Chapter Seven—Xulia

For Jessamine’s first order of business she had demanded they visit a clothier so Shiro could get bedecked in a new outfit.

“But my clothes are freshly washed,” he protested.

“Those are your adventuring clothes,” she said. “They’re old.”

“They are well intact.”

“Ha!” she scoffed. “It’s time for something new. Something that befits the majesty of Darshuun!” she exclaimed, gesturing to the city with her hands as she turned a around on her feet.

Shiro glanced about. To their left was the palace of Azir with its massive pillars and domes. Flags of red and gold and green fluttering in the wind. Shiro admitted that he would have liked to enter such a place, but the guards outside, wearing their raiment’s and turbans with scimitars at their hips looked particularly uninviting.

The weather was stifling today, but thankfully the storm had not fully dissipated and dark rainclouds were rolling in once more and a cool breeze swept through the streets that billowed the hems of women’s dressed and the voluminous pantaloons of many walkers.

In the wide street carriages pulled by horses and some even by camels rolled by. Some stopped, their doors opened by guards in fine clothes for their even better dressed patrons who often wore rings and necklaces of gold or silver with sapphires, rubies, emeralds and all manner of other gemstones.

Just now a beautifully tall and slender woman in a white dress and long wavy hair stepped out of the carriage just opposite of Shiro. On her wrists were little strings containing white beads of pearl—something he saw only rarely in his homeland.

“Here we are,” Shiro, Jessamine said. She pointed into the shop. “This is one of the premier clothiers in Dashuun!”

He looked at the sign of carved wood, gilded in gold lettering called, XULIA.

“Hmm,” he noised skeptically.

“Yes, many of the fabrics will be far out of your price range, my young adventurer, but they have many, many more lesser cuts as well that are still quite handsome in their quality.”

The last part of her explanation sounded more like she was associated with the clothier.

“Come along,” she added.

Sometime later Shiro was standing in front of a mirror, the strap of his bag where he kept the lamp twirled around his ankle and his katana in his left hand.

“Oh, don’t you look dashing, Shiro?” Jessamine asked as she took him into the center of the mirror. “Like a prince.”

“Kami-sama,” he exhaled. “You have dressed me like a fop.”

“Nonsense, Shiro.” She gestured with her hand up and down indicating his newly acquired garments. “These are in fashion.”

He turned slightly to get a better look at what Jessamine had him buying. The voluminous trousers were of a thicker black material that he liked, though the upturned shoes with silver thread patterns he didn’t much care for. Shiro preferred sandals. The overcoat that was open at the front was of a blue silk that hung to his knees with diamond patterns running along the hem. He quite liked this as well.

But the under tunic he hated. The color was a light sand with intricate patterns of gold thread and annoying buttons of polished wood running down his chest in an angled trajectory.

And the turban. The turban was the worst of it all. It was huge, though it didn’t weight very much. Like his coat, it too was of blue silks and to deck it off, there was a large white feather sticking out of the top.

That women he had seen getting out of the luxurious carriage earlier was in the shop. Though beautiful, he was too distracted by the horrendous outfit Jessamine had chosen for him for his eye to wander about admiring her.

That, and he wouldn’t want a stranger seeing him with this outfit on either.

“I hate it.”

“Well, you can leave the turban if it’s not your style, but I like the rest.”

Shiro glanced at her incredulously. “You like the outfit?”

“Yes.”

Sighing, he took off the turban and handed it to the shop woman who had helped Jessamine choose the various fabrics for his outfit, but with his katana in one hand, he had some trouble removing the item.

Looking in the mirror, Shiro sighed again. He could manage with the voluminous trousers and the overcoat, but the under tunic was, at least to his own tastes, completely unacceptable.

“Ugh,” Jessamine said. “The sword doesn’t match. We should buy you a new one.”

“Iie!” Shiro said. “This sword was presented to me by—“

“Yes, yes,” she sighed. “Daimyo Karage. You’ve told me at least a dozen times. It’s not even a powerful sword like mine.”

Shiro jerked his gaze toward her. “You have a sword?”

She smiled mysteriously. “Actually… I have two.”

Shiro cocked his head back, completely shocked at her revelation. “But you—“

Suddenly from behind a man’s voice, with a strong air of accusation, said, “Shiro Takeda!”

Shiro whirled, his hand going to his katana hilt, but the finely-dressed man who stood before him with his fists on his hips and a huge smile on his face was none other than Ali al Bashir!

The swashbuckler, looking nothing like he had before, laughed loudly. “SHIRO!” he called excitedly and spread his arms!

“Ali?!” Shiro said, his eyes widening.

“Oh no,” Jessamine said, but Shiro barely heard her.

“Shiro! You dog!” Ali exclaimed, and lunged at him with a strong embrace that almost lifted him off his feet.

Shiro was slightly taken aback, but found himself slapping Ali’s back with excitement. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here, my friend? In a shop like this?”

“But look at you,” Shiro said, ignoring Ali’s question and nodding up and down at Ali’s fine clothes. It was clear he had come into some money.

“Oh this?” he said. “It’s nothing. That’s why I’m here, to buy some new—oh, oh!—I’m so rude! My love, come here.” The woman in white Shiro had watched leave her carriage and later come into into the shop came over with a smile on her face. “Shiro, please meet my wife, Hafza!”

“Interesting,” Jessamine muttered dubiously.

Shiro almost gaped. “You’re married?”

“Yes!”

Shiro turned to her. “It is my pleasure to meet you,” he said with a small bow. “Ali and I have been friends for some months.”

“Aha! Yes, indeed, Shiro. It’s so good to see you. You must come to my manor!” Ali said excitedly.

“You have a manor?” Jessamine exclaimed.

Ali looked up, seemingly recognizing that she was there for the first time. “Ah, and Jessamine. So wonderful to see you again as well.” He smiled and approached her.

Jessamine’s eyebrow rose as she gave him a dubious look. It looked like Ali was going to embrace her but she put out her hand instead.

Ali paused slightly, then took up her hand and kissed it.

Then his wife clicked her tong and waved her hand. “Ali, love—you’re making me jealous. Who is this woman?”

“Oh, so sorry, my dear,” he said. “This is Jessamine.” He gestured to Shiro. “She’s Shiro’s… companion!”

“Indeed,” Jessamine said with a practiced smile. “It is nice to meet you.” Then in a surprised fashion, though one slightly dripping with mostly-hidden contempt, she added, “Ali? Married to such a beautiful woman such as yourself. And look how rich he has become. It’s a wonder.”

“Surprising, yes,” Ali said, “a wonder, no.”

“How?” Shiro asked.

“Oh, gods, I’ll tell you soon,” he said, “but first we must enjoy the sumptuous products of Xulia together! Your outfit, Shiro.” He smiled that leering adventurer’s smile of his. “You’ve come up in the world, eh? Just like me, my friend.” He put an arm around Hafza.

Shiro nodded, unable to keep a smile off his face. “Somewhat. I’m—we’re still quite occupied with adventuring as we make our fortunes.”

“And now you’re here, in Darshuun like you told me you would be.”

“Yes,” Shiro said. “We have only been here a day and the city is wonderful.”

“Oh, indeed!” Ali said. “Come, let me buy you your outfit. It looks wonderful on you. A true Abassir man, haha!”

Shiro tried to stop him, but Ali was insistent.

Finally Jessamine broke in. “I haven’t even chosen anything yet.” Probably looking to find an ally for her cause, she turned to Hafza and said, “And you? Come with me. We can shop together without these fools.”

Hafza laughed.

“Go on, my dear,” Ali said happily. “Shiro and I have much to discuss.”

“Very well,” Hafza said, and was yanked away by Jessamine.

As they receded deeper into the store, Jessamine sent a mental conveyance to Shiro.

A princess ten times her age and a hundred times her social superior and I’m running off with this girl like we’re long lost pals…

Unable to stop himself, he glanced back toward the women—toward Jessamine. But she said nothing else, giving Shiro the impression that her conveyance hadn’t been intentional.

“So!” Ali said, “Shiro! It’s been half a year. How are you getting on, my friend?”

Distracted, Shiro turned back to Ali and smiled. He was truly happy to see the other man. Together they proceeded to regale one another of their time apart.