There exists a magical device known as a Projecting Board. They were expensive enough to be far out of reach for commoners, but lords, wealthy men, and temples usually had at least one, and occasionally, the citizens of a region would pool their money to buy one.
By placing a sheet of paper on the board and supplying magic to the device, the operator could replicate anything in sight or in their mind’s eye onto the paper. It was initially built for the replication of texts, but people later found more uses for it, such as creating portraits or taking pictures of exotic scenery.
Why bring this up? Well, although I had become a hero, I had assumed it was hyperbole when told that everyone in the city had come to recognize my face in a mere two days. However, thanks to the temple taking a projection of my face using their Projecting Board and distributing copies all around town, literally everyone in town did in fact know my face.
With the throngs of happy little wannabe priest children declaring the birth of a hero, of course everyone would know about the whole hero thing, but to make matters worse, they were giving everyone my portrait. Since we were disguised, Olivia and I were also handed copies, which we looked upon with wry grins. On the front was my face, and on the back was an absurdly romanticized summary of who I was. I had to wonder, was it really okay for a temple to the Goddess of Law to stretch the truth in such a fashion? It wasn’t exactly outright lying, but I felt a little dubious about the whole thing.
“This portrait seems to be a copy of a copy. You looked much handsomer in the portrait I made of you two days ago.”
“Nah, I think this is more realistic. Honestly, I don’t think I want people
to see what I look like in the original.”
The Projecting Board was a powerful and convenient magical device, but it did not create perfect replicas, and thus when creating images of people, it tended to be subject to the operator’s biases. In more concrete terms, if one were to take a picture of someone they hated, it would tend to leave a bad impression of the subject, versus seeing the subject in person. Conversely, if one took a picture of a loved one, most especially someone they were in love with, the subject would come out far more beautiful.
Two days ago, Olivia had borrowed the device to take a portrait of me.
The portrait was exaggerated, of course. Despite it being a simple image, my features were so ridiculously beautified that the portrait nearly glowed. A little too embarrassing for me.
In my shame, I hid it inside my inventory then and there. However, it was the most flattering portrait of me, so Trabant had begged me endlessly to borrow it. Eventually, I had allowed him to make a copy, after ensuring he understood that I would keep the original.
A portrait taken directly with the Projecting Board was referred to as an original. Another image made by looking at the original and replicating it was called a copy, and a copy of that was a copy of a copy. The image degraded with each step, though a copy of a copy—like the ones being handed out around town—was detailed enough that anyone would recognize it as me.
I didn’t particularly mind, in truth. It was a touch embarrassing, but I would get over it in time. The larger issue was the long line of people before me and the reason for said line.
“Hark, one and all! Copies of copies can only capture so much, but I saw it with my own eyes! Our beloved goddess, Tria, granting her great blessing unto a solitary bride! Her radiant beauty is truly fitting of the title The Goddess’s Bride!”
Right next to the temple-run clinic, a crowd of citizens—mostly men—
had lined up in front of a table with a stack of papers on it, for some reason.
A woman shouted her sales pitch at the crowd. Actually, on closer inspection, the woman in question appeared to be the priestess with whom Trabant had been dancing yesterday. Didn’t she have work to do? Or was it a priestess’s job to sell portraits of Olivia?
You’re probably wondering where the portrait came from. Well, you see, I also made a portrait of Olivia with the device two days ago. I was feeling
devilish, so I visualized her naked body in my mind’s eye and made the projection. She grabbed my ear and yanked when she caught a glance of the portrait, so then I made a proper portrait the next time.
I want to reiterate that, even when the operator was trying to take a normal portrait, love had a way of finding its way into such things, and strangers would often see a beautified portrait. Needless to say, I loved Olivia from the bottom of my heart, so when the priests saw it, she was so lovely that they couldn’t help but blush. Though I was inclined to think that perhaps that happened because Olivia truly was the most outrageously beautiful girl in the world, such that even a photograph, so inferior to the reality of her, was enough to make men’s hearts race.
I kept the original, of course, and I had no plans of showing it to anyone.
I did, however, give away one copy, with the expectation that it would be distributed as a set along with my portrait. Trabant created copies of copies of both of us for that purpose, but the temple’s treasurers soon put the screws to him, yelling “Paper isn’t cheap! Give out the hero if you want, but we need to sell these portraits of Lady Olivia!”
The fact that it only took an hour after I gave them the copy to start selling Olivia’s portrait was just sad. But in the end, it was just paper, and the temple was stretched pretty thin between orphanages, clinics, and other charitable activities, so I understood that they needed funds.
“It really is a good thing we disguised ourselves. I can’t imagine what would have happened if we’d walked around normally.”
Olivia had directly received the goddess’s blessing, so there was no stopping the whole city from knowing her face as well. However, all the attention would only inspire fear in Olivia. The illusion magic had been a good decision.
“Dear husband, right now I am yet afraid, but some day, some day, I hope we can walk together through the city without hiding our faces. I want to go on a date with you as I am.”
Despite their paying no attention on Olivia, the throng of men exerted its pressure on her. Her hand quivered faintly in mine. I kept quiet, gave her hand a squeeze, and continued through the city.
“There’s no rush, Olivia. I’ll always be here, by your side. One day…
Any time you want, really, we can go out on another date, with no disguises except for some cute makeup on you.”
“Thank you! I… I’ll do what I can!”