The King's Artist

Ch 1: Working Struggels

The town was gossiping, as usual, the moment the doors of various shops and restaurants opened for business. The sun was barely over the horizon, and already the townspeople were bustling with work, successfully and quickly bringing the market to life. The women were the first to stop at the bakery for fresh loaves of bread while the children hurried to the harbor to buy newly caught fish with money given to them by their mothers. There were few men present in the market aside from the ones trading goods. The others had set off to the mines before the sun had even risen to begin a long day of digging for coal, lead, and tin.

Adelaide, too, was already moving and setting up shop long before the other traders. However, in retrospect, her area didn't require much work. Without a stand or a canopy like others, Adelaide had to settle for the ground and a thin, warm blanket with several holes. Her artwork was perched around her like a cocoon. Her most excellent work laid in front of her while the largest pictures she had painted were propped on the wall that she, too, leaned against. It was turning out to be already an unbearably warm day with sweat dripping down her back making her clothing cling to her back uncomfortably. Adelaide's hair, at least, was out of the way as it sat pinned on top of her head with a spare paintbrush.

As much as Adelaide hated haggling people for money, it was the only way to obtain a decent meal. Adelaide shouted any witty remark she could think of as people passed her while making sure her work was on full display. However, the morning grew to evening and the evening bleeds into the night, and Adelaide still had only managed to sell a few of the smaller paintings she had done. By the time the market was empty, Adelaide was starved and forced to accept the fact that she was going to have to carry all her stuff back to the hole in the ground that she lived in. It had been enough of a hassle carrying it down in the first place.

With a heavy sigh, Adelaide began packing up herself.  Despite her frustration, she handled every piece of artwork with delicate care, ensuring no damaged came to the frame or canvas.  She stopped sorting, however, when a pair of shoes appeared nearly under her nose.  Startled, Adelaide's head snapped up to see the old crone Helen smugly staring down at her. Helen's child was poised on her hip already sleeping snuggly in the crook of his mother's arm.

"Another poor day?" Helen asked, lacking a certain degree of sympathy to her tone of voice.  Adelaide rolled her eyes before resuming her work and arranging the pictures in a stack that she was going to tie together with a thin, strip of rope that was itchy to the touch.

"What do you want, Helen?" Adelaide asked in return. She, too, didn't bother adding pleasantries to her voice.

"Oh, nothing in particular," Helen said with a grin. "Just wanted to come and enjoy your failure once again. I would say it's commendable what you're doing if it wasn't so pathetic. You do realize that no matter how hard you try, you'll never make anything of yourself, right?"

Adelaide's hands stopped adjusting the knot on the rope as she looked up to glare at Helen. Helen's smirk was nauseating to behold. She readjusted her hold on her baby while tossing her coarse, knotted hair over her shoulder. Adelaide's lips pressed into a thin line, bleaching the rosy color from them until they were a painfully, stark white.

"My paintings are good," Adelaide whispered with as much defiance as she could muster. Helen's laugh was ear-splitting.

"And?" She said through giggles. "Whether your artwork is good or bad doesn't matter. No one's going to buy them because a female is the one who made them. It's as simple as that. You should know the role you're supposed to play, Adelaide. Just hurry up and drop this stupid hobby of yours, get married, and raise a family." Helen's expression grew serious. "There's nothing wrong with being like everyone else."

Helen left before Adelaide managed to mumble back a response. With a heavy sigh, Adelaide leaned against the wall, shutting her eyes tight trying to fight back the stubborn tears that were threatening to spill.

"Are you okay?" Adelaide's eyes slowly opened to see a blurry image of Marian who was kneeling in front of her with her arms wrapped around her legs and a concerned looks plastered onto her doll-like features. Adelaide smiled at the familiar face and hoisted herself off the wall while wiping off the dirt from her skirt.

"I'm fine," Adelaide said with a forced smile as she hauled the paintings onto her back. Marian returned the smile, although hers was much prettier in retrospect, and grabbed a few of the extra paintings that were too small to tie together with the others. "Helen has always been irritating and obnoxious, so I'm not sure why I'm letting her words get to me."

Marian was silent as they walked. It wasn't a long trip before the two girls arrived back at Adelaide's place. It was less of a home and more of a run-down shack. The floorboards creaked with every step, and there was barely enough light to move around comfortably. It was a single room that housed a thin cot resting on hay, a table with two worn chairs, of course, Adelaide's painting equipment, and then a makeshift kitchen that needed a serious cleaning. The fireplace was overrun with ash, and Marian quickly gave up trying to start a fire. Adelaide had already gotten most of the candles lit by the time Marian was done attempting to clean. With a heavy sigh, Marian unloaded some cheese, a loaf of bread, and a bottle of water from a sack she brought and handed them to a mouth-watering Adelaide. With a quick thank you, Adelaide immediately began digging into the food with a rabid, hunger than Marian instantly stepped away from.

"Adelaide," Marian began in a nervous, but worried tone of voice. "Is this really how you want to live your life?"

Adelaide paused mid-bite and looked up at Marian with a confused expression. Marian sighed again and took the seat opposite of Adelaide. Marian rubbed the side of her temple before looking Adelaide directing in the eyes.

"I know you dislike Helen, I do too, but despite that, she has a point." Adelaide looked at her long-time friend as if she'd just been slapped. Marian seemed to realize her mistake and began stuttering as she attempted to explain. "I just mean, she's right that you can't make a living this way. You're barely fourteen, and you struggle to feed yourself on a regular basis. Not to mention you live alone. If it wasn't for the town, you live in and the people who have cared for you in place of your parents, you'd be dead already."

Adelaide's jaw felt locked in place. The bread suddenly tasted stale in her mouth, and she downed water in hopes of clearing it away. Adelaide set the food down in front of her and stared darkly at Marian who wasn't looking to retract her statement.

"Why can't I just do the thing I love?" Adelaide asked in anger. "I'm not hurting anyone, so why can't I paint?"

"Because it's impractical," Marian said desperately. "Nobody is saying you can't paint, Adelaide, but you can't live off painting. Though rude in the way she said it, Helen's right. People won't pay large sums of money for a painting done by a woman. The town wants to help, but there's only so much we can do for you."

"But I don't want to stop painting," Adelaide whispered. Marian sighed in frustration and slammed her hands down in front of Adelaide. They were chalk white and crusty in appearance with several cuts and scars.

"Do you think I want to work everyday sowing until my hands bleed and they're too stiff to move?" Marian shouted in frustration. Adelaide blinked in surprise at the sudden outburst. "Of course I don't! There are so many other things I want to do, but I also have to consider what's the best option for me. I do this work because I can buy food and clothing for you, not because I like it. Adelaide, you need to start growing up and realizing you can't survive off hopes and dreams."

Without another word, Marian turned and left the small hut without looking back. Adelaide stared down at the leftover food and clenched her hands in frustration. Painful tears pricked at her eyes. With a slow movement, Adelaide finished off the rest of the food that Marian had brought, though somewhat bitterly.

Adelaide got to her feet and made her way over to a mirror she had hanging over her bed. It was in poor condition with numerous cracks and gave a somewhat cloudy reflection. Adelaide's hand rose to grab the paintbrush from her hair and with a quick yank, blonde curls flooded around her face. Her blue eyes landed on the pair of scissors that laid on the kitchen counter. With a deep breath in, Adelaide reached for them.

If she wasn't going to be able to sell her paintings as a woman, she'd just have to do it some other way.