Euryale wasn’t in the inn by the time Dallion got back. March didn’t appear particularly pleased, but didn’t comment on it. Twenty minutes were spent shifting between silence and small talk until finally the gorgon arrived.

Seeing all three of them together, the innkeeper took that as a sigh to start serving lunch. Before that could happen, though, a two-hour meeting took place within the awakened realm of March’s rapier. There was no telling from where the Icepicker captain had obtained her information—especially considering that she was the only one that had remained in the inn—yet, the information was frighteningly valid.

Based on what March had found out, there had been at least six teams that had attempted to find the aura sword in the last five years, not including the mages. Out of them, half had managed to get close to the item, though failed to obtain it. One team, apparently, had made the misjudgment to switch side mid mission, resulting in their quick death. As for the remaining two teams: one had failed to find the trail and the other had a quick mid-way for unspecified reasons.

It came to little surprise to learn that none of the teams were from the city itself. In fact, the current trio were closer by far to the Archduke than anyone else. One thing was blatantly clear: political games were being played on a much higher level and the banquet everyone had been invited to was going to be just another arena. The best course of action was to not get involved. Sadly, that was no longer an option. By inviting them, someone had already put them on the board. March’s advice was for everyone to keep a low profile as possible and create as few waves as possible. As sound as the advice was, it was going to cause considerable problems to Dallion. One way or another, he had to get an invitation to the night auction, which by definition meant asking a favor from one of the nobles.

March also shared that it was possible that one of the Archduke’s retainers might have a brief talk with them regarding the mission. If so, Dallion and Eury were to be on their best behavior and try to follow high etiquette as much as possible.

The meeting was over, everyone returned to the real world, where lunch was in the process of being served.

Barely had they finished when the tailors sent by their employers arrived. The tailors consisted of half a dozen people, all of them double digit awakened. Several chests of fabrics and decorations were also brought in, to make sure that the clothes created best suited the complexion of the person who would wear them.

Despite her long speech on not causing any waves, March flat out refused to wear any clothes other than her armor. The only thing she would agree to was some “minor apparel adjustments.” Dallion wasn’t as lucky.

“This won’t take long,” a man old enough to be Dallion’s grandfather said. “I already have a basic idea of what would look good on you. Occasionally, a bit more detail is required when dealing with light-skinned visitors, but in your case, I’d say things are pretty standard.”

“Thanks.” I guess?

“Think nothing of it,” the man waves his hand, as if he was doing Dallion a favor. “Lead the way to your room, if you please.”

A far younger assistant followed behind, carrying a finely crafted wooden chest. One could assume he was an apprentice learning the craft. According to the chest guardian, the young one still had a lot to learn. The master tailor, on the other hand, was an expert in his field and had been creating clothes for the noble families of the city for the last twenty years.

“I’ll also need to see your weapons,” the old man said as they made their way to Dallion’s room. “And protective gear, of course.”

“I’m allowed to take those?” Dallion sounded surprised.

“You’re a hunter,” the old man said with a sigh, as if he were addressing a country bumpkin. “It is expected of you. Our only goal is to make you a bit less rough around the edges.”

Thinking about it, that made sense. Besides, it wasn’t like Dallion would be able to harm anyone at the event other than the servants.

“I take it, you'll let me know which of the weapons are most suitable for the event?” Dallion asked in his most sophisticated manner.

“But of course.” The old man nodded. “Put the chest here,” he told his assistant. “And you, please stand by the window.”

Dallion had a pretty good idea of what would follow from here. Living with a thread forger for over a year had made him pick up on the basics. Raising his arms, he went into a T-pose, expecting the tailors to get a sense of his measurements.

Once the door was closed, they got to work.

“Please take a more relaxed stance,” the old man said as he slowly circled Dallion. “I don’t think there will be any issues. Kalim, fetch me the crimson gold and the silver green. We’ve yet to decide which would be a better match.” The tailor took a step back. “I trust you still have the pouch the general entrusted you with?”

Dallion stiffened. This, he didn’t expect. Apparently, there was no telling how vast the general’s network was. If he wanted to become a crime boss, he would have been terrifyingly good at it. The only reason he wasn’t—or so Dallion suspected—was because the snob was too lazy to deal with a full-time job. It suited him much better to have a vast network of indebted “associates” to do his bidding whenever he called.

“Yes. It’s—”

“Remain still for just a moment, please.” The tailor interrupted. “The general wished to let you know that the item he’s interested in is called a demon eye.”

Dallion tensed up.

“No, that’s nothing to be alarmed about. It’s just the name of a rather rare pearl which changes colors depending on the time of day. It’s said that only five of those exist, so the general would be extremely appreciative if you were to procure it tonight.”

Easier said than done, Dallion thought.

“Maybe the silver green. What do you think, Kalin?” The tailor turned to his assistant.

“Good choice, sir. I’ll ready your tools.”

“And bring the item, if you will.”

There was the distinct sound of a wooden box opening. Moments later, the assistant walked up to Dallion, holding a large metal broach. At first glance, there didn’t seem to be anything special about it. However, Dallion could also see that it was made of a metal he wasn’t familiar with.

“I’m told that you’ll know how to use this,” the old tailor said. “All that you have to do is press both sides of it against your skin. Kalim will leave it on your bed.”

If nothing else, the general had at least kept his word. There was no guarantee that the device would work, of course, though Dallion couldn’t detect any deception coming from either of the two tailors.

“You can talk now, by the way. I’ve already memorized your measurements.”

“Are you sure it’ll work?” Dallion went straight to the point.

“That—” the tailor took a small knife and started slicing the fabric with surgical precision “—is between you and the general. I am only here to believe the message and the item. Everything else is up to you.”

Typical, Dallion thought.

“Oh, and one other thing. The general regrets to inform you that he wasn’t able to procure an invitation to the event. You’ll have to do that on your own. Since this was an unforeseen event, he’s agreed to let you keep what is left from your auction purchase to do whatever you wish.”

“How generous of him,” Dallion grumbled.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned after all this time is that the general is never generous. My advice would be to take advantage of the situation as best you could.” The old man placed the cloth cutouts on the bed, then took one of the needles in the box his assistant provided. “You can start working on the buttons,” he told Kalim. “Stick to silver with a dull glow.”

In three quarters of an hour, Dallion’s three-piece suit was ready, along with a shirt of shimmering blue fabric. Adjusting a few last-minute details, the tailors backed their things, then left, after instructing him to mend the suit just before entering the banquet, to get rid of all the wrinkles. The old man also suggested that during the vent itself, Dallion developed a habit of mending his clothes every few minutes to keep them “as crisp as possible.”

Once they were gone, Dallion closed and barred the door, then sat on the bed.

A tailor, he thought. The general managed to catch a tailor in his web.

Tailors are people like everyone else, dear boy, Nil said. It’s not unusual that some of them have dealings with someone like him. You’d be surprised how easy it is to fall out of favor when dealing with a noble household, especially if one’s whole goal is to get noticed.

The best way to win the game is not to play, Dallion said.

In theory, yes. In practice, the benefits are so great that most people decide that it’s worth taking the risk. You should know better than anyone that a third of all awakened are born in extremely poor families. Some are willing to do whatever it takes to climb as high as possible.

“Just another day of life among the nobility,” Dallion muttered. There was a reason why he had chosen to become a hunter. At least then he didn’t have to play these stupid games. Hopefully, once this whole mess was over, he could go back to how things were before.

Four leather sheaths of various sizes were lying on the bed next to him. From the conversation, it was determined that the most useful weapons for the event were Dallion’s harpsisword, the whip blade, as well as two daggers. Dallionhadn’t given any details, but he had already decided to take the Nox dagger and the thread cutter. The armadil shield, sadly, was going to have to remain behind.

As Dallion sat there, Ruby flew off his perching spot on an open beam of the room and landed on his shoulder.

“You want to come along?” Dallion asked.

The silence indicated that to be the case.

“Of course you would. Just remember, no flying about unless I tell you. We have to appear as fancy as possible.”

Ruby flicked his wings twice.

“Yes, I know you were born fancy. Just no more art for a while, okay?” Dallion gently tapped the body of the shardfly.

The rest of the afternoon Dallion spent improving whatever he could find in the room. Strictly speaking, there was no real point in doing so, but at least it calmed Dallion’s nerves a bit. Also, he finally got to reach the eighty level cap in music and acrobatics. That only left his crafting skills in need of development.

It was noticeable that Eury didn’t even attempt to enter the room the entire day, despite most of her belongings being there. There was no way to tell whether that was due to her new outfit, or things between her and Dollion had gone past the point of no return. The sad truth was that Dallion felt relieved more than anything else. At least this way he wouldn’t have to go through the awkwardness of staying silent in the room with her, wondering how to start a conversation.

Precisely one hour before sunset, Dame Vesuvia came to the inn, acting as the official escort of the group. As one of the lesser relations of the Archduke’s extended family, she had the task of dealing with the more annoying matters of the city.