Chapter 60: Three Hours Beneath the Autumn Sun
Lyria's POV
The first strokes began hesitantly.
It was almost amusing to witness.
One might imagine that fourteen noblemen, each determined to win the hand of a princess, would attack the canvas with great confidence the moment the bell rang.
That was not what happened.
For several long moments after the competition officially began, many of them simply stood before their easels as though the blank canvases had personally insulted them.
Brushes hovered uncertainly.
Palettes remained untouched.
Expressions of intense concentration settled across otherwise distinguished faces.
From my position in the old gatehouse, I watched everything unfold with quiet fascination.
Earl Hawthorne, for instance, appeared entirely at a loss.
