My old friend has left me plenty to work with. The devices he left behind have clear orders, and the theories he left me with have given me a clear goal. To anyone reading this. Make sure the
-Logbook of The Grand Scientist
For the northwestern clique, it wasn't hard to put two together. Finding out I am going through a growth spurt, only have the school uniform, and Spetsnaz clothing. They quickly figured out that I don't have formal attire to attend fancy meetings. I am no stranger to fancy meetings, as being the most communicative of my old team often had them push me to do explaining to command. There were even a few times we had to act as bodyguards for important folk, sometimes it was even playing actual bodyguard instead of assassins in disguise.
Unfortunately, that's neither here nor there. I am currently being dragged through the town by socialite powerhouses, each with their own reason for wanting to stuff me in something 'cute'. However, if I know anything of royal dresses and them being 'cute' I am going to have a hard time stuffing plates under them. It was a hassle enough to do so with school uniforms.
"You know Esstrey, you didn't have to come in full war-gear." Nylchai points at my crossbow, and my shovel. This is hardly gear to fight a war in. it's more like sleepwear.
"Like I'm gonna be caught dead without them. I am not as effective with magic as you guys are." Alice raises an eyebrow at my words. No doubt still questioning why she is still hanging out at our little clique.
"You better not act like that at the ball, it would look bad on me if one of my main opponents looks like a buffoon." That would explain why she wants to stuff me in formal attire as well at least. It would look pretty bad for all my enemies if a showed up like a raving lunatic. Now I just need to figure out why Cathy cares.
"That place looks [good/fine/acceptable]." She says it like a suggestion, but moves my wheelchair while dragging Kyla along hard. Jalaha came along as well, who seems to be suffering even more than I am. Apparently in Mazurio they don't really do balls, but the Queen had apparently always fantasized about going to one. At least someone is having the time of their life right now.
The store clerk is scared shitless as a small gang of highly important murderers waltz right in. He's clearly weighing his options between helping us, calling the guard and simply dying on the spot. Unfortunately for him, he is too scared to do the first, the second won't help him, and he lacks the equipment to do the third. So he gets banished to Limbo along with Jalaha. Eternally waiting for something to happen.
Cathy is immediately heading towards a section with... servants clothing? I guess she really likes the aesthetic. Alicia and Kyla team up, and proceed to dig through a section with highly expensive clothing. Nylchai in the meantime has ambushed on of the seamstresses who was unfortunate enough to wander the store unattended. No doubt asking for a custom design. Well, might as well check through the selection before others check for me.
This one wouldn't be able to carry plates, this one is too easy to spot, this one has a corset. I start sifting through the clothes rapidly, but everything I find is absolutely terrible for hiding anything bigger than a dagger. My eyes wander through the store, and they go over Jalaha for a bit, who is talking to the store clerk. He is carrying a scimitar, which is surprisingly well hidden in his... fancy clothes. I stealthily roll over to Jalaha who actually looks a lot better than he did at entry. Right up until he hears my wheelchair.
His shock is short-lived, as a large claw grabs him by the wrist, and pulls him to his doom. He tries to get some last words out, and reaches for the clerk, but it is for naught as the clerk is too terrified to move.
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"Congratulations soldier! You are hereby being drafted for the eastern front." Or at least, I'm rather sure that the men's clothing section is at the eastern part of the store. Still sputtering, Jalaha is unable to resist my grip, especially since I'm shoving water behind my wheelchair for locomotion.
"Au! Au! Au! You are crushing my wrist, please stop!" I acquiesce, and let go of his hand.
"Help me find clothes worth a damn, and I'll save you from Kyla wanting to drag you off for fashion opinions." His annoyed expression get replaced with a pondering expression, before nodding with a determined look. As expected to be among the fears of a mortal man.
I check the men's clothing, which does end up being better, but most of it still gives me the vibes of posh noble pansies. At least I could hide plates and weapons in these. Jalaha seems to notice my mild disgust with the articles, and actually points me to a separate section with a big imperial flag marking it. Why would Jalaha show me thes- oh. This might actually work.
"Jalaha! Can you come here and tell me if this dress makes my horns look big?" A voice of doom sounds across the store, but I do not fail to deliver on my promise.
"He's currently busy helping me pick something! You should ask Nylchai!" Quickly throwing a fish to the sharks in the process as well, I will need that seamstress soon. A relieved looking Jalaha points towards some of the more interesting looking wear in this section. This is perfect for what I need. Taking the piece to the released seamstress, who briefly looks at me like I'm her savior. Although I wouldn't say savior, more like new management.
"I need this fitted for me, and I will also need all imperial heraldry ripped off, and replace it with this." I bring out the Spetsnaz patch I kept in my pocket. No way in hell am I leaving that with the people refitting my gear.
"A-are you sure? That doesn't loo-" I interrupt her complaints with a glare.
"When can you get it done?" The seamstress looks to the clerk for help, who ponders for a bit and signals two on his hand.
"We can get it done in two days."
"Good. I will probably be bigger by then, so please make them using these measurements." I write down the size I predict I will be in a week. They give me some odd looks at that, but don't question it further.
The others finish up as well, we all leave the store, much to the relief of the staff and Jalaha. The gaggle of foreign officials making its way through the streets, terrifying more passerby's, but the fun has to end at some point when I hear a shoe step on a roof tile through the crowd of people.
"We are being followed." Alicia, Jalaha and Nylchai give me odd looks, only for Kyla to elaborate.
"Yeah they have been following us for a while, I think they are the academy personnel that has been following our class around keeping us safe. These are a bit more obvious than the ones back at the academy." We were getting followed within the academy as well? That's actually not that surprising, but a group of people following another group so shoddily doesn't smell like a protection detail.
"We are confronting them. This whole affair reeks of assassin rat bastards." I signal for Cathy to turn me one-eighty to face the roof, at least one of them is on. I am rewarded by locking eyes on a man that thinks he's invisible peeking back.
"Alright, let's head into an alley to make sure no one else gets cau-" I cut off Alicia by pulling out my crossbow, and nail one of the stalkers right in the nogging through the eye.
"You little rats can come out now! The next one won't miss either!" Confusion turns to shock turns to fear, as a corpse falls from a rooftop, and people start calling for the guards all around us. Some figures around us notably aren't fazed while men with crossbows of their own appear on the rooftops.
"Esstrey, what the fuck! Are you trying to get us in trouble?" Alicia is clearly not happy with my handling of the situation. I respond by reloading.
"A hidden protection detail wouldn't reveal weapons if I were to kill one of them. Kill them all." Before the men on the rooftops can respond, black magic hits them all like a barrage, melting flesh from bone. An attack I remember, Kyla used the same stuff against Lebedev. This time less restrained, because we aren't in a populated building.
As people quickly get away from us, and guards are already approaching, I take note of the few that aren't running. There are two groups of heavily armed and armored eccentrics. Most likely the famous adventurers I have heard so much about, and a few scattered civilians that look on with a more calculating look than any sane individual would have. So that's our hidden protection detail. One of them notices me looking, so I simply wink at him.
"Well that's done. Anyone up for lunch?" I get no response.