Book 1: Chapter 9 - Shopping [Part 2]
“Milady Seraphina, I simply must protest,” the dressmaker said in his shrill voice. “That is a most scandalous neckline you are proposing... and exposing your shoulders so? Why, it is what the women of ill repute do in the South!”
He held in his hands a rough sketch that Seraphina had drawn—a rough sketch by the blonde girl's standards, but almost a technical drawing and pattern by the tailor's. It depicted a prize-winning dress she had worn for a European Renaissance themed ball. Fashion-wise, however, it would still be several hundred years ahead in this world.
“Why...” The noblewoman dredged her memory for the dressmaker's name. “...Master Wilforte. Fashion is more than slapping on the same tried and true designs. It is an adventure,” she explained, patting the elderly gentleman's cheek.
“Only a skilled tailor such as yourself could pull off such a feat for myself and Lady Eloise, daughter of Baron Geron de Laney,” she added. “Fashion is all about pushing boundaries. It is, by its nature, a journey into the very unknown!”
Seraphina had dealt with these stodgy old types before. She traced a hand across a tailor’s dummy. You had to sell them a dream from their youth. An unachieved ambition.
“Master Wilforte, I do believe that yours is a far more important role than any uncouth adventurer's. They may slay monsters, but you—with your needle and thread—you destroy ideas and preconceived notions, creating a path that those of lesser skill can only dream of following! You should not put yourself down so,” she said with a dazzling, radiant smile.
The tailor gulped, finding himself under assault from the girl's raw charm. It was both a challenge and an enticing prospect. Instead of merely following trends, now he would be making them.
Seraphina decided to twist the knife to seal the deal. She imagined that she could almost feel her Charisma wearing away his resistance, turning it into something else.
A desire to fulfill her wishes.
“Think of it! Your dress will be on the most beautiful model in the kingdom—me—when I am formally presented at court. Think of that: you will be the tailor to the fiancée of the Crown Prince Velens and the next queen of Aranthia. Why, I do think a royal commission would not be completely out of the question. Oops, I do believe I have said too much,” Seraphina let slip on purpose, half-covering her mouth with her hand as she laughed prettily. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eloise’s features tighten momentarily.
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It seemed the dark-haired girl had not completely given up on her one true love.
“I guess... since the Lady Seraphina has asked me, one has no choice but to make the attempt!” he replied, the fire of his long-gone youth rekindled in his eyes. His hands itched to make a miracle out of cloth and thread, his doubts be damned.
The maid and the lady-in-waiting stood quietly to the side, Eloise nervously biting her lower lip. Would she be forced to wear such a... revealing dress too? Eloise thought to herself worriedly.
The tailor rubbed his gray, thinning, oiled beard. “Now, for the matter of payment, I will have to send the request to the castle as before...”
“No, Master Wilforte, that simply will not do! This must be a secret from my dearest parents... you do understand, don't you?” Seraphina cut in, filling her words with as much honey as she could. “My father would positively kill you if he ever found out!”
The man quailed, but somehow found it within him to put up a token protest. “But payment...”
“You, of course, will need no such thing. Think on it! After the ball, all the daughters and mothers of every great noble house will clamor for your skill—you will be able to charge them any price you like,” she stated, infusing her voice with command. The hidden dice of the game started rolling.
“...charge any price I like,” the old man repeated in a whisper, awestruck.
“Now, as for the split riding-skirts...” ventured Seraphina, but she stopped herself when she saw the man frown. He looked as if he was awakening from a dream.
There was no need to push it. She tapped her foot, waiting for a notification from the system for a bonus to her Wisdom. She sighed after a moment when none came.
“My attendant will pay you now. Milly, if you will,” she pronounced, slightly annoyed.
Miriam almost jumped out of her skin at being called. “Of course, Lady Seraphina,” she answered, rushing and almost tripping over herself to get to Wilforte. She counted out the money on the tailor’s countertop, murmuring the amounts as she did so.
Once she was done, she bowed to the tailor and gave her thanks. Seraphina merely inclined her head and graced the old man with another beautiful smile.
Outside, Seraphina found the former bandit Frest idling by the clothier’s entrance, leaning against a Zajasite streetlamp. He stood to attention once he caught sight of his mistress.
It might be his chance to shine soon, she idly mused to herself.
Now, Seraphina had just a few tasks left in town before she headed back to the castle.