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“Il’lia, I don’t want to go dress shopping. I have a dress already,” Phillippa said with a sigh, not even turning away from her work. Il’lia was sitting on a stool in the corner the workshop, and had been trying to convince her to go dress shopping for the past ten minutes.
“Phil, come on. You can’t wear an old dress to this party. We just got paid. Let’s go get dresses that will make us look so hot.”
Phillippa was silent for a few moments more, focussed on the work she was doing and the scale-male piece she was crafting, specifically for this party to go with a formal dress. She knew what was expected at these types of things. She knew that it was expected for her to wear a dress of a certain level of pomp. She knew that the single dress she had and never wore was not to the standards expected of someone invited to such a party as they had been invited to.
That didn’t mean she had to like it.
“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?” Phillippa said, finally putting her tools down and turning to face Il’lia. Il’lia grinned. “Very well. We can go dress shopping Lia.”
Il’lia didn’t give her time to change her mind, dragging her out of the shop and towards whatever dress shop she had in mind. If Phillippa had to guess, it would be one that Thistle recommended based on how often Thistle went to these types of parties. But she wasn’t going to ask because she had tact. Sometimes.
It took them much longer than Phillippa would have liked to each find a dress that they were comfortable in and that, in Il’lia’s words, made them look hot. Il’lia went through multiple dresses of various necklines and colours, but was set on a dress that was just shorter than floor length and that were backless, wanting to show off her back tattoos. Eventually, she settled on a deep royal blue dress with a heartline neck and mesh sleeves that linked to her ring fingers, and golden chains linking across the open back of the dress.
“Phil, you can not seriously be planning on wearing pants under your dress,” Il’lia said as Phillippa tried on yet another dress with her pants still on, trying to find one that covered her from neck to wrist. Too many of the dresses were backless or had a deep neck or didn’t reach her wrists.
“Yes Il’lia, I am planning on wearing trousers under my dress. I’ll have them tailored, it will be fine.”
“Come on Phil, relax a little. Show some skin. Embrace how hot you are.”
“Il’lia, I am perfectly capable of being hot and fully covered,” she refuted, disappearing back into the dressing room to try the next dress that Il’lia had selected for her.
“I know, I know,” Il’lia said with a sigh. “You look the best when you’re the most comfortable and for you that’s fully covered.” Phillippa hummed, hanging up the previous dress and stepping into the next dress. This one was a beautiful jade colour, one that would look good with her black heeled boots and fancy gloves she already owned and the black scale-male she was making.
Once on, the collar sat comfortably around her throat and the sleeves flowed down all the way over her arms and wrists and hanging around her hands. There was a single slit from the bottom of the bodice all the way to the bottom of the panelled skirt that hung to the floor. She stepped out of the dressing room, turning towards where Il’lia was sitting and waiting for her.
“Oh damn, Phil, look at you. You look so good in that one.” Phillippa smiled.
“I do think that this is the one.”
“Shallnah,” Shaw said, knocking on the door of Shallnah’s office.
“Ah, Shaw. Come in.” Shaw hesitated for a moment at the doorway, the last time he had been in the office lingering at the front of his mind, before he stepped in. The last interaction he had was Shallnah was just a reminder of all he had to learn and all he owed to this woman. He stopped in front of the desk, waiting for Shallnah to indicate that he could before pulling out the seat.
“What can I do for you Shaw?”
“I thought I should update you on the business following what happened at the claim. We visited Bavralda to tell her what happened at her claim. She is unhappy with the Governor and was not afraid to share her feelings. She feels that the Governor has overstepped her power in Blackrock, and claimed possession of something Bavralda considers her property as it was found in her claim. And in the sense of full transparency, Bavralda offered friendship in exchange for our services of finding and regaining what was lost from her claim, through action or through information. And I know that I still owe you, both for what I took and for everything you’ve given me. So I hope that this can help repay what I still owe.” Shaw pulled a small drawstring bag out of his pocket, placing it on the desk in front of him. It didn’t jingle with coins, but it was evident that something was in it. “That is my portion of the gift of friendship that Bavralda gave us.”
Shallnah took the bag, opening it and looking inside. She looked back up at him, a pleased smile touching her lips.
“You’re a good boy Shaw.” She closed the bag, setting it back down her the desk. “I appreciate your honesty. This does pay off the rest of your debt. The information is most valuable. And you will keep me up to date with anything else you do for Bavralda.”
“Of course.”
“Very well. Is there anything else Shaw? I’m sure that Gav will need help behind the bar again.”
“Just, one more thing,” Shaw said. “I’ve been invited to the Governor’s Ball for the First Sprouting. And I was wondering, since you’re well connected and would have been to such events before, if you had any advice on where I would be able to acquire an outfit appropriate for such an occasion. You’ve already helped me so much, but I was hoping for a bit more advice. Especially since I don’t have much coin to buy an outfit, and I’m not asking for money or anything because all I really need is food and board and work which you give me already. But if there’s anywhere, I could rent or borrow a suit or something, or if you have any suggestions, I would appreciate it.”
“Sometimes situations call for better dress. I believe Jimmy knows where we keep spare suits. I’m sure one of them will fit you. And if they don’t, then you better get working hard because the suits sold in Highstone don’t come cheap.”
“Why must I have different clothes?” Vael stared at Ramsay and the cloth he was holding towards him. “Mine are fine.” He gestured down towards the simple gee he was wearing. It was the same gee he always wore, that his people always wore. There was no need to wear anything else.
“You are a hero, Vael. You are The Vael. You have a reputation now, and there are expectations that come with that. Expectations that you must meet. These clothes are part of that,” Ramsay said, shaking his hand holding the clothes in emphasis.
“Why?” Ramsay let out a slow breath through his nose.
“We were invited to a party of certain stature, and there are expectations that come with that stature. Expectations about dress and formality. And you are a hero now, you must meet those expectations. It opens doors to connections that will allow you to further your reputation as a hero and create opportunities you would not have without these types of parties. These clothes are part of that. These clothes will give you the opportunities that will help us find illithid.” Vael stared at Ramsay. Assessing.
“When did you get these?”
“I picked them yesterday. Thistle was lovely and recommended a fine tailor and I commissioned out outfits for the ball. It did cost most of our money that we got for the going to the claim, but it is worth it. My sartorial choices will turn heads, and we must stand out, you must stand out, as the distinguished hero that you are.”
“They are red. The colour will hide the blood of anyone I punch.”
“No, Vael. We won’t be punching anyone at this party. You can punch them with your words, but not your fists. This party is for talking and charming people and spreading your tale.” Vael grunted. What was the point of wearing the colour of blood if he could not spill blood.
“A convention of this place that I do not understand.” Ramsay nodded.
“Yes. They are conventions that only those of certain stature are privy to, and we are part of that small circle now.”
“Fine.” Vael grabbed the clothes from Ramsay’s hands and then the boots that Ramsay passed over as well.
Putting the clothes Ramsay had gotten for him on took a longer time than any clothes had the right to take. There were ruffles and buttons and too many things that clothes didn’t need. It was tight around his neck and chest and there was so many ruffles at his throat, a space he normally had completely bare. The only comfort, if you could call it that, were the bracers still on his wrists under the red shirt, a single familiar thing in the confusing world of ruffles and pomp.
“I do not like them,” Vael said as soon as he saw Ramsay waiting for him outside his room. Ramsay was wearing the same thing as he was, his shirt and ruffles and boots in white and gold rather than red. Ramsay was meant to be in purple, the white was odd.
“You look like a hero,” Ramsay replied, stepping forward. Ramsay reached for his throat, adjusting the cloth wrapped there and shifting it higher, buttoning it up to the top so it was resting at the bottom of his chin like Ramsay’s was. He fluffed the ruffles at his throat and moved to his wrists, folding the cloth there and buttoning it and shifting it so his bracers were fully covered.
“There, you look distinguished and like a hero. You must carry yourself with grace. I also got you a cane.” Vael stared at the fancy stick that Ramsay presented him, red and black like the clothes he had been given.
“To hit people that need it,” Vael said and he gripped the fancy stick.
“That is not the purpose of a cane. A cane demonstrated your status, with only the most esteemed people carrying one. It is decorative Vael.”
“Fine. Are we meeting the others?”
“I do believe that a carriage was sent for us.”