“Mesdames et Messieurs, welcome one and all. I am Chance Eaupéril, the Gallant Cynosure. I have traveled the length of the Kingdom, all the way from the Capital, to visit you today. To confess, I actually hate traveling. It's hot and it’s windy. Rain and snow storms can sneak up on you without warning. You get covered with dust from the road, it's coarse and grainy and it gets everywhere. Traveling across the Kingdom is a huge challenge undertaken only by the most brave and hardy of individuals.

But I don't travel because I enjoy it. I do it for you mes amis. I do it because I have a moral duty that only someone as selfless as I can complete. And today it is my responsibility, Nay! It is my pleasure to showcase for you the finest fashions in the four Kingdoms!”

Chance Eaupéril strutted his way down the middle of the Convention Hall stage as the crowd erupted with applause all around him. A silk cape as wide as the stage itself and sewn in seven shades of red billowed behind him. The collar of the cape was starched solid and extended so high that it cut off Chance’s peripheral vision.

(Two mermaids working blacksmith bellows kept pace in front of him as he moved.)

Chance made his way to the edge of the stage. Two massive arc lamps mounted on the catwalk above illuminated him.

The Blue Haired Lady waited a little off to the side of the stage. As Chance made his waves and bows to the crowd she stepped up and moved to his side.

“Master Eaupéril we are so pleased that you could join us today.” she said.

“And I love being in front of a crowd, Lady Starling!”

Lady Starling put on a friendly-looking smile. “I know that the seamstress union was excited to attend your show. But unfortunately most of them had trouble getting tickets to your event. It seems like most of the seats were purchased by tourists and third party resellers.”

Chance made a show of flapping his crimson cape.

(“Don’t stop blowing.”)

(The two mermaids wiped sweat from their foreheads as they kept squeezing their bellows.)

“You needn’t have any préoccupations my dear Ms Starling.” Chance rambled on. “I have personally brought with me the most exciting collection of haute couture that this city has ever seen. No one will leave here disappointed. They shall spread word of my indelible genius throughout the city. By nightfall everyone will be aware of my indicible clothing line.”

Lady Starling cracked her knuckles. “We’re all looking forward to a good show. If nothing else.”

Chance leaned over next to her. “By the way if you’re looking for a better hair dye I can recommend some colors.”

>:(

#

“Plinth! Plinth, you have to promise me. If I die, don’t let me be buried in anything that these people would recommend.”

Plinth, Cophin, and Lux were seated on the outer edge of the convention floor. Tourists filled the seating of the convention hall in every direction. Plinth and Lux were sitting up so that they could get a good view of the stage. Cophin was slouched so far down in his seat he was almost lying on the floor.

Down on the stage Chance’s voice boomed out over the audience. “And you will hop with excitement for this next outfit.”

A woman wearing a set of kangaroo ears, a long felt tail, and an apron with an exaggerated pocket stepped out on stage.

The crowd applauded.

“What do you think of that one?” Plinth asked.

Lux watched the people on stage. “The tail would be troublesome for one of our line cooks but I do love the apron. Do you think something like that would work with the Galaxy Lip’s current theme?”

“Of course. Maybe you could even have the server wear an ‘asteroid belt’?” Plinth smiled.

“Ha ha ha. Plinth you always have the best ideas.” Lux laughed.

“Groan…” Cophin slouched down even further.

Lux glanced over. “Come on Cophin. As restaurateurs it is our responsibility to provide an exceptional experience for our diners. Meaningful and coordinated uniforms are a part of that experience. Don't you feel better when you see everyone all working together and wearing the same thing? Everyone and everything in blessed conformity.” Lux’s hands rubbed together like he was trying to start a fire.

“No! I feel disgusted. Tha appearance of a restaurant should be immaterial. The only thing that anyone should care about is how tha food tastes.” Cophin squeezed his hand like a claw in front of his face.

“I have never seen any reason why the two things should be mutually exclusive. My servers are trained in both customer service and plating. Each of their uniforms are summon-sized by a personal tailor. Quality can only carry you so far Cophin. At a certain point you must engage in self promotion in order to-”

“I will be cold and in tha grave before I ever let anything other than my cooking speak for me.”

#

“Sit up straight.” Champ Letterman said to his son.

Jack was hunched over in his seat furiously digging through a messenger bag he had open on the ground.

“Hold on. Where is it?” Jack jammed his fist into the bottom of the bag.

“Jack! We don’t have time for this. Lady House could show up at any moment. I want to make a good impression. To show her that we are men of culture. That means the two of us, sitting quietly in our seats watching whatever is going on down there on the stage.” Mayor Letterman hissed out of the side of his mouth.

Jack looked up and pointed over the railing of their box seats at the stage of the Convention Hall. “But that’s Chance Eaupéril! The greatest scofflaw our town has ever known. When are we ever going to get the opportunity to be this close to him? We need to serve him his tax adjustments so we can finally settle all of the accounts that his family owes our town.”

The Mayor took out a tiny comb and smoothed down the hair on the sides of his head. “Good luck. The last time I tried he floated out of town on a rowboat.”

“No chance of that this time. We’ve got him right in the middle of a crowd on stage.” Jack said.

“Hmmm.” His father frowned.

“Just give me a minute. I’m trying to get the paperwork in order.” Jack looked over his shoulder. “Ted! Where are the tax reclamation ascent forms?”

Ted was seated behind Jack in the convention hall. He shuffled a series of loose papers in his hands. “I don’t think we bought any.”

Jack *Slammed* his fist down on the elbow rest.

“Jumping jellyfish! We need those forms. Mr Eaupéril reclassified his property as an animal preserve on his yearly tax forms. We need to relabel his record within the next six months or the property will be overrun by racoons and then we’ll never get any money from him.”

Stolen novel; please report.

Mayor Letterman fiddled with the nutcracker hung around his neck. “You’re right.”

“I am?” Jack looked up.

“We’re never going to get any money out of him.” The Mayor leaned back in his seat.

“Not with that attitude we won’t. Ted!” Jack shouted.

“Yes?” Ted looked up.

“Find a scrivener! Lady House must have an accounting department. Get copies of those forms for me. I’m going to try and see if I can stall him.”

“I’m on it!”

Ted jumped up and ran out of the box seats and down the hallway of the Convention Hall.

#

“But don’t go anywhere just yet. We’ve got lots more fashions to show you.”

Chance Eaupéril made a gesture on stage. The lights of the Convention Hall dimmed slightly. Chance lowered his hands. The audience got quieter.

“Folks. I want to be sincere with you. We live in uncertain times. And in these uncertain times. What could be more important… than quality aquarium insurance?”

Chance wheeled around and pointed into the audience.

“You there!”

“Me?”

A spotlight focused in on the Impatient Tourist sitting in the front row.

“Don't you hate it when your prized fish suddenly dies and you keep summoning the wrong replacements? So you keep tossing useless fish out the window and now the neighbors are complaining that the local owls are coughing up fishbones?”

“I do hate that!” the Tourist shouted back at the stage.

“Everyone does! That's why the Poisson Mortel fish trainers association is dedicated to making sure that you have the finest and most reliable aquarium insurance in the four kingdoms.”

Dancers wearing costumes that made them look like smallmouth bass began sweeping down the aisles.

Lights swirled around Chance on stage.

“You know what they say,

Each and every day,

If quality is your wish,

Then bring us your dead fish.”

#

“I can't take much more of this. He's still selling promotions. How can a man with so much confidence have so little backbone.” Cophin rolled his eyes.

“What incredible fish costumes. And he’s using them as part of the promotion! A wonderful synergy of advertising and artistic expression. This Eaupéril man is a real genius.” Lux clapped with the rest of the audience.

Cophin stood up

“I need a drink.”

“I'll come with you.” Plinth got up from his seat. “Lux, do you want anything?”

“Sparkling water if they have it.”

“If they don't I’ll grab a green on the way back.”

“Thank you Plinth. Look at that! A prawn costume. I should have opened a seafood restaurant. Is it too late to rebrand, I wonder?” Lux continued to watch the show.

Cophin and Plinth wandered out into the hallways of the convention center. They made their way up to a veranda overlooking the Convention Hall stage. The two of them walked over to a bar counter through a crowd of tourists.

Cophin waved a hand at the Veiled Mixologist that was stationed on the other side of the counter. “One low grade sedative please.”

The bartending alchemist nodded. “Very good sir. Are you aware that consuming alcohol on an empty stomach can reduce your cognitive-”

“Yes. Yes. I’m aware. I’m a chef. I know tha whole warning.”

“Very good sir. And do you have a note from your personal alchemist for sedatives?”

Cophin pointed a thumb over his shoulder at Plinth. “He’s my alchemist.”

Plinth shrugged.

The Veiled Mixologist shrugged. “I’m only doing my job sir.”

Cophin impatiently *Tap*Tap*Tapped* a finger on the counter.

“Flavor?” the bartender asked.

“No flavor.”

The bartender wiped a glass. “Are you sure? You only want a plain sedative?”

“That’s right.”

“I should mention that we are out of unflavored alcohol.”

Cophin pressed his palms flat against the smooth wood of the bar countertop. “Then I guess you can summon some. That is part of your training isn’t it?”

“It is sir. However… I should mention that anything I summon will taste like lavender.”

“Lavender?”

The Veiled Mixologist nodded. “That’s right sir. Everything I pull is going to taste like lavender if you don’t order any flavor infusions. I’ve never been able to figure it out. It always happens. Even my master at the Curatory was stumped by it.”

“Then it’s a good thing that I like tha taste of lavender.” Cophin frowned at the bartender. The edge of his teeth peeked out of the corner of his mouth.

The bartender shrugged.

Plinth leaned on the counter. “And I’ll take a brandy, aged at least two years, in a bourbon or whiskey barrel, with a light fruit profile.”

The bartender nodded.

“And sparkling water.” Plinth added.

The liquid alchemist set to work behind the counter. The bartender selected a blue gemstone from a large container behind the bar. With a quick *Sizzle* of magic a weak solution filled a drinking glass sitting on top of the bar. The bartender slid the lavender scented booze across to Cophin.

Cophin took a sip, stopping himself from twisting his face in disgust.

The Veiled Mixologist didn’t notice or didn’t care and went back to cleaning a glass behind the counter.

Cophin and Plinth placed their drinks on the counter. They looked out into the Convention Hall.

Cophin scratched his knuckles. He tapped his pinky on the counter of the bar. “You still agree that we don’t need uniforms.” he said to Plinth.

“I agree that I’ve never disagreed with you on that.” Plinth looked over the railing of the veranda at the stage below.

“That’s right. We’re not a restaurant that needs promotion after all. Just because we’ve gotten a little more popular in tha last few days, that’s no reason for us to change tha principles our restaurant was founded on.” Cophin tapped his foot on the floor.

“You have my full support.” Plinth said.

“It wouldn’t make any difference anyway. We would still be competing with Lux and tha Galaxy Lip after all.”

“When you’re right, you’re right.”

“Good. Glad we’re in agreement.”

Cophin watched the alchemist carefully fill a pipette with brandy from a large oak barrel behind the bar.

“And even if we were going ta get uniforms it certainly wouldn’t be from a self-serving sycophant like that Eaupéril gentleman.” Cophin rubbed his chin with a hand.

Plinth *Slapped* him on the shoulder. “Listen my friend, we are in complete alignment on that idea. That man’s fashion presentation is like a tin can full of spoons.”

Cophin raised a crooked eyebrow in confusion.

“Noisy, and without any strong points.” Plinth chuckled.

“Heh ha ha.” someone laughed behind them. “That was very good. An astute observation if I ever heard one.”

An older man stepped out of the crowd behind Plinth and Cophin. He had a wrinkled face and was wearing a white robe.

“You know they say that the mother of learning is observation, but that the child of invention is failure. Hahaha.” The older man laughed at his own joke and looked at Plinth.

“Ha hah. Very good sir.” Plinth chuckled politely. “You know that reminds me, I was thrown out of the last fashion show I attended.”

“Really? Why was that?”

Plinth took a sip from the brandy that was served on the counter in front of him. “Because I asked a coatrack who their designer was.”

“Ha hahahaha!” the man laughed.

“Ho ho he he” Plinth laughed.

Plinth and the old man laughed in good nature. Cophin took a sip of his lavender tonic and tried almost his best not to squeeze his eyelids into his cheekbones.

The older man approached the bar counter. He retrieved a golden chalice from the bartender. It was filled with a rich red wine that rippled like the waves of the ocean. Cophin and Plinth, as well as every other tourist, were served in simple stemmed glassware.

The white robed man took a sip from his wine. “This is excellent. And I can’t help but think it would be better with good company. It is so rare for me to meet perceptive individuals when I travel. And I can’t help but think that I’ve seen you before.” He narrowed his eyes and looked at Plinth.

Plinth quickly shook his head. “That can’t possibly be. I’m a low ranking sommelier and barely a journeyman alchemist. I just have one of those plain faces. The kind that you see everywhere. In fact some days I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror.”

“Hmmm, maybe so. But gentlemen, I have a private booth for this event. I invite you to come and take a seat in it with me.”

“I would love to, but then where would you sit?” Plinth patted his belly.

“Hahaha.”

“Ho he ho.”

“But seriously. I insist.” There was a sudden ice to the Councilor's voice.

Two Guardsmen standing at the edge of the veranda turned towards the three of them.

Plinth smiled. “Uh yes, we accept… how could we refuse.”