Hello!

As mentioned in the description, this fic was written as part of the FE Rally for Gaza campaign, where people receive gifts from some amazing creators in the FE fandom in exchange for donations to support the people of Gaza. If you want to learn more or potentially donate, the campaign is running until April 17th! And if you want me to write something for you, you can find more information on the campaign's Carrd and find my donation minimums under 'September' in the reward redemption form.

This fic was written for Vivi, who was so kind to donate, and who gave me the best prompt! I absolutely adore Marinatz, yet haven't had a good idea for a fic. I genuinely had so much fun with this (hence a longer word count), and I am so happy with how this turned out.

To Vivi: thank you so much for donating! This is for a good cause, and I'm honored you chose me to write something in exchange for a donation. It was my honor to fulfill this request for you. I hope you enjoy the fic, and seriously, once again, thank you so much. Your donation to help those in Gaza means the world to me.


The Paintings of Lord Ignatz von Edmund. Audio Guide, Track #1

Welcome to the companion audio guide for the Paintings of Lord Ignatz von Edmund, a gallery featuring the artwork of one of the continent's most esteemed and prolific artists. Due to the vast number of works created by Lord von Edmund, this audio guide will only cover a small portion of the collection. Even so, we hope you enjoy the gallery, and that you learn more about one of Fódlan's most talented painters.

Painting #78. Gazing from Afar, Imperial Year 1188.

We begin our tour of the gallery with one of Lord Ignatz's self-portraits. Despite his vast collection, the artist only painted himself a total of three times throughout his lifetime. In it, Lord Ignatz sits straight, with a deceptively simple background of the countryside that is woven together by a sea of miniature brushstrokes. The artist, who wears his recognizable round glasses, smiles shyly.

The most notable details are the contents in his hands. In his right hand, he holds a letter, with the words, My Dearest Ignatz, written in blue ink at the top. In his left hand, he holds a brooch with the symbol of House Edmund. This was one of many paintings requested by Lord Ignatz's main patron, the Lady Marianne von Edmund.

It is beyond question that Lord Ignatz's success as an artist was largely due to the unwavering support from Lady Marianne early on in his career. She was his main patron even before their eventual marriage, with their arrangement as patron and painter having begun in the final year of the Unification War.


Ignatz smiled as he reached the top steps of the parapet. After several days of fighting and traveling, the army was back at Garreg Mach, using the time between fights to recover and resupply. It was a welcome break from the war, and though Ignatz couldn't shake a worry from his mind, he took a moment to survey the sight before him.

He was on one of the walls that surrounded Garreg Mach Monastery, giving a full view of the countryside around them. Rocky ridges stretched out toward the horizon, crisscrossing between small villages—many of which had burned down in the years since the war began. Army tents and battalions dotted the half-dead fields. Though many birds had long since left in search of more peaceful areas of the continent, there was the occasional nightingale that flew up to grace Garreg Mach with its song. And best of all, the sky was bright and free of clouds, which meant one thing.

It was perfect weather for sketching.

Ignatz turned to search for a stool, something that guards tended to bring up while they were on sentry duty, when he spotted someone. Someone he had not seen that day.

"Hey, Marianne," Ignatz greeted happily.

Mariane blinked in surprise. "Oh. Hello, Ignatz. I didn't expect to see you."

Ignatz breathed in relief as he took in Marianne. She was in her usual everyday wear, a fine blue dress with long sleeves and her House's crest holding together the short cape that was draped over her shoulders. Her hair was neat and pinned back, a far cry from the messy bun she sported during their academy days, and she held herself with more confidence, too.

But there was one detail that gave Ignatz pause. There were deep eye bags under Marianne's eyes, the likes of which he hadn't seen on her in years. It was odd to see them after so long, and it immediately made Ignatz worried.

"Sorry if I startled you," Ignatz said, subconsciously readjusting the sketchbook under his arm. "I didn't see you at breakfast this morning."

"I had an early meal today. It's been a long time since we've been at the monastery, so I came up here to have my breakfast and watch the sunrise."

"Oh, I see! That sounds like a lovely morning," Ignatz said. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but… is everything alright?"

Mariane looked away. "Yes, it is."

Ignatz bit his lip.

Though it was clear that something was bothering Marianne, Ignatz knew from experience that he had to be very careful with his next words. She was the kind of woman who would prefer to shoulder her burdens by herself instead of requesting the help of others. It was part of the reason she was so compassionate, but also a reason why Ignatz worried for her. Especially when she didn't show up at breakfast.

"It's ok if it isn't," Ignatz said.

Marianne glanced over at him.

"The war's been hard. And long," Ignatz said. "Even I have my moments where I wonder if everything will be alright. It's been five years, and only now does it seem like it'll end."

"I'm sorry," Marianne said. "I didn't mean to dredge up painful emotions."

"Oh, there's no need to apologize!" Ignatz reassured. "I just wanted to say that I understand that things are difficult right now. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but in case you do… I'm here."

When Marianne didn't respond, Ignatz took it as his cue to stop pushing and leave her to her thoughts. He looked around for the set of small stools he knew were up here for when the guards were on sentry duty, and took a spot near the parapet's walls.

The following hour was spent together in a companionable quiet. Ignatz sketched away, filling his pages with more studies of the landscape before them, and Marianne gazed outward, taking in the morning air and whispering the occasional prayer under her lips. It was soothing. Calming.

"I miss the peace."

Ignatz looked up from his sketchbook. Marianne had said the words softly, almost like a confession at church, and kept her gaze fixed on the horizon.

"This place…" Marianne whispered. "It wasn't perfect before, but the animals were happy. The grass was green, the lakes were clean, and there were flowers everywhere. There were deer and foxes instead of armies. The birds were singing everywhere, at every hour of the day. The thought came to me last night and I couldn't stop thinking about it."

"I miss that peace, too," Ignatz said. "But nature will heal, Marianne. I know it."

Marianne smiled, but it was small and forced. "Yes. I suppose it will. One day."

With that, Marianne turned and headed for the staircase. Ignatz watched her go in silence.

"If only I knew what to say to her," Ignatz bemoaned once Marianne had left. "Or at least knew what I could do to make her happy. It's not like I can magically restore nature." Ignatz sighed. All I can do is paint it."

He gasped.

"That's it!" Ignatz jumped from his seat. "Of course! How didn't I think of that before?"

Ignatz took another look at the scene before him. He continued his sketching, but this time he had a particular vision in mind.

He only hoped Marianne would like it.


The Paintings of Lord Ignatz von Edmund. Audio Guide, Track #2

The first publicly viewed painting by Lord von Edmund was a landscape around Garreg Mach Monastery, Lord von Edmund's alma mater and an important location during the Unification War.

Painting #1. Sunrise at Peace, Imperial Year 1186.

This landscape is a view of the monastery. It includes the vast mountains and fields that compose the rich land around the academy, but it is not an entirely accurate representation of the time.

In 1186, Fódlan was in the final year of the Unification War. Dried fields, burnt villages, and tired soldiers were a common sight at Garreg Mach. Lord Ignatz has accurately recreated that scene on the left side of the painting, which is cloaked in light shadows. However, the right half of the painting depicts a more prosperous view of the environment. The fields are a luscious green, the villages have been rebuilt, and small animals hop across the grass. This half is illuminated by the warm rays of sunlight, which slowly stretch themselves across the land.

Since it would take many years for Fódlan to return to this level of post-war prosperity, it is inferred that the painting is a symbol of hope for the future. That no matter how devastating the war may have been, the world would recover.


"Done!" Ignatz set down his brush with a satisfied swish of the hand. "A little on the nose with the metaphor, but I really like how the composition turned out."

But just as Ignatz was about to leave his room and see if Marianne was available, a thought crossed his mind.

"Oh, but what if she'd prefer a view of the daytime instead of sunrise? Last week she said that the lakes and flowers look most beautiful when the sun is up high."

Ignatz spun around and fished out his sketchbook again. There had to be some view that would suit a daytime painting. Something in nature. Something that would shine in the sun. Something grand.

Ignatz gasped. "Lake Teutates!" He flicked through the pages of his sketchbook. "When we went, it was foggy. If I could paint it when it's shining—"

Ignatz trailed off as his eyes landed on a particular sketch.

A sketch of Marianne.

"I remember when I drew this," Ignatz said softly. "It was just after we defeated that strange beast with the sword stuck in its hide. She was smiling well into the night."

He found himself staring at that face. At her gentle eyes, her hands. The soft curve of her smile—

"Don't get distracted," Ignatz scolded himself. "You're giving her a painting! A portrait of her would be too much… Even if it would be beautiful."


The Paintings of Lord Ignatz von Edmund. Audio Guide, Track #3

Painted shortly after Sunrise at Peace, the following painting is the second entry in what is known as Lord Ignatz's "Visions of Peace" series, all of which were created in the months leading up to the end of the war.

Painting #2. Turtles Under the Sun, Imperial Year 1186.

This painting shows a vision of Lake Teutates glistening in the light of the midday sun. Dozens of Immovable Turtles, a rare species of freshwater turtles that are only found in this lake, swim across the water. It is said that these turtles descended from a magical creature called the Immovable, which Lord and Lady von Edmund bested in combat alongside their comrades in arms.

Still, the ancient creature is not attacking the turtles or birds that flitter above the glittering lake. Instead, it is sleeping peacefully on a small stone island in the middle of the lake, taking in the warm sun.


"I know, Dorte," Ignatz said as he soothed the mare. "It's hard staying still, but you're being such a wonderful horse for me. If you stay that way for just a few minutes, I'll have this done in no time."

Dorte ruffled her mane, but settled down after pounding her hoof against the ground.

Ignatz rushed to sketch Dorte as fast as possible. Marianne was currently in a magic seminar, so he only had a little while before she'd come out to take her horse out for a ride. He wanted his gift to Marianne to be a surprise, which is why he was immensely grateful when Dorte graciously stayed still. Or at least as still as a horse could get.

Once again, Ignatz was wondering if the paintings he'd created were the best he could make. Every time he thought he'd created one that was the perfect gift for Marianne, a new idea would spring to mind, and he'd make a whole new painting. Perhaps Marianne would prefer a sunset painting. Perhaps she'd prefer one of their companions on a walk through the countryside. Perhaps she'd enjoy a portrait of the sky, right when twilight was turning into dawn.

Ignatz had created them all, and now he was creating another one. One where Dorte would be the star.

"I'm sure this one will put a smile on Marianne's face," Ignatz mused aloud. "She loves you, Dorte. You've been her faithful companion for years. I'm sure you love her in return. Her patience, her kindness, her selflessness. I mean, how could you not adore her?"

As Ignatz babbled on, his hand moved on its own accord. It glided across the page, and by the time Ignatz realized what he was drawing, he nearly dropped his sketchbook.

Without realizing it, he'd drawn Marianne again.

Ignatz stared at the drawing for a moment. He didn't even realize how it had come to him. All he did was think about Mariane and, somehow, he created this. He saw… her.

Dorte let out a loud whinny.

Ignatz jumped. "S-Sorry, Dorte. I… must've gotten distracted."

Dorte peered over and looked down at the drawing of Marianne. She let out a lower sound, which was softer. Almost fond.

"You recognize her, huh?" Ignatz gazed at the drawing again. "But you're right, Dorte. I should probably finish what I started. Now, if you look toward the doorway until I'm done, I'll give you an extra couple of carrots!"


The Paintings of Lord Ignatz von Edmund. Audio Guide, Track #4

The following is the final piece in the "Visions of Peace" set, as it is the last painting Lord Ignatz finished before giving the set to his future patron.

Painting #6. Dorte's Dream, Imperial Year 1186.

The painting shines in an array of calming dark blues and purple that compose the night sky. Littered with tiny flecks of stars, the nightscape is so bright that it illuminates the galloping mare that happily trots across a dirt pathway. The mare is Dorte, Lady von Edmund's faithful horse. Though the painting is in a realistic style, there is an ethereal quality about it. Almost as if Dorte were traveling through a mystical realm.

While many have argued that the "Visions of Peace" series was only created to gain Lady Marianne's patronage, nearly all scholars agree that patronage was not Lord Ignatz's goal when he created these paintings. While it makes sense that he'd make them to attract a potential patron, Lady Marianne's journal gives evidence to the contrary. You see, though Lord Ignatz created six landscape paintings as gifts for Lady Marianne, he was too shy to show her any of them!


Ignatz was exhausted.

They were three days away from heading out to the frontline again, and between archery practice, helping to coordinate the scouting parties, and finishing his paintings, Ignatz was surprised he even managed to close his bedroom door on the way out. He could barely keep his head straight, and when he did, he couldn't stop thinking about one thing.

"I should just give it to her today," Ignatz muttered to himself. "Oh, but which one? I have so many, and I don't even know which one she'll like!"

Ignatz picked up the pace as he walked to his room in the dormitories, wanting nothing more than to lay down on his bed and sort out his swirling thoughts before a much-needed nap.

"Maybe I should just give her the first one," Ignatz muttered. "No, that one was way too overt. Besides, I think she'd appreciate the one with Dorte better. Or what if that's too mystical for her tastes? She did say she wanted something peaceful, so maybe a more natural landscape would be better. Or—"

Or he could finish her portrait.

Despite his best efforts, Ignatz had felt himself mesmerized by his sketch of Marianne. His focus on his landscapes came and went, and, somehow, he'd begun a seventh painting.

A seventh painting he could never show Marianne.

"It's too much," Ignatz said as he approached his room. "She's too humble to want a portrait of herself. And if she found out that I was painting her—"

Ignatz let out a strangled gasp.

Maybe he had been even more exhausted than he'd thought. Because at that moment, not only did Ignatz realize he'd forgotten to shut his bedroom door, he hadn't realized it was open until he was standing right in front of it.

He was standing outside, and someone was inside.

"Oh! Ignatz!" Marianne gasped. "Oh, Goddess, forgive me."

Ignatz didn't answer. He was too mortified by the fact that Marianne was in his room, surrounded by all of his paintings.

"I'm so sorry, Ignatz." Marianne ducked her head in shame and pressed her hands to her stomach. "I saw that your door was open, and I went to close it, but then I thought I saw Dorte. I was so confused I hadn't noticed I'd entered your room until I realized I was looking at a painting. I was so amazed, and then I saw more of them, and I…"

Ignatz's cheeks burned as hot as the Valley of Torment.

"I'm so, so sorry," Marianne said, a tinge of tears in her voice. "I-I shouldn't have come here. I'll leave at once—"

"No! Don't!"

Marianne stuttered to a halt, but kept her head down.

"I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have yelled." Ignatz cleared his throat and forced himself to take a deep breath. "I mean, you don't have to go. You don't even have to apologize."

"But… I entered your room without permission."

"You were just trying to fix my mistake." Ignatz let out a nervous chuckle. "I shouldn't have left my door open in the first place."

Marianne gulped. "I… I looked at your wonderful paintings without your approval."

And without thinking, Ignatz blurted, "That's ok! These paintings are for you!"

Marianne lifted her head with a gasp.

Heat bloomed in Ignatz's cheeks. "Everything in this room… it was made for you, Marianne." He chuckled. "Maybe it was the Goddess herself who left my door open, because I've been too cowardly to give you anything."

Marianne blinked. "Everything here… was made… for me?"

Ignatz winced. "I… Got a little carried away."

Ignatz waited in nervous silence as Marianne slowly walked around the room. She took in the six landscape paintings, taking her time in looking each one up and down. She moved as if she were in a dream, taking small steps, delicately collapsing her hands in front of her chest, and whispering something low under her breath.

When she finally stopped, Ignatz gulped.

Marianne had found her portrait.

It was a mess. Ignatz had barely finished the sketching phase, and everything needed to be altered. He didn't know what to do with the background, and had even considered leaving it blank, and he was still trying to determine the best way to light Marianne's face. Out of all the paintings she could be focusing on, Ignatz had not wanted it to be this one.

"I am so sorry," Ignatz said. "I went overboard, I know, but I started painting and couldn't stop. It was like my brush had a mind of its own, and before I knew it—"

"They're beautiful."

Ignatz's mouth dropped open.

"Ignatz… your paintings…"

Marianne spun around to face him—

And suddenly, Ignatz was witnessing the most brilliant smile he had ever seen.

"They're beautiful."

…What?

"Y-You…" he stuttered. "You really think so?"

"Of course." Marianne, still smiling brightly, gazed across the collection of paintings. "Everything here is absolutely wonderful. It's how I wish Fódlan to be. How it should be. And you even painted Dorte. She looks… I don't even have the words for it."

Marianne stepped up to her unfinished portrait.

Her smile didn't wane. "I've never seen myself look this beautiful."

"I have," Ignatz said. "I see it every day."

Marianne's cheeks turned pink.

The portrait was still in its early stages. It didn't have a base layer. Ignatz hadn't even finished sketching the canvas! Even if he had finished it, Ignatz couldn't have borne the embarrassment of presenting Marianne with an unrequested portrait of herself. But if she'd already seen it, and somehow already liked it…

"Marianne. If I may be so forward, would you give me the honor of finishing this portrait of you?"


The Paintings of Lord Ignatz von Edmund. Audio Guide, Track #4

We now move on to the first of many portraits of Lord Ignatz's future wife, Lady Marianne von Edmund.

Painting #7. The Lady of the Valley, Imperial Year 1186.

Painted shortly after gifting her his "Visions of Peace" collection, this portrait was the first to be officially commissioned by Lady Marianne. In it, the future Margravine von Edmund stares out peacefully, with a delicate smile on her lips. She is in one of her favorite places, the Leicester forest, and is sitting on a chair made out of twisting branches. Lilies of the valley surround both her and her throne, as Marianne places Blutgang, her House's long-lost Heroes' Relic, on her lap.


"I hope you don't mind me adding Blutgang to the portrait," Marianne said sheepishly. "I know it must be complicated to draw. But it is part of my family's history, and now that I've found it…"

"No need to apologize!" Ignatz said. "I think it's a wonderful addition. You're kind and gentle, but fierce when you need to be. And I think it's honorable that you're honoring your House this way. I'm happy to paint it in."

Marianne's smile grew a little wider.

Ignatz grinned and focused on his canvas. Their army had stopped in the Leicester Forest on the way to the next battle, and Ignatz wanted to take advantage of every moment that they were here. It wasn't exactly easy to bring a canvas with him on a war campaign, but it was worth it to see how perfectly the light shone on Marianne's face.

Of course, Ignatz would have to use his imagination to replace the tree trunk Marianne was sitting on with the throne of branches he imagined. And he'd have to sketch more lilies of the valley to make it seem like the entire field was covered in them. And he'd probably have to spend extra time studying the many details of Blutgang, but it'd all be worth it.

If Marianne asked for it, he'd paint the entire forest for her.

"How much will this cost?" Marianne asked.

"Oh, don't worry about prices," Ignatz said as he washed his paintbrush. "Like I said before, this is a gift!"

"The landscape paintings are a gift," Marianne replied. "But this is separate. You want to become a professional artist, right?"

Ignatz shuffled nervously. "I… Yes. If I can."

"But you can't become an independent artist without clients," Marianne continued. "Or a patron. So please, let me pay you for this."

Ignatz looked at her. "Are you sure?"

"Your paintings are beautiful, Ignatz," Marianne said, and she had a look in her eye. The kind of determined look she had when having finished a hard-won battle. "I want you to continue making them. If this is how I can support you, then… I'd very much like to."


The Paintings of Lord Ignatz von Edmund. Audio Guide, Track #5

The paintings that followed were a collection of portraits and landscape pieces that were commissioned by Lady Marianne. As Lady Marianne was oftentimes occupied with the affairs of her lands after the war, she requested vistas of lands all across Fódlan, most of which were reimaginings of the continent's reconstruction efforts. Almost immediately, she became his main patron, which allowed Lord Ignatz to quickly catapult himself into fame.


In 1188, two years after the end of the Unification War, Ignatz smiled as he gazed upon the wax seal of House von Edmund.

Though Marianne had been his main patron ever since the war ended, Ignatz couldn't help but feel giddy as he fished out his letter opener. Now that Marianne was Margravine von Edmund, Ignatz truly treasured the fact that she found time in her schedule to send him frequent letters. And this one felt heavy.

Ignatz reached in and pulled out a piece of parchment, but the envelope still felt heavy. When he looked again, he saw that there was a small object. One that was very familiar.

With delicate fingers, Ignatz gently picked up the silver brooch that had been molded into the symbol of House von Edmund. It was one that Ignatz had seen Marianne wear, and one that was at least twice as expensive as the last painting she had commissioned.

"Is this my next payment?" Ignatz wondered out loud, half in shock that he was holding the brooch in his hands. "It must be a big one, but is she sure she wants to pay me with this?"

Setting the brooch on the table in front of him, Ignatz turned to the letter, and smiled at the sight of Marianne's elegant handwriting.


My Dearest Ignatz,

I am beyond happy with the last paintings you sent. Fódlan is truly recovering, isn't it? I know it will still take many years for us to return to life as it was before the war, but I have faith that the people will grow and prosper. And I know that, in the future, the people will love and appreciate your work as much as I do now.

Also, if you do not mind, I have another request for you. Aside from the landscapes and portraits I have already commissioned from you, I would like to request something more… personal.

If you don't mind, could you please send me a portrait of yourself?

I know you're not partial to self-portraits, but it has been many moons since I've last seen you, and I find myself missing you more by the day. Though a portrait of you can't replace your company, I know it would make me smile all the same. I am happy to charge you our usual rate.

I will pray to the Goddess for your continued safety.

Sincerely,

Marianne von Edmund

PS. I have included a gift with this letter, so you may know that there is always someone thinking of you.


Ignatz reread the letter three times. But no matter how much he read it, the words written in blue ink never changed.

"So this isn't payment." Ignatz picked up the brooch again. "But if this is a gift, isn't it a really expensive one?"

Ignatz sat there for who knows how long, twisting the silver brooch in his hands.

"She knows I don't like drawing myself," Ignatz mused out loud. "So for her to request a self-portrait of me… she must've been very brave."

That settled it.

"Then so it shall be!" Ignatz bounded from his seat and strode to his materials box. "Marianne, I'm not sure why you want a portrait of me of all people, but if this is what you want, then I will paint it!"


The Paintings of Lord Ignatz von Edmund. Audio Guide, Track #14

We have now reached the largest painting ever created by Lord von Edmund.

Painted in 1190, this piece is considered to be Lord von Edmund's masterpiece. It was a belated wedding present for his wife, and it is rumored that the artist spent many moons completing it. As it is ten meters long and three meters high, art historians analyzed the painting and discovered that it was actually composed of smaller pieces of fabric that Lord von Edmund later pasted onto the final canvas. Historians agree that this was done so he could work on the gift as he and his wife traveled across Fódlan after their wedding. The technique by which he stitched the final piece together is one of the many reasons why his legacy lives on today.

The painting itself is a finely detailed depiction of Lord and Lady von Edmund riding their horses through a forest path the morning after their wedding. The trees are tall, lush, and filled with native fruits as a symbol of Fódlan's successful recovery from the war. The light of the sunrise is so strong it filters through the trees' thick branches, almost as if it is safely guiding the couple through the forest.

The forest path is lined with colorful flowers, most notably forget-me-nots and lilies of the valley. Though many burst from brown soil, some have sprouted out of burnt dirt, as if it has endured and flourished despite the harshness of war.

Surrounding the happy couple are dozens of forest animals. Bluebirds chirp overhead, squirrels scuttle up and down the trees, rabbits jump from their burrows, and an entire herd of deer can be seen between the many trees that compose the painting's background.

Lady Marianne rides slightly ahead, atop her well-loved mare, Dorte. Perplexingly, she rides in her wedding dress. Historians agree that, though the Lord and Lady did depart the morning after their wedding, Lady Marianne left her wedding dress at her estate, as she did not wish to see it ruined during the trip. It is how the dress was safely preserved throughout the years, and it is currently exhibited at the Fódlan Couture Museum.

And yet, though it is well known that the painting was completed well before the couple returned to their estate, Lord Ignatz managed to perfectly replicate his wife's wedding gown. The white dress, which has a high collar, a full skirt, delicate stitching across the bodice and sleeves, and an intricate bow just above the skirt's waist, is a near one-to-one recreation of the real-life gown. Lord Ignatz even replicated the minuscule patterns woven into Lady Marianne's veil, which flutters in the wind alongside her dress' meter-long train.

Special care was also taken when composing Lady Marianne's profile. As per usual, Lord Ignatz took great care when highlighting the delicate curve of her smile, and the shy yet kind gaze in her eyes. But in this painting, he also adds an element of hope, as Lady Marianne shines brightly with the rays of sunlight gently illuminating her face.

Next to her is Lord Ignatz, atop his horse that is following along at a pace or two slower than his wife's. The composition allows the audience to first gaze at and admire Lady Marianne, who is the focal point of the piece, but also allows us to appreciate the expression on Lord Ignatz's face.

As mentioned previously, this is one of only three paintings in which Lord Ignatz painted himself. Here, he rides atop a brown steed, wearing a formal green wedding suit with the insignia of his birth family's merchant business. His saddles are filled to the brim with rolls of canvas, brushes, and glass containers of paint. He wears his iconic round glasses, but also a smile that stretches his entire face. Despite the beautiful forest around him, he simply cannot look away from his new wife. Perhaps that is where the painting found its title.

Painting #171. The Beauty of Fódlan, Imperial Year 1190.