I could tell they were puzzled by what I was doing- well. Some of them.

My blade, Thorn and Needle seemed to understand some of it. Spike and Barb though, appeared to be helplessly sitting by, rather than standing by on guard. Slouched against the wall and glancing around the cabin as things were prepared...

Needle stepped in not long after the maidservant arrived with the cosmetics I'd asked for, testing them on my inner wrist before allowing them to be applied on my face. Muttering words that made my skin tingle.

"What is that spell?" I asked.

"It accelerates reactions. If your skin was going to blister or redden with allergy, we would know in seconds," he replied. "This is safe for your face. The inner wrist is similar to the skin on your face..."

"Is that different from a healing spell, or is a healing spell just an acceleration?" I asked.

He lifted his head slightly and glanced up at me. "There's actually some debate about that in the-"

"Not now," my Blade cut him off. "The Sceptarch has to get ready. We have a journey back on which she'll be quite bored. Save it."

I noticed something, about the way they spoke. Needle was very proper in one specific way. He was an intellectual. But my Blade was proper differently.

Noble, I thought. Or a rich merchant or something...

Not anymore, though. I wondered if he resented that.

"Come, Sceptarch," the maid was wearing a veil over the bottom half of her face. Hiding away her nose and mouth and jaw with blue and black lace.

When I followed her into the water closet, she glanced around and asked, "is this the only space we have that is private?"

"Yes, I was a scribe, this is more than the others in town have, unless they live in a generational home," I replied.

"I see," she backed into the far wall as far as she could. "Disrobe then, and I will help with your ablutions and the application of cosmetics."

I did so with a feeling of shaky trepidation. I'd not disrobed in front of anyone who wasn't a family member or doctor before. It wasn't usual to have a maid help one bathe and dress. Thankfully, since I'd already bathed a few days before and hadn't gone outside at all, I only needed a good scrub with a washcloth. Warm water and soap were in good supply, as I'd even bought extra in the market through my new maid.

"How did the people react, when they saw you?" I asked.

"We informed them, when they asked," she said as she scrubbed at my back. "That the new Sceptarch had been Crowned and we were going to bring her home. They appeared to be frightened."

"How did the Seamstress feel about making my dress?" I asked. "I can't imagine she's not terrified I'll give her the touch of death if she gets something wrong. Is there any way to to mitigate that? Terrified people make mistakes more than any other kind."

"I assured the Seamstress, when she tried to refuse," the maid moved on to my arms. "That the Sceptarch is only allowed to kill those who mean them harm, or those who have been sentenced to death by the state. And the worst you could do for a ruined dress is simply not patronize her again, perhaps tell other nobles not to, as well."

Which wasn't really a big threat, considering there weren't any nobles shopping there to begin with.

"She did find some fine quality lamé," the maid went on. "It was only enough for one dress. She said she'd been saving it for her daughter's wedding. I informed her that with what we were willing to pay, she would be able to make one for her daughter and herself."

Money talks and people listen.

"It did have to be made of a lower-quality fabric," she said. "As they did not have anything befitting you. But the Tricot was the only fabric I could find with the rich dark blue of the Vireld. The gold lamé will accent it beautifully, in any case. Though in the future, we do use primarily silver for accenting. You will have to ask for gold, if you want it."

"That's good to know," I said as she finished scrubbing down my legs.

I was able to handle my torso and face on my own while she did the rest, thank god. I didn't think I could handle her touching anywhere actually vulnerable on my body.

At that point, she started with the moisturizing cream that had a slight shimmer to it. It wouldn't show on my face, but my arms, throat and cleavage would sparkle and that was the desired outcome. They managed it with a sort of bronze colored... mineral? It was ground into a fine powder, and it was called Mica, that was all I knew.

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For my eyes and lips, we went with Blue and black. The maid painted a design on them without asking, so I was curious.

Spider webs, for some reason. I asked why.

"For the Vriska, of course," she replied.

Vriska were giant blue spiders? I wondered if the Blade had been... playing around, when he told me they fight them in an arena. "And... they make up your armor?" I said with a leading tone.

"Yes, did they tell you?" she asked in a distracted tone as she began to outline the webbing with blue. "They have a tough, leathery hide. It's perfect for a Vireld warrior, as it's flexible enough to allow movement, but does not easily allow either slashing or puncturing."

"You're not just a maid," I said simply.

"Ahhh," she smiled with her eyes. "Caught me, did you. I am your Shadow, my lady. You may call me by any name you please. Shadows give up their identities when the Sceptarch is crowned."

"That sounds different from the Edges," I said. And I wondered... why were there so many other positions? Edges, Shadow... was the Blade not enough to protect the Sceptarch?

"Yes, Edges are meant to have easily remembered names that pertain to their role," she said. "A shadow can remain nameless, if their patron so pleases."

"I'll call you Melantha," I said.

She seemed surprised. "That's a human name derived from Elven, isn't it? The Ilam dialect."

It's funny to call it a dialect, when it's essentially just a trade language. It was cut apart and put together like the common trade language amongst humans. "A Dark Flower. An ominous but beautiful death."

She smiled with her eyes again. "I shall wear it well, Sceptarch."

I noticed her eyes were both gold, instead of silver and gold, like the Edges and the Blade. I didn't ask, because I wanted to figure out that mystery on my own. After all, if it were about healing, then Needle should've had purely gold eyes, but he did not.

When the cosmetics were finished, I couldn't believe how I looked. I couldn't believe my eyes. Literally. "Wait, what-- have my eyes been purple this whole time!?"

"Yes, Sceptarch," Melantha replied. "Tsk! Tis that old wives tale again. Your eyes remain the color you were birthed with, but oftentimes that color is different from what you believe. The magic in you, intensifies everything. The color of your eyes reflects the fact that you are powerful. If you'd had hazel eyes, they likely would've turned a bright grassy green with brown patterns clearly seen or perhaps they would have turned brown with green spots like little leaves floating in dirty water. It's happened before. You'll see the other Sceptarch's portraits in Itra."

It was confounding. My eyes had always been a bit muddy gray-blue. To think that was because there was PURPLE in them was frankly laughable. One would think if there was purple in blue eyes, the blue would merely turn lilac or some such shade. Not muddy gray.

But there was no mistaking that purple in my eyes...

image [https://64.media.tumblr.com/3756921d6c0c8ee65f9301b0d180965e/a33a3fbba6f9f966-d3/s1280x1920/523f79bf19d07f2c7d7dd3276eae26561a9b501a.pnj]

"Is there a reason the Vriska is the creature you find most..." I sought a word that didn't imply religion. I had no idea if the Vriska was sacred or just useful.

"It is the creature we cannot entirely conquer," she replied. "Vriska may be befriended. Trained. But in every litter, there is born one which does not care for you, for your food and love and care. It is wild and always will be. We respect this spirit, which is why we only fight those in the Arena. The others are not docile and would suffice, but... it would not be truly respectful of their spirit. Their spirit is to accept us, whereas the wild ones do not. We must honor both. The wild ones give us armor and the others give us many things we can use. Their silks are strong and beautiful, not to mention they are quite the security measure."

"Will I see many of them?" I asked. Spiders weren't my favorite creature, but that was mostly because of how small and fast they were. If they were larger, they would likely be slower. Less frightening when you can see it coming, after all.

"You will be expected to kill for their leather if you please," she said. "In the arena, as all others do. But if you refrain from doing so, you will only see them on top of the buildings, in the alleys and other out of sight places. They hide and ambush those who have not been marked with the scent of the Vriska. We shall bathe you in the oils before entering Gresh."

Before entering the Country?

"I see," I said. "Well, how easy is it to get your hands on that oil?"

She hummed as she helped me into the dress. "Not that easy, unless one is a capable warrior. You could always kill many Vriska, and use the small amounts of oil left on their webs to pat yourself down for a brief foray. Of course, we have a special formula. They may not scent him if he sneaks in for a bit, but if they pay attention to what he smells like, at all, they'll be able to pick out the difference."

"That's good," I said with some relief. There was no possible way to confuse the spiders, unless you were to use the correct or incorrect oils. Which meant that there were oil experts. And if you get handed a vial of oil from one of them, it's less likely to have been tampered with. "I want the Blade to fetch an entirely fresh bottle, I don't want to use anything that's exchanged hands with someone else. Including food."

"Well now," she said as she arranged my hair, loose and waving. "You might just last as long as your past four predecessors."

She didn't say it like it was positive, exactly. A step up.

"How long did they live?" I asked.

"Oh... twenty years at the longest," she said. "Ten at the shortest."

That was the past four. "How long did the longest go? Overall?"

"Oh that's a tale," she said. "The Tale of Sceptarch Markus who lived for fourty years after he took up the mantle. He was quite the character. I'll tell you about him on the ride."

"And the shortest?" I asked.

"Ha, that was Sceptarch Elgard," she said. "He walked in, saw the spiders and started screaming and running. Apparently he triggered their hunting instincts and they wrapped him in silk and wouldn't let the Blade of the time find him until he suffocated. Course, then the Blade dropped dead as well so it took a few days to find them after that."

"Why would you scream while running if you wanted to go undetected?" I asked. It's always confused me how a Human's first instinct is to scream. I don't know about the other types of people. But humans always shriek. Which is not conducive to hiding or running away.

"Beats me," Melantha said. "Your appearance has been perfected to the best of my ability, Sceptarch. Let's go and show the Edges."