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CHAPTER 16
Bennett spent the rest of the afternoon showing me as much of Vesper as he possibly could, and we weren’t even close to covering the whole kingdom. We traveled down cobblestoned roads, passing by little villages and different shops and pubs. All kinds of people, young and old, approached Bennett as we strolled through the kingdom. They greeted him and thanked him, which was a little odd, but I guess Vesper was one of those places where everyone knew everyone.
Bennett took me on a gondola down the canal to the Artem Square, which held the four factions of people that I was admiring from above on the mountain. He took me to the artists quarter first, and I lost track of time with the painters, admiring their work. The artists quarter was a vast open space, taking up the majority of the street. Clothing lines stretched overhead, but instead of linens being hung up, a variety of paintings were put up in their place to dry. The artists wore dirty aprons with paint coating their hands, and each one had a smile etched onto their face. Eventually, a young woman with sleek black hair pulled me over to her station and encouraged me to try for myself. I politely declined, but once Bennett started to push me to give it a shot, I finally caved. The woman showed me some brush stroke techniques and how to blend different colors. Bennett found a stool and an easel and pulled up right next to me, practicing some techniques of his own.
Not long after, the other artists in the square built up quite the crowd behind us, watching us paint. I had no idea why they were so interested in our artwork, but their stares made me nervous, and my lines turned out all bumpy. I took a deep breath, trying to just focus on the brush strokes and the need to create something beautiful. Once I was finished with my work, I picked up the canvas and showed it to Bennett with a proud smile
He looked impressed, and his eyes lit up as he said, “That’s a great spider, Rhia!”
My smile instantly dropped, my pride falling with it. “It’s supposed to be a flower, Bennett.”
The artists gathered around us chuckled and my cheeks flushed. I laughed along with them, even though it was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. That was all the confirmation I needed to never take up painting as a side hobby.
After we hung up our paintings to dry, we bid the painters farewell and thanked them for all of their help. We stopped by the thespian quarter next, which held a large outdoor theater, big enough to seat thousands. The theater was carved out of stone, and just behind the stage lay a vast body of water, making it all the more majestic. I was disappointed I didn’t get to see the actors perform, but Bennett promised me he would take me to see a show with him one day. The idea kept a smile on my face for the rest of the afternoon, with the thought of getting to come back here someday and that Bennett would be the one accompanying me.
We strolled past the musicians quarter, listening to the symphony of melodies that seemed to never end, but also never get old. The orchestra played notes that I could practically feel in my bones and the music flowed through my veins and straight to my heart, which beat to the rhythm of the song. The musicians sat on an elevated surface, similar to a gazebo, and Vespens young and old had gathered around to listen. I wanted to stay longer and wait until the musicians finished with their concert, but Bennett forced me along, continuously explaining to me that we didn’t have the time to stay and that he was dying for me to see the final faction of the Artem Square.
The last quarter contained a large, sprawling courtyard. People sat on multi-colored blankets around the lush area, eating cheeses and fruits, and sipping on white wine. Many of them were in conversation with one another, but some were silently accompanying themselves, peacefully soaking in the afternoon sun. Almost all of them either had a book to read or some kind of journal they were writing in.
Bennett gave me a look that showed me he was most excited about this one. “Welcome to the story quarter. Here is where writers and readers come together to share their creativity and create worlds on parchment.”
As I took in the scene around me, I began to hear that the people gathered here were sharing poetry with each other or asking advice on how they should organize their thoughts in a certain aspect of the story they were writing. The field was large, stretching toward the horizon, with green grass and a bubbling stream running along one side. Sporadic trees provided shade to many of the Vespens resting.
My eyes lit up with joy. “I was wondering what this place was!”
He smiled at me. “I figured you would like it.”
“Well, obviously,” I scoffed playfully. “These are my people.”
Bennett rolled his eyes. “Then go be with them.” He gestured to the blankets on the field. “I’m sure most of them have read the books you fantasize about and would be more than happy to discuss them with you.”
I hesitated. Part of me was so excited to be with other readers who shared a love of escapism, but the other part of me didn’t want to leave Bennett.
As if he read my mind, he said, “I’ll be fine, Rhia. There is something I need to check on while I’m here, anyway. Enjoy yourself, and maybe you can get some inspiration to pick up writing again.”
When Bennett first taught me to write, I fell in love with it. I would write any and everything and had a special love for poetry, although none of my poems were actually ever any good. I was surprised he remembered that.
He laid a hand on my lower back, leaning in and saying, “I’ll be back to get you in an hour.”
He left me stranded there, surrounded by a group of people I had never met before without so much as a second thought. Almost as if Bennett knew I would feel right at home, and I did. I really did.
???
Tears brimmed the rims of my eyes as I listened to yet another heart-wrenching poem that made me over-analyze my life in the most satisfying way possible.
“That was absolutely beautiful,” I said, entirely honest.
The woman on the blanket invited me to sit with her as soon as Bennett left. Her welcoming spirit drew me in as I sat on the knitted blanket, listening to her creative works. She was middle-aged with dark hair that held silver streaks. She introduced herself as Ora, and her voice was warm and soothing. It was something I could fall asleep listening to.
“You are absolutely beautiful!” Ora said sincerely.
I blushed at her kindness, not being one who typically accepted compliments. “Thank you. How long have you been writing?”
“Not long, actually! Although, I wish I had started when I was your age. I only began just a couple years ago. Do you enjoy writing, or simply listening?”
“Both, I guess. I used to write all the time when I was younger, and then I had to start prioritizing something else.” Basically meaning I had to learn how to become an assassin and hide my identity as I killed members of the Red Bones. “So, I ended up not really having the time.”
“Well, are you prioritizing what you love?”
