We Enter Through the Front Gate

"I haven't been here in a long time, Lydia. Your painting has improved tremendously."

Vilgefortz paced through the gallery corridor, his gaze shifting from one painting to the next.

"Yes, the difference is plainly visible. The treatment of the Rixhil River's rippling details here is far more exquisite than in that previous Roaring Pontar River..."

"The lines of the cliffs on both sides are also firmer and clearer..."

"Lydia... your talent for painting is far greater than your talent for magic, even elemental magic."

Lydia van Bredevoort followed behind Vilgefortz with her hands folded over her lower abdomen.

Her white gown, soft as a cloud, lightly brushed across the marble floor.

"Vilge, you're the only one who would praise me like that." She gently shook her head.

"I'm telling the truth." Without turning back, Vilgefortz stopped before a landscape painting whose paint was still fresh.

The painting depicted a gray castle standing amid towering mountains. Eagles circled in the sky, while wisps of cloud drifted through the peaks.

"Don't mind what Akrof says," Vilgefortz said. "He's simply too old, and thus too stubborn. He refuses to tolerate anything in his familiar field that does not conform to his ideals..."

Akrof had once been Temeria's court painter and was the founder of the Akrof Oil Painting School. He excelled at portraits and recreations of historical events.

He believed that painting could only achieve a higher artistic value by recreating the solemnity of history and the gravity of portraits.

To put it bluntly, he believed the core of every painting was its people.

Landscapes could exist, but they had to serve as a backdrop for people and conceal metaphors.

"Pure landscapes contain none of humanity's emotions, ideals, love, or hatred. They are pale and barren, and cannot be called paintings."

That had