Alex got a crash course in being comfortable with someone else dressing him. It didn’t work particularly well, and Neya’s assertion that it was not anything she had not seen before did not help.
Neither did Carbon saying the exact same thing when she got out of the shower.
Still, Neya had gotten it done. Alex was now wrapped in a traditional, formal version of the Tsla’o daman, which... was not really his style. The lengths of fabric contained in the multitude of packages were dark red, very nearly brown, and impressively light. The first part to go on, the sa-daman, was effectively a loincloth, reminding him very much of a speedo. The ad-daman came next. It started as a several kilometer long strip of fabric, and was more like a tube top with one wide strap running over his left shoulder, carefully twisted and turned and knotted occasionally. It started just above his belly button and stopped shy of his armpits.
“One would store all manner of items in the ad-daman. Currency, identification, trinkets, idols, charms, small weapons. Even larger weapons, as I believe Carbon stowed the Captain’s sword in hers.” Neya cooed that last bit, eyes shining with delight for a moment as she ushered him to the bed to sit. “Just like the Wandering Blade.”
“That... doesn’t change the fact I’m wearing a tube top.” Sure, pockets in the shirt was a neat idea, but it wasn’t improving his outlook on this particular article of clothing. The exposed midriff was not working for him. Maybe if it went all the way to the waist, it would be more palatable.
“I am wearing a ‘tube top’ and you do not seem to be complaining about it.” Carbon added helpfully, as she was already done with the two main parts on the torso. It appeared to be exactly the same as what Alex was wearing, but in a deep navy blue. Now she was working on wrapping her hand, already halfway done with it. “Nor when Neya wore something similar earlier...”
“I’m not complaining that it exists.” Alex had spent plenty of time as a younger man appreciating its existence, as a matter of fact. He was pretty sure the issue wasn’t that it was traditionally women’s clothes - it was one shoulder away from being a tank top, and he’d just spent a day wearing a makeshift skirt. The more time he had to ruminate on it, the more he found himself gravitating towards the actual problem being the fact that he was being dressed. Like a child, or worse, like royalty. “It’s just not my kind of clothes.”
Neya pulled a chair up and patted her lap. “Foot, please.”
He obliged, and she rested his heel on her knee, staring intently at it with a roll of fabric in her other hand. “I... Think I can make this work.” She did not sound at all like she could, but she set to the task anyway, growing in confidence after the first few loops.
The thinner pieces were treated with something that stuck to itself, but not to his skin, or as it crept up his ankle, his leg hair. It looked like a foot wrap you’d use for kickboxing or other martial arts, but likely would not stand up to that sort of abuse. “Alright, I actually kinda like that.”
“Really?” Carbon sounded surprised.
Which was fair considering he’d mostly kept quiet so far instead of complaining constantly, and she knew him well enough to know that was what he was doing. “Yeah, it looks cool.” He nodded, switching feet when prompted.
Neya started her work again, casting a glance at Carbon.
She picked up what Neya was asking about with a quiet chuckle. “That means it is good.”
“It does.” He agreed, his attention turned to what Carbon was doing now, as she had finished her hand wraps and moved on to the rest of the outfit. Pants first, black with that motif of vines repeated in a shade of plum that barely stood out from it. It sat low on the hips, cinched closed with a length of flat braided rope. Then the boots, supple black leather with floral silver details, the opening running down the outside with buttons and speed hooks to pull it closed. She had them on and laced up like she’d grown up doing that, pants tucked in and bloused.
Neya was wrapping his hands now. It was loosely familiar thanks to a brief interest in boxing as a teen, but the pattern was different. The ‘tape’ here didn’t support much of anything, the overlapping patterns clearly more for show than function. “Why is Carbon’s like that?” He asked, noting that hers were way more simple.
“Because I was doing my own. That style requires two hands.” She said with a shrug as she disappeared into the bathroom, a pile of dark green items fresh from the steam closet draped over an arm.
“I guess I am hogging the help right now.” He watched her separate everything into two stacks, one of which was obviously larger than the other. Alex smirked and snorted a brief laugh as he realized all of it was in British racing green.
“It is for a good reason.” Carbon had the belt out, threading two parts onto it. A sort of inverted house shape split down the middle, and a longer, narrower band. As she put it on the layout fell into place, the wider of the two looking like a coat tail, the split points terminating at her knee, the narrow strip more of a loincloth that went to her shins. Both were embroidered with a simple line in glittering gold thread.
“Done. Do you think you will need assistance with the rest of your regalia?” Neya patted his last hand, finished with all the base layers now.
Alex flexed his hands and looked at the almost glove-like wrapping, running nearly halfway up his forearm. They looked kinda cool, too. Maybe like something a street fighter would wear. “Nah, I think I got it from here. Thank you.”
“Of course.” She said, bowing slightly and stepping away.
The pants were straightforward. They were just pants, though Carbon did step in to tie the rope in a particular knot. His lacked the decoration, but he was new to this. That’d probably come sometime in the future, the thought of which killed the mild enthusiasm he’d managed to work up. He turned his attention to the boots.
There were going to be some stylistic differences, due to the difference in physiology in this area. Their heel was always off the ground, the foot far longer than a Human’s, and all the footwear he’d seen Carbon wear had half as much sole as his. This did not stop the surprise of unveiling what turned out to be a pair of wedge heel boots. It was a pretty significant heel, too, maybe eight or ten centimeters. It would give him a foot angle much closer to what Tsla’o had, which he assumed was the point.
Otherwise, it matched Carbon’s. Black leather, silver adornment. Tiny stars and waves carved into the metal. How had they gotten these made so fast? Did they actually have a cobbler onboard or were these printed all the way through? Probably some combination of the two. Well, whatever. It was a dinner, he wasn’t going to be standing that much anyway. He shrugged and slipped it on. “What the hell.”
He got a pair of curious looks for that.
“Why are there toe sections?” He asked, each one slotted into its own space save for the pinky and ring toes, which had to share a nook. Tsla’o had four toes, so in retrospect... No, he wouldn’t have expected individual toe spaces anyway. It wasn’t uncomfortable, yet, but it was weird.
Neya was the first to respond. “Do your shoes not have that?”
“No, just one open area.” Alex set his mind to just deal with this oddity for the time being, lacing it up like Carbon had done. He knew how a speed hook worked, and there was a very modern latch hidden at the top that held the single lace tight. Novel. Now perfectly well aware of what he was getting himself into, the other boot went on without a hitch.
Everything was going well until he tried to stand up and found out all that heel was soft foam. Alex lost his balance and pitched back onto the bed with a startled yell, ultimately glad that he was sitting there instead of at the table or on that hard wooden bench. He laid there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “So uh. Nobody else uses their heel around here, I guess?”
“Are you hurt?” Carbon rushed over to the bed to check on him, worry laced through her voice.
“Nah, all I hit was pillows.” He sat back up and stood up again with a bit more caution this time. Yeah, he was going to have to have a discussion about what works for human feet with whoever made these. If he was careful, he could lean back a little and not pitch over now that he knew what to expect. “So, how important are the boots?”
“They are a part of the regalia, so... fairly important.” Carbon said, Neya nodding in agreement.
“So no substituting them for something less like to land me in sickbay?” He looked over, and down, at her.
“If you earnestly believe you are in danger, we can substitute something.” She didn’t sound like this was a good trade off. It was official high level stuff, after all. There were expectations that didn’t involve showing up in sneakers.
Alex shifted his weight back and forth, resting on the balls of his feet and seeing how hard it would be to adapt to that. “Hey, last night, you asked me if I was self conscious about being tall. Is there like a cultural issue about height?”
“Not significantly, I had just noticed you seem taller than many other Humans.” She shook her head, getting back on her feet and only coming up to his shoulder now.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Alright.” He was rapidly convincing himself to wear the boots anyway, even if they were hard to walk in. “So I’ve gotten the impression that some folks have a, shall we say, less than kind impression of Humans. What was it, like wild animals among the stars? I’m the tallest person in the room already, but with these things I’m pushing two meters. How does towering over everyone else like that play into those stereotypes?”
Carbon was pondering that in earnest, claws extended as she idly stroked her chin with them, staring off into the distance.
Meanwhile, Neya had started to develop the most evil grin he had ever seen on a Tsla’o about halfway through his question. Utterly wicked by the time he’d finished speaking. “Oh. Those self-absorbed pieces of-”
“Neya.” Carbon held a hand out to her. “I agree with Neya’s sentiment if not her choice of words. I am sure that the Empress has invited people who have avoided you so far. If they still believe Humans to be brutes, despite all of what has been done for us, finding themselves staring up at a giant will be a shocking experience. And if you carry yourself with Tsla’o decorum at the same time... They will find it a particularly difficult hill to climb.”
“Alright, that sounds fun.” At least he’d be entertained, while fulfilling his role as chaos agent for Eleya. He returned to the task of getting dressed, the belt with the weird combination of coat tails and loincloth flap in place, and then the final piece - an asymmetrical vest. Same color and gold details as the rest of the outer layer, held closed with a trio of gold buttons, but only going over the left shoulder. The entire right shoulder was exposed, his rather obvious bite mark on display. “So is this the newlywed version? Do we get sleeves in the future or something?”
“It is, yes.” Carbon was practically beaming, so pleased that he figured that out. “We would wear these for perhaps a year, then they will be displayed in our true home, when we decide on one.”
That was kind of interesting, even if he felt silly wearing all of this. For a year. Neya was just waiting for something to do, so he called her back with a wave. “Check me over, everything on straight? Looking properly regalia-like?”
She adjusted the blouse on his pants, straightened the buckle on the belt, checked the golden studs in the helix of his ear, and gave him the all clear.
“Thanks. So, let’s go over how I should be acting during this little shindig. If I’m going to play the part, I want to make sure it’s going to land. Dinner etiquette was pretty easy, what else should I be prepared for?”
There was about an hour and a half to kill before the dinner and they spent most of it giving him a rundown on what was expected of him outside of how to behave at the table. Nothing seemed to be particularly alien, but they are both social species. As a high ranking member of the court, he was actually expected to mingle less than a mere senator or governor. People would be allowed to approach him. So they could, to a certain extent, pick and choose who had direct access. It would be suspicious if he were to exclude anyone so early in his royal career - though he could keep meetings short.
Before they left the cabin, there was one last item to wear. A lightweight cloak in raw, densely woven fiber of some sort, completely unadorned save for a simple wooden hook to hold it closed. The very definition of what a commoner would wear, except hundreds of years ago and not on a spaceship. He slipped his external translator on, slinging it over one shoulder under the cloak. It felt a little bit like he was going to an alien renaissance festival now.
They got a lot of looks on the tram. Wherever they were going was past the conference rooms, and each batch of people that got on went through the same routine: they’d spot him and stop, and look up with startled eyes. He’d smile politely, give them a carefully measured nod, and they’d look down and see all the fancy clothes peeking out from under the cloak. Then they’d notice Carbon standing next to him and everything would click into place for them. The reaction there varied. Most nodded politely back before they went along their way, a few even smiled. The rest were at least wise enough to not respond negatively to the giant Human and his remarkably violent wife.
Alex and Carbon made their way to a waiting room, the cloaks apparently only for travel as they were immediately taken by an overly polite hostess and hung up. They went over everything again and found that he’d retained just about everything on the first try, despite it being something he was so viscerally disinterested in.
Colonel Lhenan and the Sergeant arrived shortly thereafter, as Carbon was quizzing him about table manners again. They had much more formal jackets on now, charcoal fabric with a high, heavily decorated collar and double row of silver buttons running down the front. All of their rank insignia was stitched in silver, and a substantial column of awards kept Lhenan from floating away.
Carbon excused herself again to speak with the Colonel. The last time they had to catch up was spent finding out they were using stolen hardware, which really doesn’t count.
Alex stayed put in a nearly Human sized chair, sitting carefully to ensure he wouldn’t crease his finery. Fortunately for him, Sergeant Zhensen was quite the chatterbox.
"It's humorous you should mention that. I have found that taking a casual demeanor with Humans, even those in your- in their military, puts them at ease. Most curious indeed, as they all know that I'm military as well." She leaned back in her chair and gesticulated as she spoke, contractions slipping into her English after she learned that Alex wasn’t much for formalities.
“Really? That’s kind of surprising. I always get stink-eye when I act too casual.” Alex had shut his translator off, the delay annoying when he was talking to someone who spoke English well. Only took a second to power it back up anyway.
She took a drink of water and smiled, setting her glass down on the table between them. “From officers, yes?”
Alex drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Yeah, actually. Enlisted personnel don’t seem to mind as much.”
“Is that not curious?” Zhensen glanced over at the Colonel and then back to Alex with a knowing look. “I’ve come to think there are many similarities between our people, more than most would acknowledge.”
“I’ve come to that same conclusion, actually.” He was sure Carbon had, as well.
Stana rolled the base of her glass on the table, watching him intently. “That is good. As I said earlier, there is dissent among the military about you... it is quiet, but it is there. Were you Tsla’o, none would speak ill of you, but since you are not they feel it gives them an excuse to decide how the Empress should make decisions.”
Alex took his time digesting that. “And what do you think?”
“She did not become the Empress by accident.” She shrugged, taking another drink. “I also feel it deeply unwise to question someone once called Kshanevo.”
“Translator’s off, what’s that mean?” He was sure he’d heard the root of that before. Anev. It reminded him of the name of the first ship Carbon had served on, as well. Hadn’t it been a battleship? Or was it a dreadnought...
She took a moment to consider the best translation for him. “It is, hm... Butcher. You know. Someone who cuts up meat.”
“Butcher?” He was just a little incredulous. Then a little less so as he recalled being shown her memory of torturing a man for information by gouging his eyes out. Thumbs sinking into hot, gela- Alex interrupted himself with a quiet dry heave. “Oh okay.”
“It was a dark time after the Emperor was assassinated. I had not been born yet, but I work with some who were there.” Zhensen gestured towards the Colonel. She was very nonchalant about this, none of which had made it to Alex before. “She killed the assassin herself, did you know? Stabbed him to death in the street with his own weapon. Had the Keslon Shen all hunted down and executed. I am told the river running through the citadel was choked with blood and ash the next time it rained.”
That certainly changed his view of Eleya. “Are you putting me on?”
“No, I would not.” She finished off her water. “Unless you ordered me to, then it would be my duty.”
“No... Just...” Alex shook his head. That was too close to talking about some wholesale executions to be making jokes. “I didn’t really see that kind of thing in her.”
“They were a blight on the western lands and her actions have always been just, before and since.” She considered her empty glass and shrugged again. “I believe her reaction was so violent because of grief. They were very close, much closer than many Royal couples before them.”
“Huh.” Alex felt like he should have more to say, but that was all he could really muster at the moment. Zhensen's words reminded him of how Tashen spoke about Eleya and Carbon.
“Indeed. Do you want more water?” She indicated his glass, nearly untouched.
“No. No, thank you.”
Her head dipped in assent and she stood, wandering over to the bar nestled in the corner.
At least that explained why no one ever mentioned the Emperor, despite the marking that Eleya wore that indicated she was entwined. He had been curious about that, but there had just been so much going on the last few days that he had forgotten to ask about it.
Alex’s introspection was cut short when Tashen opened the door and stepped inside. He was looking pretty good for somebody that had been beaten so badly a few days ago, not a single scar on his face from those metal-capped gloves. The secretary looked them over and seemed relieved for a moment before he ushered Eleya in. Alex stood and flipped on his translator. Everyone was finally here, the event seemed to be ready to get underway.
“The other guests have arrived and are seated.” Tashen singled out the Colonel and sergeant Zhensen, directing them to the door that led to the dining hall. “Honored military guests, please. You will be announced lowest rank first.”
The two of them lined up as instructed, Tashen fussing over them for a moment before he sent them on their way. As they departed the waiting room the Sergeant gave Alex a nod and possibly a wink. If it was, he wasn’t sure how he should take it.
“Dearest niece," Eleya said, pleasant though reserved, her eyes lingering on the proof of entwinement on Carbon’s shoulder "Would you take your seat first? I think it would be wise to have the young prince be seen at our sides.” She was as smooth as she always was, any indication of the altercation between her and Carbon invisible.
“I would, and I concur. It would be wise.” Carbon gave her a shallow bow and turned, a sly smile on her face as she glanced at Alex before disappearing down the hallway.
“Alex... Dearest nephew.” Eleya closed on him, smoothing his jacket out and looking him over, also spending some time inspecting the bite mark he was sporting. “You wear this better than I had expected. I am pleased with that.”
Alex's mind wouldn't stop flipping between thinking about Eleya stabbing someone to death and her memory of gouging out someone's eyes. He laughed uneasily. “Yeah, it’s actually pretty comfortable, except for the boots. Absolutely killing my calves.”
“We all suffer for tradition. This... This throws everything off.” She shook her head and slipped his translator off his shoulder, handing it off to one of her body guards before he could grab it back. The device disappeared as it was covered by the cloaking field. “That is perfect.”
“But... Look, not everyone is supposed to know about-”
Eleya reached up and pressed a finger to his lips with a smile. “I told you that you would do things for me and this is one. Keep your secret and listen. I am curious to know what others say when they do not know you can hear... Are you not?”