"A what?" Khan asked when his puzzlent waned.
"A portrait, My Prince," Prince Thomas repeated. "A symbolic gesture to mark your achieved authority and the respect of your family. It’s a piece of our history, and as such it should be immortalized in canvas."
Khan genuinely couldn’t tell whether his Uncle was joking. Of all the things he could help with, that was the last one he would have thought about.
Of course, Khan could understand where Prince Thomas ca from. In the past, mainly right after the First Impact, the noble families were small enough to have a single leader.
That was due to limited power, influence, and sheer lack of people. Humankind had been on the brink of extinction back then, so its greatest forces couldn’t have been bigger than a small army, allowing for a joint leadership.
It also made sense for those relatively small forces to rely on archaic customs that could highlight their nobility. People bringing back and clinging to old values was a common occurrence during tragedies. That was a much-needed unifying trend in grim tis.
Obviously, as society redeveloped, many of those trends had been abandoned, either because they lost their purpose or were literally impossible to implent.
Apparently, tradition dictated that noble Patriarchs and Matriarchs needed portraits to symbolize their status. Surprisingly, Khan even knew what that was and could guess why. His crown and red cape sort of wielded a similar aning.
But Khan remained a man from the slums under certain aspects, so his first instincts abided by what he had learned there.
"Isn’t my image literally everywhere?" Khan wondered. "Can’t you just use a picture from the network?"
In Khan’s mind, a portrait was no different from a picture from the network. In many ways, it was more useful due to its less brittle nature. It wouldn’t even require any effort or ti while achieving the sa results.
"A portrait is a symbol of authority," Prince Thomas insisted, "Sothing all the future Nognes generation will be able to admire and worship in the future!"
"Isn’t it the sa with the network?" Khan asked. "Can’t you just print a picture or sothing? Even a hologram sounds more functional."
For all of Khan’s innate skill in understanding and welcoming alien customs, he looked unable to accept his own family’s. However, Prince Thomas was an old fox and knew exactly how to convince his Nephew.
"Of course," Prince Thomas coughed, "It would be a family portrait. The Princess and your daughter must be in it. I insist, actually, my Prince."
Liiza’s eyes lit up when those words entered her ears. Her species wasn’t big on portraits, but she knew what they were, and the idea of having a picture of her family forever stored in the Nognes’ historical records was too appealing to pass up.
"We could hang it in Baoway’s main city, my Prince," Prince Thomas suggested after spotting Liiza’s faint interest, "In one of the most walked-through areas. Everyone would be able to admire it there."
Khan truly wanted to glare at his Uncle, but sothing else claid his attention. He had imdiately understood Prince Thomas’ ga, and, glancing to his right, left him helpless before its clear victory.
It was hard to make Liiza drop her aloof face, and Prince Thomas’ words didn’t achieve that. However, Khan saw evident excitent in her eyes and even felt it through the ntal connection. That wasn’t a battle he could win. Actually, Khan had already lost it.
"What exactly do I need to do for this portrait?" Khan sighed, rolling his eyes at the cold hand that clung to his. "And how long will it take? Garret and the others might need soon."
"No need to worry, my Prince," Prince Thomas exclaid, seemingly having waited for that mont his whole life. "I’ve already contacted the artist!"
"How?" Khan asked. "Do you predict the future now?"
"A minute ago, my Prince," Prince Thomas declared, half-turning to reveal his hand on the console behind him. "Though I admit I had him ready ever since you abdicated."
Khan didn’t know what to say. He was so speechless that he spent the following minutes without uttering a single word, only playing along with Prince Thomas’ directives.
That led Khan inside one of Aynor’s surviving buildings, in a flat similar to where he had held the eting with his scientists, but rearranged for the occasion.
Soldiers had set up artificial lamps in specific locations and tinkered with the flat’s illumination so that the wall where Khan, Liiza, and Yeza stood was perfectly visible without becoming blinding.
A man wearing baggy clothes stood on the other side of the artificial lamps, peeking from behind a canvas, inspecting his surroundings and the wall in front of him to make sure everything was in the right place.
The man didn’t use paint or brushes. Instead, he wielded a short tal cane with a bright tip that radiated a specific influence that the canvas seed to react to.
The canvas itself wasn’t re paper, either. It looked to be made of a specific, resilient fabric designed to endure the passage of ti and suit that technological brush.
Clearly, that archaic practice had kept up with the passage of ti and technological innovations. Still, so problems didn’t change.
Prince Thomas was obviously in the flat, too, diating for the painter since talking directly to Khan was too much for the man. The latter even felt anxious about raising the issue with the Prince again, but the solution had yet to arrive.
"My Prince," Prince Thomas called after hearing the painter’s complaints, clearing his throat. "I wouldn’t want to disturb the little Princess, but it’s ti to pose."
Khan wanted to play along, especially since Liiza couldn’t look more excited, but their daughter didn’t want to listen to reason. Yeza was still on Khan’s head, and she knew how to fight for her domain.
"Yeza, why don’t we make it easier for your Great-Uncle?" Khan asked in a childish voice, grabbing the baby on his head. "You can stay in Papa’s arms."
Yeza looked happy until Khan began to lift her from his head. She imdiately clung to his hair and exploded into a shrill cry, which no amount of reassuring words managed to stop.
In that mont, Khan discovered how weak he truly was against his daughter. He could easily pull her down, but never did, opting to place her back on his head and reassure her instead.
"This won’t work," Khan sighed. "She loves Papa too much to let him go."
"[You are too permissive with her]," Liiza scolded in her language, clinging to Khan’s elbow. "[But that’s you, and this is our family]."
Khan exchanged a look with Liiza, reading between her words. She had implied sothing, and a smirk appeared on Khan’s face as he conveyed it to his Uncle.
"Let’s do it like this," Khan nodded. "If my daughter wants to stay on my head, she’ll pose on my head."
The painter didn’t look convinced and searched for Prince Thomas’ help, only to receive a firm nod from him, too. Customs aside, Khan was his leader, and his will was his command.
Besides, that family trio was too cute in that position to separate due to re etiquette. Khan wouldn’t be rembered for that anyway.
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