While I never thought I’d say this: fashion actually solves problems.

Beyond clothing, well, keeping people alive, it was also a lucrative enterprise that could validate my legitimacy. Therefore, being able to mass-produce clothing was of critical importance.

To put that into practice, I started with designs I gave to Lily.

“I apologize for making you tailor such gaudy garb,” I frowned, looking at drawings of 18th-century tailcoats in French, British, and Prussian designs. “But it's necessary.”

Lily frowned and looked into my eyes. “I think it’s rather charming. Why would you—” She stopped talking when I handed her a new drawing, and her eyes lit up like fireworks. “Gimme, gimme, gimme that!”

I smiled, looking at a modern three-piece suit and a matching half-trench coat, overcoat, peacoat, and shoes, giving a full range of seasons.

“While I’ll be auctioning these other designs, these will be the center of the auction,” I said. “I refuse to introduce powdered wigs, bicorns, and frock coats when there’s real fashion here. Scandalous as it may be.”

Lily turned to me with a predatory smile, staring into my soul like a half-starved drama queen. “Scandalous, you say?” she mused.

I pulled out some drawings and handed them to her. “That’s a matter of opinion.”

The light-haired brunette’s eyes widened, and her cheeks turned bright red. "W-W-What is this... demonic dress wear?"

“Demonic?” My mood reversed, and I turned to her with a serious expression. There was nothing funny about potentially introducing attire from the demonic continent.

However, I sighed when I saw her chest rising and falling, rosy around the cheeks. “This isn’t demonic garb, right?” I asked. “Just racy?”

“Racy….” Lily blushed, turning to me and averting her gaze. “Is this what you call racy?”

I frowned at the cheeky panties I drew, the kind that cover the front fully but leave a V in the back, covering half a woman’s butt cheeks.

On contemporary Earth, this design is moderately conservative. They provide considerable coverage compared to G-strings, thongs, tanga panties, and even some bikini panties.

That said, they were sexually scandalous.

Kinda.

I wouldn't have suggested their creation if I thought it would cause a serious scandal.

“I don’t consider these racy,” I answered. “But that’s because women don't show these to normal people. They’re supposed to be worn under a chemise, which makes them more conservative than current underwear.”

A chemise was the contemporary equivalent of a modern nightgown—an ultra-thin dress worn under dresses to capture sweat to prevent it from staining a dress, as they're hard to wash.

As for panties, there were none. Women wore body-shaping shorts to hug their hips, but most women only wore a loincloth during their period.

So my argument was that these sexually appealing panties—that I in no way or shape find particularly attractive—were conservative for adding a second layer of clothing between a person and a woman’s nether region.

Lily stared at them as if she noticed them for the first time. “No wonder such garb is popular where you’re from.” Her whole body shivered. “They somehow turn chastity into a sexually promiscuous and exciting endeavor.”

“Ahem,” I cleared my throat. “That’s absolutely correct.”

Her eyes widened in delight, and she reached out her palms as if begging for spare change. “Please, give me all the designs you have.”

“Ahem,” I coughed again, pointing at the suits, coats, and clothing. “Panties won’t help me save the world.”

“Panties…. Panties, panties, panties….” Lily muttered, absentmindedly putting a word to the strange and delightful garments I gave her. Then she snapped out of her haze and turned to me with a fearful glance. “I’m so sorry, King Everwood!” she said, bowing her head. “Of course, I’ll take care of these at once!”

My eyes deadened when she got up, started giving the drawings to the seamstresses, and got them moving at top speed.

I sighed when she returned. “In the next few months, you can mass-produce textiles. However, just order anything you need for now, and I’ll buy it at any cost.”

“Yes, King Everwood!” Lily said with a deep bow.

“I’ll give you more panty designs if you pull this off,” I said, cringing slightly. “So, do well.”

Lily screeched assurances as I walked out the door, frowning. I was slightly creeped out but slightly amused, and the latter annoyed me.

The week proceeded smoothly, with the tailors creating all the clothing items, but it was still causing me to sweat because things weren't as simple as I thought.

While I imagined that it would be simple for them to be like, “Cool, let’s cut it like this and sew it like that,” I quickly realized that the fabric quality on contemporary Earth was wildly superior.

Spinners here sing songs to create a literal beat for even fiber feeding, which determines the size, evenness, and quality of yarn, which then goes into skilled textile weaving, which also has a quality gradient as well.

Therefore, I had Seraphin moving around the clock to find people with royalty-grade cloth just to make a simple pair of trousers!

That meant that we had to expedite the use of the Spinning Jenny, which spun far more even yarn.

It was an instant sensation, allowing the spinners to start producing massive amounts of high-quality yarn daily. As a result, they could prioritize their time weaving, something they greatly enjoyed.

Within a week, they produced high-quality cloth between sewing sessions.

Luckily, the actual sewing didn't cause any problems. Lily could create the pieces I ordered flawlessly when she got high-quality cloth.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

Before long, the pieces quickly stacked up, preparing us for the grand showing only weeks away.

Once enough pieces had lined up to perform a minimal auction, I went to Riley and ordered letterhead for invitations to Maximillian from Cyrvena and countless other countries.

It read: “King Everwood invites you to make history at Solstice’s first all-Earthian fashion auction.”

That was it. All of it.

I mean, what else could I say? Bring your wives to the demon king’s den, where dresses look like long chemises, undergarments shatter chastity vows, and somehow all men’s clothing… covers up slightly more than usual?

Hah. It was a joke. That’s why the term was “all-Earthian,” which clearly indicates “no clothing from here.” With that magical term, it would solve all my problems.

Hah. There I go, joking again. It’s going to be controversial. I’m not sure why, but it’s almost guaranteed with anything I do.

When I handed the invitations to Riley, she looked at another stack of papers alongside them.

“What are these?” Riley asked.

“Assurances,” I replied enigmatically. “Please expedite them. It’s critical we send all of them at once.”

Riley frowned but nodded, confident she could do it. She had developed a lot since I first gave her a job in Elderthorn, and now she was the largest printer in the world with confidence to match. “I’ll expedite it at once.”

“Thank you,” I smiled, walking out the door.

Preparations were almost complete, and with the letters sent out, it was a waiting game.

Unsurprisingly, I got a response almost immediately—from the wrong people.

Naturally, I learned there was a problem because Rema stormed into my office in the dead of night with her resting serious face on, as I liked to call it.

“Is the kingdom literally on fire?” I asked, looking up from a drawing.

“No,” Rema replied. “But—”

“Is there a riot?” I pressed.

The redhead’s eyebrow twitched. “No.”

“Is it a political matter you can solve with a stamp of approval?” I frowned.

She took a deep breath. “No.”

My frown deepened even more. “Is it that serious?”

Rema cast me a ridiculing smile, looking at herself in my office and then at the candles, reminding me that it was dark outside.

“What’s the problem?” I asked, my eyes sharpening.

“Eliso Mari is claiming that you’re selling his latest work illegally, Rewel Olma has claimed your fashion ideas came from the demonic continent, Priest Wynald denounced the clothing as a scandal, and 58 other famous designers and crafters have declared your work fraudulent, uncouth, against Solstice’s values, unethical, or treasonous,” Rema answered.

“Send all 61 notifications of permanent bans from all Everwood Company exports and our trade network,” I instructed. “Let them face the same wrath that Priest Aelius experienced.”

Rema sighed and looked away. “King Everwood. With all due respect, these people are famous tailors working on royalty clothing.”

My eyes glided to the left with thought, pausing for a few seconds before locking eyes again. “So?”

She blinked twice, “What do you mean, so?”

"They don’t require Everwood Company’s goods to weave the same cloth and sew the same garments," I noted. "So that shouldn't affect the rulers. If it does, the rulers shouldn't let their people spread lies and cause me trouble."

Rema frowned. "So that’s it, then?"

"It is," I replied. "I’ll send messenger birds to each nation, letting them know that I’ll be banning their tailors for spreading lies and false accusations, giving them two days to get their people to withdraw before it takes effect."

"And if they refuse and request you delay your auction or any other manner of politics?" Rema asked.

"I'm writing in the first letter that the auction will proceed as planned, and my judgment will be final," I replied. "It won't affect them or future designers. It'll just lead these ones to ruin."

I put my knuckle on my chin. "Actually, anyone who claimed that I stole their work or committed treason is getting permanently ban-listed regardless. The moment people genuinely attacked me, they should be prepared for the consequences."

Rema studied my expression and then sighed. "I’m not sure why, but your calm assurance always eases my mind," she said. "Just please…."

I looked her in the eye. "Please, what?"

The princess turned away. "Don’t kill anyone."

My eyes glided to the left and then turned back to my drawing. "I don’t make promises I can’t keep."

“Why do I….” Rema stopped and took a deep breath. “Good night, Ryker,” she said, walking out the door and closing the door.

I rubbed Thea’s cat ears, making her purr. She was sleeping on my lap when Rema arrived, and she pretended to be asleep to avoid looking at her, a visual trigger.

It’s little things like this that make Thea irreplaceable in my eyes. As uncompromising as she can be, she does have rituals that work.

***

As I instructed, Rema sent a letter to sixty-one people that they were getting banned for life.

Sixty-one people immediately took the matter up with their rulers—and were promptly denied.

No monarch was willing to risk our budding alliance over this matter.

Everyone knew what the real problem was: I was coming after textile businesses next. That’s why people panicked, protested, and promptly got letters from me stating:

“[Enter Pretentious Name and Title Here], in response to your claims that [Enter Sucidial Slander Here], I hereby ban you from all Everwood Empire exports.

We will also ban anyone caught gifting, selling, or trading Everwood Empire exports with you. Moreover, I will ban anyone who buys, sells, or trades anything you make using Everwood Empire exports.

Since I am a king with alliances with most Novenan Kingdoms, I will not hesitate to ban anyone—even dukes—who does business with you.

Regards, King Ryker Everwood, Everwood Empire.”

The result?

Protests. Political pressure. Power plays.

A lot of people got involved, so I sent identical letters to the sheep with the following line attached to it:

“If someone has manipulated you into attacking me, spreading false allegations, or taking action against me, send me a confession with an ink thumbprint next to your signature, and I'll terminate your ban status.”

Confessions. We got a flood of confessions against over two dozen of these assholes within a single week, each proudly stamped with a thumbprint.

It was beautiful.

That drama led to the auction date when Lily and I packed hundreds of clothing items into our skywhale, taking us to Sundell, where Solstice's first all-Earthian auction was being held.

With spatial bags, it didn’t take up that much space. However, we were a symbol and wanted all of our people to know we were on the way to the auction and to arrive in style.

However, I hesitated to leave when I saw Lily squirming in her carriage chair.

“We can delay the departure for you to go to the washroom….” I noted, watching her hyperventilate.

“No!” Lily replied, turning red and turning away, unwilling to make eye contact. “I’m okay.”

“You most certainly do not look okay,” Zenith frowned, her amethyst eyes narrowing.

The light-haired brunette panicked, waving her hands. “It’s not that. It’s just that I’m wearing… panties… and even though they’re under two dresses, I still kinda feel… like a woman.”

Zenith’s eyes widened. “RIGHT?! THEY FEEL SO… GAH! THERE’S NO PROPER WORDS!”

My expression crumbled when I saw the divine wyvern, full of primness and grace, suffer a complete mood reversal.

Exasperated, I turned to Thea and found her face bright red and bashful, making me turn to my spatial bag. With haste, I pulled out two pieces of paper, drew a circle of privacy on each, activated both, and covered my ears with them.

It was a comical display of skill—and it worked.

Dead silence accomplished.

Unfortunately, instead of taking the hint, Zenith and Lily’s eyes lit up, and they seized the opportunity, enthusiastically conversing with questionable hand motions I had to turn my head to ignore.

It was ignoring, but I hadn’t spent a lot of time with Zenith lately, and I missed her company. So I let the eccentric princess talk about… whatever she wanted to talk about, looking out the window.

The sky was peaceful that day, filled with light clouds above that shaded our faces as they passed. For the first time in what felt like forever, Thea, Zenith, and I were together again, and I was at peace.

---

On the outskirts of Eula, a town separating Inspira from Sundell, fifty raiders sat around, mounted on winded beasts adorned in iron armor.

Each man and woman had scars all over their bodies, faces leathery and worn by war, and nervous expressions.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t turn down this request, Rutt?” A female raider asked.

Rutt looked at the woman, wrapped in black leather armor that blended in with the color of her curly hair. “What, are you afraid or somethin’, Bree?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m afraid,” Bree scoffed. “King Everwood ripped a wyvern’s jaw in half with his bare hands. Why aren’t you afraid of that?”

“That’s just superstition,” Rutt replied, putting his palm on his bearded chin and cracking his neck. “Strong, yeah. That’s why people call the Wild Kin—we attack anyone.”

She bit her lip. “But this…. This is different.”

“Relax, Bree,” he huffed, glancing at the fifty raiders. “If we were asked to kill the guy, I’d have refused. I like livin’ as much as anyone. But that’s not the job. We just gotta burn that man’s cargo, and we’re good to go. Now hurry up, we’re runnin’ late.”

Bree gritted her teeth and turned away. “Yes, Boss.”