Blair and Rip walked through the double doors and into a massive parlor. Dual staircases curved downward from the top two floors while a domed skylight in the ceiling flooded the whole area with ambient light.

Checkerboard marble flooring, in foot-square tiles alternating between white marble and dark green, helped create a thoroughly elegant atmosphere. A grand piano sat off to the left, with sheet music out.

Turning, he noticed a massive coat tree standing near the doors behind them, stretching up at least 12 feet. Rip guessed it would fetch a very nice price in the antique shops around Northern Virginia.

The whole place looked ready to host a classy soiree, and everything looked sparkling clean, not a speck of dust anywhere.

Along the far wall above a massive fireplace, a portrait with two subjects stared out at them.

Blair slipped her hand behind his elbow and pulled him toward the giant picture. They stopped near the mantle and stared up at it.

The portrait displayed a man, stern and taciturn, in his late 30s. A respectable handlebar mustache curled out from his face, several inches equidistant from his face.

Beside him, in contrast to his scowl, a young girl about eight years old smiled brightly. She hugged a worn teddy bear, as if making sure he would be in the picture, too. On a table beside her, a stack of books looked like they were as much a part of her life as the bear.

“You and your father, I take it?”

Blair nodded.

“We have some land in the far north, but we hardly visit it anymore. I think he bought it more as a favor, to help out some nobleman who needed the money. Anyway, while visiting it the first time, we stayed at the manor for a week and he commissioned a local artist to make a portrait of the two of us. This is the result.”

She smiled with the memory, but it looked bittersweet.

“He hated it. He thought the fellow made him look too dour. I, on the contrary, thought the artist captured him quite well. So when I moved out and bought my own place, I took this portrait with me. Father has never demanded it back. Although, he has said he would prefer I move it to a less prominent location.”

“Obviously you refused.”

“I have an independent streak, Muscles. And I no longer live under his roof.”

She pulled him through a door.

“Come along. I will show you to your rooms.”

They walked down a hall past a kitchen area, which also looked sparkling clean, and into a more private living area with a breakfast table off to the side. Here, a doorway led outside. Blair opened it and they stepped through.

“My private sanctuary, right in the middle of the city.”

Rip found himself in a rather large courtyard garden, beautifully manicured. Walls from the townhome surrounded it. In the center sat a small cottage. Blair led him there.

She opened the door and they went inside.

“It’s quite cozy. There’s a bell cord and a speaking tube here near the door should you need anything once Nancy returns.”

She led him on a tour, pointing out the bedroom, the living room, and a small dining nook.

“Most important of all is the bathroom, here.”

They walked into a pink-tiled room with a huge claw-footed iron tub. Two faucets poked out of the wall, one marked “H,” the other “C.”

Blair pointed at it and said, “You’ll want to be clean before Mr. Stoffman arrives. I’ll leave you to it.”

He nodded in agreement. She turned to go, then stopped and turned back.

“I’ll try to find something fresh you can wear while Mr. Stoffman measures you. Is there anything else I can have Nancy bring you?”

“You know, I’d love to have some history books. Something to let me know about your world, and this country. A book on proper etiquette at court might be nice, too, if you have it. Anything to help me be ready for tomorrow.”

“I have one of the best private libraries in the city, Sergeant. I’ll go find the perfect selections for you and have Nancy bring them along with your temporary attire.”

He waited until he heard the outer door close, then he took off his purloined boots and the overalls, ignoring the system status messages appearing in his head.

He turned on the faucet labeled with an H, and did not have to wait long for steaming hot water to come out. Then he turned on the cold one, too.

“It doesn’t come out in one stream. Hm.”

He put a hand in the water of the giant tub, experimentally. Then he stepped in, carefully, and sat, grabbing soap and a body brush from a shelf nearby.

Half an hour later, he sat back in the tub, filled up to his chin, his eyes closed. All his bruises felt better. Everything felt better.

He heard the door to the guest cottage open and some rustling noises.

“Sergeant? I’ve put your items here in the front.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

He heard the door close again.

Half an hour later, he pulled the plug on the drain and stood to towel off. Wrapping it around his waist, he went to see what kind of clothes Blair found for him.

On a coffee table in the front room, he found a pile of books and a frilly white bathrobe draped over the couch.

“Hm. Oh well.”

He put the robe on just as someone knocked on the door.

Opening it, he saw a thin, tall man with a dark face and a pointed chin. The chin, Rip thought, stretched out almost as far as the man’s long nose, giving him a peculiar look.

He stuck his hand out and said, “Sergeant Coulter, I presume? Nicholas Stoffman.”

Instinctively, Rip grabbed the hand and shook. When he did so, a prompt appeared in his mind’s eye.

[Enhanced Tailor, Tier 4.]

Rip’s eyebrows shot up.

“You’re an enhanced tailor? I didn’t realize there was such a thing.”

Stoffman gave him a peculiar look.

“Yes. I suppose Lady Brooke informed you of my capabilities. Now, I have in my case here a selection of undergarments for you. If you don’t mind, sir, please put these on. I will have ten more sets just like it sent over in the morning.”

Rip excused himself, taking the shorts and shirt and heading back to the bathroom. Moments later he reappeared. Stoffman stood with a notepad, pencil, and a measuring tape.

“Ordinarily, of course, for a bespoke suit we would require several measurements over time. However, as you are in need of something appropriate for court and an appearance with the Venture Society tomorrow, we will be taking one set of measurements now for delivery in the morning. But have no angst, my good man. I am indeed an enhanced tailor.”

An hour later, Stoffman left with a notebook filled with measurements and markings. He left behind a loose pair of tweed pants and a blousy white top more resembling a potato sack than a shirt.

These would do for informal dining with Lady Brooke, the tailor assured him. His suit would delivered before lunch, with additional clothing for a variety of occasions the gentleman might find himself in, over the following days.

Rip thanked him, and walked him to the door, still in his underwear.

When he left, Rip turned and examined the books Blair left him.

“Hm. ‘A Brief History of Umbria.’ ‘Rossum’s Rules of Etiquette at Court.’ That one’ll be handy for tomorrow. ‘Decorum for the Genteel Classes.’ Guess I’ll start with the brief history.”

He sat down with the book, ready to learn more about his new world.

A while later his implant sent a message.

[Mission Complete! Your team has completed “Rescue Dr. Henson Oggolopoli.” Visit the local chapter of the Royal Venture Society to claim your reward.]

“Hmmm.”