The week passed without fanfare. While Sylph focused on building more of a bond with her companion, Damien followed his cultivation method by repeatedly casting spell after spell. He practiced multicasting, only stopping when the headaches grew too strong to bear. It was slow and tedious, but he could feel himself getting better at splitting his mental energy with every passing day.

Meanwhile, Henry continued to work within the second training room. Sylph often remained on her bed, so it wasn’t much of a bother. He refused to share his progress with Damien, stating that since Sylph got to hide something, so did he.

In between their training, Delph and Dredd pushed them hard in class. While their personal lessons with Delph became less frequent, the professor still summoned them once to practice without the other students present. He doubled down on their physical training once more, running both completely ragged.

On the other hand, Dredd was still content to observe their progress silently. He often left midway through their class, disappearing through his red portal only to return several minutes later.

The atmosphere amongst the Year Two students grew tenser as time passed. Another boy managed to manifest his companion in its battle form, which only served to spur the competition harder.

Days passed in a blur and, before Damien knew it, the weekend was upon him. Henry nudged him out of bed with a prod of mental energy.

“Wake up,” Henry said.

Damien blinked awake, coming to his senses quickly. He didn’t bother complaining about the rude awakening. He’d gotten so used to rising at ridiculous hours in the morning that it didn’t affect him as much as it once had.

He swung his legs out of bed, covering a yawn. Sylph was, unsurprisingly, already awake and sitting on her bed. She gave him a nod as he headed to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Once he came out, Sylph stretched her arms out above her head and opened her eyes.

“We’re meant to go with Nolan and Reena to that restaurant today,” she said. “They didn’t mention when we’d be going though, did they?”

“Don’t think so,” Damien said, frowning. “I honestly assumed it was for lunch or something.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Sylph said. “I think I’ve heard someone pacing around outside our door for the past ten minutes.”

Damien raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? It’s barely past night. What would someone be doing–”

There was a brisk knock on the door. Damien’s eye twitched and Sylph smirked, slipping out of bed and padding over to the door. She opened it, revealing Nolan standing before them as stiff as a board.

“Hello,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “Ah, can I come in?”

Sylph shrugged. She gave him a nod and stepped out of the way, walking back over to her bed and sitting down.

“What brings you here so early in the morning?” Damien asked.

“Well, I heard you talking so I figured you were awake,” Nolan said. He rubbed the back of the head. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“You didn’t,” Damien said.

“Ah. Good,” Nolan said. There was a short pause. “Ah, I thought I should probably warn you about some things before we went to the Dancing Dragon today. Assuming you can still come, of course.”

“We can still come so long as you still want us to,” Damien replied. “But… warn us? About what?”

“The Dancing Dragon is frequented by nobility,” Nolan said. “People at the same level as Reena and I or sometimes even higher. There are certain rules that everyone is expected to follow within it.”

“Don’t you think this might have been wise to mention earlier?” Sylph asked, cocking her head.

“I honestly didn’t think about it,” Nolan said. “These are things I’ve done ever since I was a kid. It only just occurred to me that you two may not know the customs since you aren’t from a noble house.”

“Well, hopefully there aren’t too many,” Damien said. He gestured to the end of his bed. “Do you want to sit down?”

“It’s okay,” Nolan replied. “This won’t take all that long, actually. First, don’t make eye contact with any of the High Nobles. They’ll be the ones sitting on the second floor, if they’re there at all.”

“Are they so high and mighty that us disgusting commoners can’t even gaze upon them?” Sylph asked.

“No,” Nolan said, grimacing. “But there is a whole new set of rules for interacting with the High Nobles, and we don’t have time to cover that. They won’t approach you unless you initiate anything, and eye contact means you’re willing to speak with them. Hence, if you don’t make eye contact, they won’t speak with you and you don’t have to worry about it.”

“That makes sense,” Damien said. “It’s kind of lame, but sure. Are the High Nobles directly related to the Queen or something?”

“Many of them are,” Nolan said. He let out a weary sigh. “It’s complicated, and I find myself caring less about it with every passing week. The more I learn, the less I want to lead my house.”

Nolan blinked, then shook his head, letting out an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t come here to complain. Back to rules. Try not to interact with the waitstaff more than you have to. You’ll think you’re being polite talking to them, but they’re incredibly efficient. Just say what you want and don’t waste their time. They’ll keep talking to you to be polite, but trust me – they’re just doing their job. Be fast.”

When he spoke, he looked square at Damien.

“Why do I feel like that was directed at me more than Sylph?” Damien asked, holding back a laugh.

“Because you’d probably talk too much and then waste even more time apologizing,” Sylph said. She sent him a smirk and gestured for Nolan to continue. “It looks like you’re trying to keep something trapped in your mouth. What is it?”

“You need to dress well,” Nolan finished, grimacing. “Like, really well. Do you have a suit?”

“Ah…” Damien trailed off. “I’ve got my coat?”

“That won’t do,” Nolan said. “Not at all. We need to get you something fancy. Sylph, I assume you’re in the same situation?”

“I think my clothes look perfectly fine,” Sylph said, crossing her arms.

“They do,” Nolan said quickly, backpedaling. “Just, not for this. There’s a different purpose, just like how a dagger and a sword can both be useful.”

“Well, unlike a dagger or a sword, I can’t make clothes out of Ether,” Damien said. He opened his mouth, then cocked his head to the side. “Well, I suppose I could, actually. I don’t think that would be particularly fancy, though. It would certainly be unique.”

“No,” Nolan said. His tone grew firm and authoritative. “Don’t worry, we can get this fixed quickly. My family has a talented tailor in our employ, and he should already be awake. He should have some work that can be quickly modified to fit both of you. Come with me.”

“Hold on,” Damien said as Nolan moved to leave the room. “I appreciate it, but could you at least tell us how much that’ll cost? A custom suit doesn’t sound like it’s cheap.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Nolan said. “We said we’d pay for the trip, and this is included. Just… come on. We don’t have all that much time.”

“Oh, thank you. That’s very kind,” Damien said, as he and Sylph both followed Nolan out the door and down the sloping mountain path. “But what time are we going?”

“We’re scheduled to arrive at midday,” Nolan replied. “But Reena also insisted on visiting the city. I’ve got no idea what she has planned, but Seaview is quite the location. It’s certainly worth going to, especially before the crowds start to pick up at midday.”

“Is this lunch or an entire event?” Damien asked, only half joking.

“They’re the same thing,” Nolan said, glancing back at him as they headed down a chilly road towards a portal. The dark energy crackled invitingly. The three slipped through it, weathering the effects without any trouble and arriving in the obsidian courtyard surrounded by arches.

Nolan didn’t even hesitate before making a beeline towards a portal a short distance from the one they’d entered through. Damien and Sylph exchanged a bemused glance and followed Nolan into it.

The dark energy swallowed them once more. It nibbled at Damien’s skin like a sharp wind. Purple and black spun in a dizzying vortex before him. A short while later, he staggered out into a small plaza surrounded with portals of varying colors.

Quaint stone buildings stretched out in neat lines on all four sides of the plaza. They were all either one or two stories and were varying colors of blue. The roof shingles were all large, flat seashells. The smell of salt, accompanied by the faintest hint of fish, wafted up into Damien’s nostrils. His stomach churned from the journey, but it was still nothing compared to a lot of the other teleportations he’d had.

“Welcome to Seaview,” Nolan said, only looking slightly queasy. He straightened his shirt and shook his head. “We can get a better look around later. The tailor isn’t too far now.”

He set off at a brisk pace and the other two hurried to keep up with him. Damien had to admit that the city was beautiful. The small houses felt like brushstrokes on a painting that he could walk through.

The city sloped downwards enough to see over the tops and through the cracks of the roofs, revealing a huge body of water a short distance from the city. Damien could just barely make out what might have been a dock.

“Well, I guess we know why it’s called Seaview,” he observed. Nolan snorted as they turned a corner and came to an abrupt stop before a two story building.

“The town was built by a famous designer that worked for the previous Queen,” Nolan said. He rapped on the door twice and took a step back, indicating for the others to do the same. “It’s frequented by a lot of nobility and powerful mages, which is one of the reasons why the Dancing Dragon is so renowned. Only an incredibly good restaurant could survive in this city.”

Before either Damien or Sylph could respond, the door swung open to reveal a thin, sallow faced man with straight gray hair. He had a neatly trimmed moustache and wore a black three piece suit that was so clean it practically shimmered.

“Master Nolan,” the man said, bowing. “Are these the two you would like me to outfit this fine morning?”

“They are, Tailor Shanta. Please treat them as if they were one of the family,” Nolan said, giving the man a slight nod in response. His tone had shifted, going from conversational to aloof.

“Of course,” Shanta said, straightening. His eyes swept over the two of them and Damien fought the urge to shudder. Shanta’s gaze felt like it was stripping him on the spot, latching onto every miniscule mistake or problem and magnifying it a thousand times.

The tailor turned on his heel and swept into the dark hallway behind him, forcing them to hurry after to keep up with his long legged stride. Luckily, he quickly reached a door and pulled it open, letting warm yellow light flood out.

Damien and Sylph headed through the doorway at his gesture and Shanta closed the door behind them, leaving Nolan outside. The room was neither large nor small. A big table sat at its center, a chair behind it. Tailor’s tools were scattered across it alongside a dazzling purple coat that had mesmerizing designs flowing up one side and part of the other. Behind it, dozens of suits and dresses hung from hangers.

“Master Nolan has informed me that we only have a few hours to work with,” Shanta said, slipping between them and giving each another critical once over. “Do you have a preference on style?”

“Ah… a suit?” Damien guessed.

The tailor’s eye twitched slightly. “No preference for the young man. And for you, miss? Perhaps a–”

“Something easy to move in, please,” Sylph said, cutting him off. “I don’t want to have to walk around in something that’s actively suffocating me.”

“I see,” Shanta said. “I can work with that. Corsets haven’t been in style for a few years now, so you don’t have to worry there. Now, let’s see. You need a matching theme, of course.”

“We do?” Damien asked.

“Of course you do. It is imperative. We can’t go with black, of course.”

“Logically,” Damien muttered under his breath. Sylph shot him a warning glance, but she couldn’t hide the small grin before he spotted it.

“I believe a gray would work. It would be fitting as well, given you are accompanying Master Nolan today,” Shanta continued, either unaware or uninterested in their small interaction. “Yes, gray will work. We will begin with you, young man.”

Shanta grabbed a small marked rope from the counter and strode up to Damien. The tailor grabbed him, pulling him upright and straightening his shoulders out. He wrapped the rope around him, taking a quick measurement before shifting Damien’s position again.

For the next few minutes, the tailor manhandled Damien in just about every way possible. He made him stretch his arms in every direction, touch his toes, and even stand on one leg. Finally, Shanta strode off into the racks of clothing, pushing through the front row and disappearing.

He reappeared a moment later carrying a sharp gray suit. A faint swirling pattern reminiscent of waves ran along it, but it was far from gaudy. It was still fancier than anything Damien had owned, but it least it didn’t look like it would stick out too much.

Shanta sat down, making several quick incisions in the clothing with a pair of scissors. The desk’s drawer sprung open of its own accord and gray thread spooled out from within it, flying into the suit and patching the openings even as the tailor made more. After several minutes of work, Shanta stood back up. He handed the suit and pants to Damien. “It is done.”

“Thank you,” Damien said. “Should I go try this on somewhere, or…”

“No need,” Shanta said. “It will fit perfectly. The cloth is resistant to spills and rips, but it won’t stop a blade thrust.”

Damien nodded, but there was no need. Shanta’s attention was already on Sylph. He rubbed his chin, eyeing her for several moments. “And now, young lady, I must figure out exactly what to do with you.”