“I heard you painted the portrait of my brother’s wife.” 

“Y-yes my lord,” Argus answered as he bowed before the opulent throne where Maverick, one of the twelve lords of Drear, sat lazily stroking the gray cat in his lap. 

He was a tall thin man, with sharp features and long limbs that reminded him of an insect. The cat in his lap had bright blue eyes that seemed more piercing than that of his master. Argus could feel an intensity from the pair looking him over in his cleanest set of clothes and he was suddenly self conscious of the paint stains on his boots in the midst of sparkling tile floors and velvet draped windows. 

“Very well,” Lord Maverick said as he stood, the cat climbing up to stretch across his shoulders. “I’ll see if you’re worthy of my brother’s praise. He is blind afterall.” 

Bowing his head, Argus followed the lord and tried to ignore the remark about his patron. He was no small man himself, but the lord was a full head taller than him at least, and the strange gray cat locked eyes with him as they walked. They left the imposing entry room through a side door that led down a black and white tiled hallway with brightly colored doors spaced at odd intervals on the left and large windows on the right overlooking a garden with a variety of animals. Argus had to remind himself to keep walking as he took in the incredible sight of patterned furs and brightly colored feathers he had not even dreamed were possible. 

They passed through a heavy oak door that opened up into a gallery with paintings big and small of various subjects. There were portraits of people Argus assumed were important, landscapes that felt both alien yet familiar, and still lives of cut flowers in ornate vases. The menagerie had already been an impressive display, but the gallery was something else entirely to behold. 

Lord Maverick led through an archway and into a small painting studio with easel, brushes, and pigment pots all set up. Argus stood before the blank canvas as Maverick took the cat from his shoulders and sat it on the velvet cushioned stool in front of the artist. “Paint me a portrait of Marlow. If you impress me, I have much more work for you. Fail and I’ll send you back to back to Holbeck.” 

“Yes, my lord.” Argus bowed as he reached for the brushes laid out on the small table next to the easel and Lord Maverick exited back into the gallery. The artist could feel his hands trembling and he reminded himself that he had painted the portrait of Lilliana, wife of Lord Nico. Looking at the cat, Marlow, he was suddenly reminded of the kitten that was with Lilliana when he painted her portrait, the same gray fur and deep blue eyes. 

“Do you happen to have kids,” Argus asked the cat as he relaxed and put brush to canvas.