[x] Drink up.
[x] Go to the tailor who Sidonie thinks is good, which is probably high praise, and can make you bespoke clothes.
[x] Go to the market and explore, which will be quite fun.
"I'm not averse to seeing that tailor of yours first." You answer a little plainly, still distracted as you glance around. "But, I'd rather like to go to market afterwards. I have more than clothes to buy."
She nods, satisfied with the answer. "Naturally, someone as pretty as you will want a strong selection. Shall we?"
You follow, almost matching step but letting her lead on a little. Rahel and Reynauld follow, doing a terrific job of looking imposing. Nobody of the sparse choosing of passers-by give you trouble.
Your eyes drift around, to the horizon and the design of the alleys leading into the town center.
High white granite and sandstone walls stretch overhead and carve the sky into blue alleys, mirroring those on the ground, with the roofs and towers taller still manors peeking out behind them. The tight confines are a little soothing, the rolling plains and open sky no longer challenging your ability to control your very mild anxiety at viewing open spaces through your own senses. The walls may provide avenues for ambush but they're also too narrow to support the weight of a man, covered in waterways that would make traversing them unreliable.
Businesses spill out from attractive buildings with stone facades, chairs and tables cutting swathes into the paved central square, with a tall belltower resting at the very center. You drift a little closer to Sidonie as the crowd grows denser around the middle of the town. There's a pleasant smell of baked goods, coffee, pressed fruit and milled grain wafting over all of it.
She quickly grabs your sleeve and drags you away from the square. "We can eat at noon. The sun shuts down most activity anyway."
"...hey! I wasn't done."
"We'll be done when we're done!"
You pass by a slightly less attractive series of streets, these ones unwalled with only fencing separating the pedestrian path from great open-air animal pens housing large-horned cattle with tiny stilt-like legs, large-billed flightless birds that look absolutely ferocious, and a herd of golden-fleeced sheep that gape at you with great round eyes. However interesting the sights are, the smells are a bit less. You hurry.
The herders pay you little more mind than the nobility, pausing to watch you and your companions pass.
"Now I swear it was somewhere around here…" Sidonie mutters to herself, clicking her tongue.
You've already left the pens and entered another area, this one with narrow streets and a ton more blind alleyways leading nowhere. The sides of buildings form the outlines of the street, segmented and unnatural, with covered balconies and walkways adjoining some structures above the streets. They're quite shabby on the immediate entrance from the pens, and then steadily get better as you approach the town's western gate. You easily recognize signposts for a notary, a money-changer, a bowyer, a saddle-maker and at least one store that you think made hats.
She leads you into an alley, this one leading nowhere and flanked only walls by boarded-up windows on three sides and a street only slightly wider than this corner behind you.
You glance around and sit on a crate, patting your thighs a little. "Are you are? I have a feeling we're lost."
Sidonie paces across the ground, putting one foot forward and tapping it side to side before taking another full step forward. As though she's looking for something on the ground. "Ah, yes!" She exclaims. "Ah, yes!"
A moment later, you hear a click.
"What?" You turn.
"Can you stand on… that tile?" She points down, kicking dust and dirt off of a slightly lumpy part of the stone paving.
You step over and hear it click again, turning to her with a little bit of worry.
"...I heard a creak beneath my feet." You comment, glancing down. The little lump on the tile almost looks like a carved cat's head, although you can't quite make it out. It could easily be a dog, or a lion. "A mechanism of some kind?"
"Yes! Something about making it so that people of quality, with the finances to afford an entourage or the foresight to have company can find this place." Sidonie mutters, moving to the far wall and starting to pace more and more. "Hmm hmm. Now where was that brick with the cat-like face on it…?"
"I must admit it seems like quite a bit of trouble for just clothes." You glance around, looking yourself though to no avail. Being in a questionable alleyway doesn't exactly fill you with confidence, even if Sidonie swears by whoever might or might not be here.
"Oh, nonsense. In the capital the top clothiers often require… ah nevermind, I'm being distracted." She mutters, waving behind herself without any particular sense of where the other people in the alley are. "Reynauld, explain while I paw around."
"Yes, of course." The hulking figure of an escudero looks at you from his spot, leaned by one of the boarded windows and gives a bow to her turned back.
You glance at him expectantly, wondering what kind of answer you'll get.
"What my master intended to express was that scheduling appointments with popular clothiers in the central areas of Gran Castille is extraordinarily difficult because appointments for just a measuring and fitting may require months, sometimes years in the case of elites like Madame Foschi, it is not impossible to wait over a year for a first meeting."
You blink. "This sounds absurd."
"Found it!" You hear another click, and one of the walls articulates and begins to move inwards. Whatever makes the door move is shockingly quiet, with only a faint thud as the wall folds itself four times and forms into a doorway large enough for a normal person to fit through. You feel a little bad for Sidonie's staff, although you imagine they can just stay outside.
Instead of responding however, you continue to pay attention to the other escudero's explanation. Reynauld doesn't quite know how to respond, but settles on finishing his explanation.
"It is, but this is why you're lucky. Tailors and seamstresses of quality who reject the austerity and formality, or do not pay guild tolls will sometimes hide their ateliers, like this." Reynauld points in the general direction of the doorway. "It allows them to greet guests as they come."
"Ahh. I suppose that makes sense." You nod, smiling appreciatively at the explanation. "Complicated situation, isn't? The secretive ones sacrifice fame and notoriety for the right to practice their craft a little more as they want."
"Exactly." He nods firmly.
"Hey! Are you not paying attention?" Sidonie points over at the door with both hands, drawing your attention. "Look. Open doorway. Let's go before it resets."
"On my way," you answer with a little smile, stepping past her.
She turns to the other two, nodding over to them. "I'll leave it to you two to look natural while we're inside. Maybe scout out someplace for lunch? We'll be here for a while, I think."
"Call us if anything goes wrong, alright?" Rahel offers, not looking especially concerned. It's a good thing to see.
The false wall leads down a stairwell into what you think was once a cellar, sealed off and concealed, repurposed into a rather cozy-looking workshop for clothes. The air should be cool and a bit damp compared to outside, some hidden mechanism renders it cool and dry. Mannequins pose in a variety of fashions, though mostly women's clothing, and bolts of elaborately printed and woven cloth rests in shelves that go up to the ceiling- which is only a few inches above the crown of your head.
You see a handful of workers working on sewing tables set along the outer edges of the room stitching clothes or doing embroidery, while the center remains open for greeting customers. The staff seem to be mostly young men dressed, in smart but comfortable uniforms, around your or Sidonie's ages. Though there doesn't seem to be a uniform in the atelier, they seem to favor coarser, sturdier fabrics: thick white linens and dark smocks draping over their shoulders.
A hunched figure approaches from a desk at the far end opposite the entrance, holding her arms wide in welcoming. She's scarcely more than three feet tall, with the gait and features of a humanoid cat. Her outfit is a bit in contrast to her stature, a voluminous affair with stuffed sleeves and crinolines undulating beneath a hooped skirt and corset-cinched waist. Though she doesn't tower over her, the expanse of her clothing makes you take a step back.
She looks between the two of you, paws held together. "I see you've returned, Lady Baiyara-Liuva. Will it be menswear again?"
"Yes, Madame Kermes." Sidonie nods, and then puts a hand to your shoulder and jostles you in a friendly manner. "But this one's getting dressed this time."
"Hmm, yes. But not a bad one at all." The cat-woman steps closer and circles, reaching to tug on your clothes and glance at you from all around. "Light-skin, fair hair. Nice features. An excellent figure, if I may say so."
"...what would you recommend?" You mutter, a bit taken aback. This is the first non-human you've met in such a social setting.
Madame Kermes' triangular ears flick.
"Whatever is most in the taste of your lovers, of course." She pauses, and then stops to look at your reaction with slitted yellow eyes. You feel a little frown. Must every woman you meet wish to tease you? Perhaps that is one of those good problems. "We should compliment your natural palette and good body shape. Wan and thin men should be returning to fashion soon, so you'll be in good company."
"Ahhh." You look around and study the shelves again. "Complimentary colors, then? I'm not especially used to the fashions in a proper setting."
"Ah. A former commoner elevated to noble status? Then we'll fix you right up."
She snaps her pawed hands, somehow, and her aids begin to cluster around. You can't help but notice most of them are attractive young men, a bit more muscular than you but definitely following a trend you've picked up from your reading.
"The most essential thing we must have you understand is that trousers are commoner clothes. Men of quality wear breeches, hose or robes- things made for style and to emphasize the lines of their bodies, not just defeat the weather."
The attendants have wheeled out some sample articles of clothing in a lot of different styles, with swatches of cloth too numerous for you to count. The palette seems to be quite colorful, delicate pastels, rich saturated hues and glittering brocaded silks all arrayed in samples for you to choose from. It's overwhelming at a glance.
Sidonie steps up by you and begins pointing choices out. "We can't have you draping in anything. Go for fitted jackets and stuffed breeches, something that really emphasizes your build. You're not that skinny."
"I suppose not. I was hoping to get your recommendations."
"You're not gaudy, and I think you might dislike wearing something too flashy. Pick dark colors and cloth that's high-quality but lacks special details." She says, thumbing over a bit of black velvet that shines slightly blue under the atelier's cool lighting. "Ask for a weave of breathing material in the padding. Wearing all black is a lifestyle."
"Is it?"
"I suppose if you're intending to live somewhere else it'll be no trouble, but this system's two suns will heat you up very quickly."
You scratch your head and nod, after a while, starting to absorb all of this. There are obviously practical concerns to go with the choice of clothing, as well as style. You can't be too sedate or too flashy if you intend to stay by Mireia's side a lot.
"I really appreciate you going to the trouble of explaining all this to me. I'll find some way to repay you." You say, turning to Sidonie.
She smiles thinly and puts a hand at her hip. "Oh, I'll have what I want soon enough! Anyway," she says, before turning to Madame Kermes. "If you have a moment, Madame? I'd like to talk about something special with you."
"Yes." The miniature cat-woman puts her hands together and gives a faint nod. "Geilar, my second, will attend to you. I'll review your choices once they're finished and make my recommendations."
"It's no problem." You briefly exchange glances with the two of them and watch them head away to the adjoining office.
"So you're Lady Liuva-Baiyara's companion? What pretty company you two make together." A young man you assume is Geilar approaches you out of the others, smiling and bowing his head respectfully. He's a head shorter than you, his cherubic, large-eyed face a tad more effeminate than the others, but the hand he extends to you has well-worn fingers and a powerful, unflinching grip. He dispels you of any odd notions before you even have them.
"Not precisely. I'm the escudero of her ally, the Countess Mireia de la Bota." You explain, feeling your chest swell with faint pride as you say that.
He blinks. "A countess! Exciting… although I can't remember hearing that name."
"It's a recent inheritance." Yesterday in fact.
"Ahhh. Well, no doubts about the truth of that given your company!" He smiles, and laughs a little. "So let's have at your clothing."
What do you ask for? Multiple choices allowed.
[ ] You want formal, military clothes that give off an air of legitimacy and discipline.
[ ] You want breezy, comfortable academic gowns and clothes to emphasize your intellectual aspect.
[ ] You want dressed-up formalwear in all styles to look good for every occasion.
[ ] You want practical clothes that are easy to move and work in.
[ ] You want accessories, hats and scarves, mantles and capelets.
And what palettes do you want them in?
[ ] Dark, somber colors to make your presence understated but contrasted to the people around you.
[ ] The earthen red hues of the de la Bota's house colors.
[ ] Something bright and colorful, summery to draw a bit of attention from your stark paleness.
[ ] Go in creams, pastels and white to emphasize your unusual palor and fine looks.