A bell rang over Brando's head as he pushed open the door. Fin followed behind, taking in the large room. To say the least, it was underwhelming. Four racks of dangling sets of clothing sat in four neat rows, sparsely decorated with hanging pants, tunics, and jackets. Several boxed-in shelves held more garments, but other than that, the place was empty.

Fin looked at Brando in a way that asked, "Are you sure we are in the right place?" when a voice startled both of their attention from each other.

"Hello, and welcome to Kris and Bert Apparel," A woman standing in the center of the barren shop greeted. She was elderly with a slight hunch to her stance.

A man holding a pair of large scissors walked out, and when he noticed how Brando was dressed, he led the woman reluctantly away. "Hello, my name is Bert. How can I help you two gentlemen today?"

"For starters, I need pants," Brando waved his hands over his legs. "After that, we'll probably need to find somewhere with more of a selection. We were told that this place would have everything we need."

"I suppose that poses the question, what do you need exactly?" The man tucked his scissors into one of his many pockets and gestured toward one of the four racks. "Feel free to browse our wares. If you find something with the fabric or style you like, I will be able to produce a fitting pair in no time." He cleared his throat, "Would I need to recommend some undershorts before we begin?"

Brando nodded and then pointed an accusatory finger toward Fin. "He needs some too."

Bert led them to one of the shelves that held a single style of undershorts in various colors, prints, and fabrics. When Fin and Brando selected their preferred pairs, Bert disappeared in the back and returned in a quick fashion with two neatly folded piles in his hands. One of them was a dark gray, and the other had a jaguar print.

"How much are these?" Fin asked, taking the small stack of dark gray undershorts.

After Bert ascertained they were paying separately, he pointed towards the stack Fin was holding and said, "Forty for the gray ones and a silver ten for the others."

"We'll take them," Brando said, disregarding the fact he was paying nearly triple the cost for his. After slipping a pair on under his bathrobe, he untied his drawstring to see how they looked. "If Cynthia saw me wearing these, I don't know, Fin. I might have been the one who has to fight her."

Surprisingly, Bert didn't seem affected by the comment. "I'm assuming you two are here to try your hand at the mine. If you direct yourselves to the farthest rack, we have a sturdier selection for you to choose from."

"The sturdier, the better," Brando said, walking towards the rack with his jaguar shorts peeking through his open robe. "But we've already done the mine thing. Somewhat successfully, I might add."

"You cleared the mine?" Bert asked, incredulous. "I apologize. I figured there would be celebrations, fanfare, and reckless parties in the street."

"These two cleared the mine?" The elderly woman, presumably Kris, reentered the room.

"I think there might be a misunderstanding," Fin said. "We don't know anything about a mine around here."

"It's a dwarven mine, or at least it used to be," Kris started, drinking in Brando's figure.

"I'll tell them about the mine," Bert said, handing Kris his pair of scissors. "You have things to cut in the back. The city's mine has been overrun with these creatures," Burt said, watching Kris retreat into the back. "The mine has been unusable for over four generations. The king made a royal proclamation that whoever clears the mine could have whatever he or she wanted."

"Is there a limit to what you can ask for?" Brando asked, holding a pair of leather pants up to him. "Also, do you have these in a bigger size?"

Bert pulled out a rope with lines on it and quickly assessed Brando's size. He wrapped the rope around Brando's waist several times and held it lengthwise down his legs. "It's funny, you should ask. The king more than implied one could ask for his daughter's hand in marriage. He mentioned it in one of his more famous proclamations. Since then, mercenaries have flooded in from all over. Can you imagine going from mercenary to royal consort? Once word got out, the city hasn't been the same."

"How does she feel about that?" Fin asked, inspecting his own rack of clothes. "The princess."

"I am not sure. Excuse me one moment," Bert took Brando's pants and walked to the back. He returned a moment later with empty hands. "She shouldn't take long. Anyway, with the influx of travelers coming to try their hand at the mine, businesses have grown more than ever. Sometimes I wonder if we're better off if the mine isn't conquered."

Fin found some clothes he liked and gave them to Bert. Bert took some measurements and whisked them away.

Kris came out holding two pairs of pants towards Brando. "I couldn't help but notice you might fit some pants that I've embroidered. I do it for fun mostly, but I think this might suit you."

Brando took the pants and inspected them. As skilled as he was at leatherwork, the quality and detail astounded him. "This is incredible!" Brando praised, holding up the stitch work for Fin to see. "I'll take them both."

Kris curtsied and ran off into the back, avoiding eye contact.

"Do you want to check out the mine?" Brando asked before tossing Fin the pair of pants he thought he had been interested in. "There could be a princess involved. I know how much you love high-maintenance women."

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

"My parents tried to arrange a marriage for me back home. Well, my mother did anyway. If the king's daughter feels anything like how I felt, marrying her would not be an act of love." Fin looked at the pants Brando had tossed to him. They were a dark red fabric inlaid with a soft, cool material. "These look a little too…"

"They look perfect," Brando said, finishing Fin's thought. "I married for love twice. It doesn't work. You should marry for something more practical, like money. At least you know what's going to happen when it runs out."

"Brando, that's probably the most depressing and jaded thing I've ever heard you say." Fin looked at the pants he was holding. "Fine, I'll get the pants. You've crushed my soul into not caring anymore."

"That's the spirit," Brando said, picking up his pile of clothes. "You should probably get a matching tunic."

When they each had two sets of clothing they were interested in, they brought them to the counter in the center. Bert folded the clothes and tied them off into neat, little packages.

"It comes to three silver and fifty-five for the young sir and five silver and ten for the gentleman who got my wife all excited by coming in wearing a bathrobe," Bert said cheerlessly.

"My name is Brando."

"I'm sure she will be delighted to know."

Fin pulled out his and Brando's coins and set them on the table.

When Bert returned their change, they both took their wrapped packages and walked out of the shop looking like new men.

Fin wore simple gray pants and a blue tunic. The clothes felt light and easy to move in. His matching-red outfit was wrapped in a cloth bundle neatly tied under a twine bow.

Brando wore black leather pants with a brown horse stretched out in a running pose over his pelvic girdle. He tucked his white tunic in the front, covering the tips of the horse's nose and tail.

"That was fun," Brando said, walking out into the middle of the street. "Do you want to go see if the castle is taking visitors?"

"Sure," Fin replied. "Let's go drop off our packages first."

"Just stow them away, and let's go," Brando said, offering Fin his bags.

"It doesn't work like that," Fin admitted. "I think it has to do with size, not weight. If I rolled up the undershorts into a ball, I could probably stow them. I just can't do anything with the rest."

Brando stood motionless as Fin's words sank in. Finally, he let out a sigh, "Fine. We'll go to the Hornblower first. I'm going to start considering how we can upgrade your lesser stow to a full, pack-mule stow. How did you get this one again?"

Fin explained how he wasn't quite sure how he got the ability, but it was after he slept with the gems in his hovel. Brando came up with multiple ideas on how to achieve 'pack mule status' while they walked to the Hornblower.

After dropping off their packages, the castle wasn't hard to find. They followed Castle Road until they got there.

The castle's spires stabbed through the tops of buildings like sharpened lances. When it came into view, the castle looked like delicate art carved from a broad fortress. Surrounding the castle, stone sculptures stood in junctions that connected thick metal bars protecting the royal palace in decadence.

The gardens surrounding the castle marked the first circular landscape feature they had seen since arriving In Clive Rae. Multiple flagstone walkways encompassed the castle on which pairs of guards marched slowly in even intervals around.

"Fin, I'm concerned," Brando said with a small voice. "I've never been to a castle before."

"And I have?" Fin's voice was equally small. "I'm a potato farmer. One of us has to take the lead on this, and I don't think that person is me."

"Okay, I have a plan," Brando said, determination overcoming his disquiet. "I'll try taking the lead, but if I give you the signal, it's your show."

"Okay, what's the signal?" Fin asked.

"I'll elbow you in the arm."

When they reached the first of what seemed like multiple checkpoints of entry, an official standing between two sturdy guards hailed them, "Mercs can only visit the first of the week."

Brando nudged Fin's arm, so he spoke, "We are not mercs. We have a pressing issue that the king will be most interested in hearing."

"If you want to report an offense, the office of the city guard is in the town square," the official replied stoically.

"This is not an offense," Fin said, speaking about how he felt his father would in this situation. "We have a pressing mission that requires his majesty's support."

"We are a diplomatic envoy coming to address delicate but pressing matters," Brando blurted out.

Fin looked at him, astonished at the lie that could probably get them both killed.

"Diplomatic envoy, you say?" the official's face didn't show a hint of surprise. "Where, may I ask, where are you a diplomatic envoy from?"

Fin looked at Brando in a way that said, "Yeah, where are we diplomats from, you giant dunce?"

"Rudford," Brando said with a straight posture.

"Ah, you'll have to forgive me," the official said, mirroring Brando's posture. "I wasn't briefed on your arrival. I am Taddus, and I can escort you in."

"Please," Brando gestured towards the locked gates.

With a nod from Taddus, the gates opened, and the two followed him through.