? What inspired such a… radical depiction?"

Chapter : 112

Lloyd felt a wave of relief wash over him, so potent it almost made his knees weak. His gamble had paid off. He hadn't won on her terms, but he hadn't lost either. He'd stunned her into silence, then into genuine artistic curiosity. He’d bypassed the trap. He offered a small, self-deprecating smile, deliberately downplaying the skill involved. "Ah, well," he began, choosing his words carefully, needing to maintain the mystery without outright lying again. "Inspiration strikes in odd ways, Lady Faria. I simply… wanted to try something different. Explore form and function in a less conventional manner, perhaps." Yeah, different, his internal monologue snorted. Like, from a different planet and eighty years in the future different. Good thing they don't have copyright lawyers here. He mentally patted himself on the back. Turns out, basic technical illustration from Earth is high-concept avant-garde art in Riverio. Who knew? The vague memory of rendering engine parts just created a masterpiece, apparently. He suppressed a chuckle at the absurdity.

But Faria wasn't laughing. She was leaning closer to his drawing again, her eyes tracing the lines with the intensity of a scholar deciphering an ancient text. "Different?" she murmured, almost to herself. "This isn't just 'different', Lord Ferrum. This is… revolutionary. The way you've used only graphite, yet achieved such depth, such realism in the metallic textures… The understanding of light, not as soft atmosphere like the Impressionists you supposedly admire," she shot him a quick, knowing glance, "but as sharp, reflected highlights defining form… And the design itself! The articulation, the implied power source… it suggests a level of technology, of engineering… it's beyond anything I've ever conceived!"

She turned back to him abruptly, her eyes blazing now, not with anger, but with a barrage of questions fired like bolts from a crossbow. "Where did you learn this technique? Is it a lost Ferrum style? Is that suit based on some ancient relic? What are those devices on her back – propulsion? And the weapon – is it energy-based? How did you achieve that sense of weight and balance with just lines? What hardness of graphite did you use for the darkest shadows versus the mid-tones? Did you use blending stumps, or rely purely on hatching and layering?"

The questions came thick and fast, a torrent of technical and artistic inquiry that left Lloyd reeling slightly. She wasn't just impressed; she was dissecting it, analyzing it, her sharp mind instantly grappling with the implications. Okay, maybe too successful, he thought, starting to feel overwhelmed. Need to change the subject before she asks me to explain the theoretical principles behind phased plasma conduits.

He held up a hand, stalling the barrage. "Whoa, Lady Faria! One question at a time!" He needed to regain control of the conversation, steer it away from his impossible drawing skills. Suddenly, a different question surfaced, one that had been nagging at him since she first appeared. "Actually," he interjected, seizing the momentary pause in her interrogation, deliberately shifting the focus entirely. "Speaking of unexpected appearances… if I might be so bold, Lady Faria, what brings you here? To the capital? And," he added, gesturing vaguely at the rough surroundings of the Guild Hall, "to this particular establishment? It seems rather… far afield from the usual social circles of the Southern Marquisate."

The abrupt change of topic clearly caught Faria off guard. She blinked, the intense artistic analysis momentarily short-circuiting. A flicker of something else – reservation? Purpose? – crossed her features before she composed herself, straightening up, the confident noblewoman replacing the excited art critic.

"My presence here is… necessary, Lord Ferrum," she replied, her tone becoming slightly more guarded, though still colored by the lingering excitement of the art discussion. "I am on a quest, of sorts."

"A quest?" Lloyd raised an eyebrow. "Adventuring? It seems… unlike your usual pursuits, if memory serves." (Which it didn't, but he figured it was a safe assumption for a Marquess's daughter known for her artistic inclinations).

A faint sigh escaped Faria’s lips, a hint of frustration entering her voice. "Not by choice, precisely. I seek a specific ingredient for my mother’s alchemist. A rare bloom – the Midnight Serenity flower." Her expression tightened slightly. "It is said to possess unique restorative properties, potentially beneficial for… certain persistent ailments." There was a subtle undertone there, a hint of worry beneath the aristocratic reserve. "Unfortunately," she continued, her voice regaining its crispness, "it grows only in one location."

"And that location is?" Lloyd prompted gently.

"Deep within the Forest of Galla," Faria stated, her amethyst eyes holding a flicker of grim determination.