Modern Art
The streets of Waterdeep were as busy as always. A light murmur from the thousands of conversations, the “clip-clop” of horseshoes striking cobblestones, the squeaking and rolling of carriage wheels down the streets. Of course, the thing nobody says about cities is the smell. So many people in close proximity, the smell from the sewer drains, and of course the horses. Everywhere you went in Waterdeep, you could smell the horses. The smell was strong enough that the Griffon Cavalry were forbidden from flying too low, lest their mounts become frenzied by it. It was probably overwhelming for someone from a village, but Sariel had lived in cities all her life.
Where in the rest of the city, most of the population was Illuskan or Chondathan humans, the Southern Ward displayed every manner of humanoid. Calishite merchants from the Lands of Intrigue, dwarven craftsmen from Mithral Hall, Uthgardt mercenaries from the Savage Frontier, and moon elves that had probably lived in the city since before it was called Waterdeep. She even saw a dragonborn member of the City Watch. It was the most diverse part of the most diverse city in Faerûn, or so she liked to believe.
Turning onto a side road, she arrived at her destination. The townhouse was three stories tall, with the bottom floor’s walls erected from stone. A stone staircase led to the front door at the second floor, while a cellar door sat below it. Curiously though, there was a half-finished sculpture of what was probably a woman sitting in front of the house. Her arms had fallen off, and Sariel wasn’t sure if that was intentional or not. She climbed the steps to the front door, and knocked.
A male voice shouted from inside. “Coming!”
Sariel heard something drop inside, then footsteps rapidly approaching the door. A lock clicked, and the heavy oak door opened. A fair-skinned, black-haired half-elf stood before her. She clasped her hands behind her back, leaned forward, looked up at him, and smiled.
“Rynor!” She exclaimed.
He looked puzzled for a moment. “Sariel? What are you doing here?”
She nodded a reply. “Can’t a girl drop in on her friend occasionally?”
Rynor shrugged noncommittally. “I guess.” He stepped out of the way, motioning for her to step inside.
The interior of Rynor’s townhouse was much as Sariel remembered it, but with all the furniture moved to the sides of the main hall. Somehow, it was also more dusty than she remembered, with a thin coat of white dust everywhere. In the middle of the main hall stood a block of marble, with chips and chisels cut from it. A set of tools was hastily dropped next to it.
“I see you’ve, uh, redecorated.” Sariel remarked, suddenly not sure what to say.
Rynor nodded. “As you can see, I’ve recently gotten into sculpting.” He paused for effect. “My first attempt was a sculpture of you, actually, based on the painting your friend Emilia made.”
She saw the painting she had given him several months ago, hanging crooked on a wall. At the time, Rynor’s hobby was painting, and he wanted a reference.
“Alas,” he continued, “your arms fell off.”
“I saw.” She replied, now bemused with the entire situation. “So, who’s that?”
Rynor shrugged. “Some guy who paid me two thousand dragons to sculpt him.”
The amount of money took a moment to register with her. “Two thousand coins?” She exclaimed, the shock and surprise evident in her voice.
“Yes.” Rynor replied calmly. “I… may have exaggerated my abilities to him.”
Sariel raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
He sighed in reply. “Sariel, I need your help.”
She put a hand on her hip, her bemusement growing ever stronger. “With?”
Rynor walked to a nearby table, cleared some chisels and dust from it, and placed his hands palms-down.
“First, I need to get that sculpture.”
“Couldn’t you sculpt it yourself?” She inquired, tilting her head slightly as she walked over to join him.
He shook his head. “I can’t sculpt that well. Besides, I’m on a deadline.” He sighed, then continued. “I need a thousand dragons.”
Sariel was out of her bemusement and back to shock. “What? Why?”
“So I can hire a sculptor that knows what he’s doing and get him to complete the sculpture.” Rynor concluded.
“Uh, I, uh…” Sariel stammered, not finding the words to reply to that with. For one, Emmy would kill her if she spent that kind of money.
Rynor stood up straight, clapping his hands together once. “But don’t worry, I have a plan!”
Sariel buried her head in her hands. Rynor didn’t notice.
“To make your money back, we host something of a gala. I, being the city-famous sculptor I am, will auction off my incredible sculptures at inordinate prices.”
She looked back up at him. “I thought you said you couldn’t sculpt.”
Rynor grinned with excitement. “I can! I’m just not very good. But all these wealthy merchants and nobles don’t know that! I’ll convince them it’s fancy art that needs to be interpreted, and I’ll have as many dragons as I need!”
A look from her got him to reconsider his statement. “We’ll have as many dragons as we need.”
Sariel sighed. It was definitely one of the worst plans he’d come up with, but he seemed to be in trouble - and she really could never say no to a man as good looking as Rynor.
“So,” she began asking, “where do I come in?”
“That’s simple.” He said, the smile on his face drawing ever wider. “You will be my beautiful assistant, collecting ‘donations’ and encouraging people to spend more.”
“I see.” She replied. It wasn’t the most glamorous of jobs, but it was something she could do well. “I can do that.”
“Excellent!” Rynor exclaimed, surprising Sariel. “Now, all I need is that small loan, and we can get to work!”
Sariel sighed again. Emmy was going to kill her.
The first order of business had been getting the money. That had been simple, with fewer dramatics from Emmy than Sariel was expecting. She’d live, so long as the money was returned as Rynor had promised. The sculptor - the real one, who could actually sculpt - was a wizard, and accepted the commission. Finding an auction house at short notice was trickier. All of the ‘official’ auction houses were already booked out, so Sariel improvised. Between a low-cut shirt, some sweet words, and a generous donation, she was able to secure a merchant’s hall house for their use. It wasn’t as grand as a proper auction house, but perhaps that would add to Rynor’s story as an up-and-coming artist. Then there was the matter of getting the word out. This time, Sariel’s charms didn’t work, so she had to pay a broadsheet the going rate for a few days of advertisement. Finally, Rynor paid several criers to advertise his auction further. Once everything was in place, all they could do was wait. The morning of the auction was uneventful. Sariel had woken up first, woken up Rynor in bed next to her, and the two of them went over their final preparations. There was no need for any covers, so they would use their real names. It was possible someone would recognise Sariel, but she didn’t imagine that would be a big deal. Just before highsun, the first of the attendees arrived. They were a mix of merchants and nobility, along with a few guild-affiliated craftsmen. Although they weren’t the elite, they all appeared to be at least somewhat wealthy. To ensure a veneer of prestige and wealth, Sariel, scantily clad in her assistant’s costume, welcomed everyone with a smile and curtsy before collecting a ten gold entrance fee. By a quick estimate, they had made two hundred coins before the auction had even started. At highsun, it began. “Ladies and gentlemen!” Rynor exclaimed from his podium, confidence exuding from his words. “I come to you, today, as nothing but a humble artist!” Sariel closed the doors to the hall, took a deep breath, and prepared herself for her task. “As you all are the great patrons of the arts in our fair city, I beseech you for your aid!” Rynor continued, his feigned humble smile never fading. “So I may continue to sculpt these works of art for you, I ask only a small sum in return.” He paused for a moment, then half-smiled, half-smirked. “Being able to eat is also nice.” A chuckle was the audience’s reply. Sariel caught herself gazing at Rynor for a few moments too long, and had to snap herself away from him. He was just too charismatic for her own good. Rynor waited for the audience to quiet down before continuing. “Now, I shall present to you my fine art, which I have striven for many months to create with the finest care.” He took the cover from the first piece, which was a jumbled mess of stonework. “This,” he said, “can only be comprehended by the finest of intellects. It is not intended for the simple-minded.” She knew it was a rock he had just smashed with a hammer, but he was really selling it. A woman’s voice came from the crowd. “I think it represents the ephemeral nature of life, and-” Another voice, a man’s, came from elsewhere. “No, it clearly represents the trials of the mind in the face of-” Rynor interrupted them with a wave of his hand. “Its secrets can only be unlocked with the key of time. Alas, with such a difficult piece to create, I unfortunately must part with it in exchange for gold. I wish it were not the case, but the economic system we live under forces my hand.” He gave a dour look at the end to sell it. Sariel moved towards the man who had shouted before, ready for her part. The woman who had shouted earlier, shouted again. “I’ll have it for one hundred gold!” While she was waiting for the next stage, she asked around for donations. It wasn’t quite begging, but it felt like it. Still, she gave as impassioned requests as she could. Most of the attendees were receptive to her, and dropped some coins in her bowl. One particularly generous woman gave her a platinum coin. “One-fifty!” the man shouted. Sariel moved back over to him. “Two hundred!” the woman replied, and the crowd murmured loudly. The man looked hesitant. Now it was Sariel’s turn. “It’s such an incredible sculpture.” She calmly said to him, with a hint of excitement. “It took him eight weeks!” He was much taller than her, and looked down at her. She could tell when someone wasn’t looking at her face. “Did he say what the meaning behind the statue was?” He asked. There was a hint of something in his voice, but Sariel couldn’t pick out what exactly it was. She giggled softly in reply. “He did, but it was really confusing. I’m sure a smart, strong man such as yourself would know.” He paused for a moment, then looked up. “Two-fifty!” He shouted.
That evening, Sariel and Rynor sat by themselves in the empty hall house, counting out the coins of varying type they had collected. Even before they’d finished, she could tell they had more than enough to cover her loan. Rynor shifted to look at her, smirking. “You doubted me.” The accusation, accurate as it was, caught her off-guard. “No I didn’t!” She lied. He replied with a smile, then looked back at the coins. “After the loan is accounted for, you can have half.” She blinked at him. “Really?” “Sure.” He said warmly. “When people are emotional, they lose a sense of value. You have a habit of making people emotional.” She smiled, closing her eyes and tiling her head. “You know,” Rynor continued, “we have this hall for the rest of the night.” She was pretty sure she was feeling the same emotions she’d elicited in the people at the auction. Just like them, she was powerless to resist. She smirked, leaning forward. “Got any ideas for what we should do?” Rynor leaned back, smiling. “One or two.”
The first order of business had been getting the money. That had been simple, with fewer dramatics from Emmy than Sariel was expecting. She’d live, so long as the money was returned as Rynor had promised. The sculptor - the real one, who could actually sculpt - was a wizard, and accepted the commission. Finding an auction house at short notice was trickier. All of the ‘official’ auction houses were already booked out, so Sariel improvised. Between a low-cut shirt, some sweet words, and a generous donation, she was able to secure a merchant’s hall house for their use. It wasn’t as grand as a proper auction house, but perhaps that would add to Rynor’s story as an up-and-coming artist. Then there was the matter of getting the word out. This time, Sariel’s charms didn’t work, so she had to pay a broadsheet the going rate for a few days of advertisement. Finally, Rynor paid several criers to advertise his auction further. Once everything was in place, all they could do was wait. The morning of the auction was uneventful. Sariel had woken up first, woken up Rynor in bed next to her, and the two of them went over their final preparations. There was no need for any covers, so they would use their real names. It was possible someone would recognise Sariel, but she didn’t imagine that would be a big deal. Just before highsun, the first of the attendees arrived. They were a mix of merchants and nobility, along with a few guild-affiliated craftsmen. Although they weren’t the elite, they all appeared to be at least somewhat wealthy. To ensure a veneer of prestige and wealth, Sariel, scantily clad in her assistant’s costume, welcomed everyone with a smile and curtsy before collecting a ten gold entrance fee. By a quick estimate, they had made two hundred coins before the auction had even started. At highsun, it began. “Ladies and gentlemen!” Rynor exclaimed from his podium, confidence exuding from his words. “I come to you, today, as nothing but a humble artist!” Sariel closed the doors to the hall, took a deep breath, and prepared herself for her task. “As you all are the great patrons of the arts in our fair city, I beseech you for your aid!” Rynor continued, his feigned humble smile never fading. “So I may continue to sculpt these works of art for you, I ask only a small sum in return.” He paused for a moment, then half-smiled, half-smirked. “Being able to eat is also nice.” A chuckle was the audience’s reply. Sariel caught herself gazing at Rynor for a few moments too long, and had to snap herself away from him. He was just too charismatic for her own good. Rynor waited for the audience to quiet down before continuing. “Now, I shall present to you my fine art, which I have striven for many months to create with the finest care.” He took the cover from the first piece, which was a jumbled mess of stonework. “This,” he said, “can only be comprehended by the finest of intellects. It is not intended for the simple-minded.” She knew it was a rock he had just smashed with a hammer, but he was really selling it. A woman’s voice came from the crowd. “I think it represents the ephemeral nature of life, and-” Another voice, a man’s, came from elsewhere. “No, it clearly represents the trials of the mind in the face of-” Rynor interrupted them with a wave of his hand. “Its secrets can only be unlocked with the key of time. Alas, with such a difficult piece to create, I unfortunately must part with it in exchange for gold. I wish it were not the case, but the economic system we live under forces my hand.” He gave a dour look at the end to sell it. Sariel moved towards the man who had shouted before, ready for her part. The woman who had shouted earlier, shouted again. “I’ll have it for one hundred gold!” While she was waiting for the next stage, she asked around for donations. It wasn’t quite begging, but it felt like it. Still, she gave as impassioned requests as she could. Most of the attendees were receptive to her, and dropped some coins in her bowl. One particularly generous woman gave her a platinum coin. “One-fifty!” the man shouted. Sariel moved back over to him. “Two hundred!” the woman replied, and the crowd murmured loudly. The man looked hesitant. Now it was Sariel’s turn. “It’s such an incredible sculpture.” She calmly said to him, with a hint of excitement. “It took him eight weeks!” He was much taller than her, and looked down at her. She could tell when someone wasn’t looking at her face. “Did he say what the meaning behind the statue was?” He asked. There was a hint of something in his voice, but Sariel couldn’t pick out what exactly it was. She giggled softly in reply. “He did, but it was really confusing. I’m sure a smart, strong man such as yourself would know.” He paused for a moment, then looked up. “Two-fifty!” He shouted.
That evening, Sariel and Rynor sat by themselves in the empty hall house, counting out the coins of varying type they had collected. Even before they’d finished, she could tell they had more than enough to cover her loan. Rynor shifted to look at her, smirking. “You doubted me.” The accusation, accurate as it was, caught her off-guard. “No I didn’t!” She lied. He replied with a smile, then looked back at the coins. “After the loan is accounted for, you can have half.” She blinked at him. “Really?” “Sure.” He said warmly. “When people are emotional, they lose a sense of value. You have a habit of making people emotional.” She smiled, closing her eyes and tiling her head. “You know,” Rynor continued, “we have this hall for the rest of the night.” She was pretty sure she was feeling the same emotions she’d elicited in the people at the auction. Just like them, she was powerless to resist. She smirked, leaning forward. “Got any ideas for what we should do?” Rynor leaned back, smiling. “One or two.”
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