Sinister
This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Latchkey Kingdom comic, which is copyrighted by Nick Daniel.
Chapter 2: Cloak
Regular citizens who deal with adventurers soon learn that there's too many adventurers, too many crazy people, making too many problems. This is why merchants, blacksmiths, bakers and every respectable person who has to do business with them develops the skill of mostly ignoring them. These business-people trying to earn a living do their very best to avoid getting involved with adventurers unless money is to be exchanged immediately. This Not-Problem-Cognizant-Philosophy is the backbone of adventurer-based economy.
Faren the tailor was one of these reliable entrepreneurs. She didn't sell the kind of practical gear that would have put her in competition with the Hilla Treasure Co. shop, and its intimidating proprietor, but her own shop did attract the occasional adventurer who wanted to accessorize with impractical gear or dress their Sunday best. More often than not her clientele were completely typical people, but she was good at dealing with the inevitable strange characters visiting her store. She was hardly ever surprised anymore by what adventurers may come in dressed as or intending to walk out looking as.
So she was nonplussed when the bell above her door rang and in came a shoe-less strange drifter wearing a ratty hood and dirty clothes. She was a lot more interested in who the creature held the door for. The famous Princess Rosaline Lanistark I of Angelon had never visited her shop before. The girl was wearing a red velvet hood and dark sunglasses (Genuine Oliver Goldsmith Laghattans!), but there was no way to misidentify that golden hair and immaculately-tailored dress.
The poorly disguised princess was smiling as she passed the shabbily dressed man holding the door for her, but as she advanced into the middle of the shop her expression became passive. Rosaline stood there and scanned the shop as if its proprietor was merely part of the decor. Faren held her breath until the princess nodded to herself. The shop had passed muster.
The older woman immediately made her way around the counter and moved to greet the -rich- client. "Good evening, Ma'am. How may I help you today?"
The princess discarded her sunglasses and pulled down her hood quickly. The air around her sparkled as she ruffled her golden locks free. It may have been meant to look like magic, but it was evidently an expensive trick. The tailor had to keep her own jaw from dropping at the shameless squander of gold dust. Faren decided she would sweep the shop very carefully once the princess left.
Finally deigning to acknowledge shop owner, the princess spoke, "Good evening, Tailor. It is my understanding that you provide your wares to the Clan Hilla and their immediate staff. Is that so?"
Faren nodded a bit too enthusiastically. "You are correct, ma'am! I pride myself in having the Hillian Royal family, Chancellor Harbottle Stonegrave, and Svanhildur Blackheart as my clients." She omitted mentioning that as the only true tailor in Hilla her many clients didn't have other options for mending their well-worn wardrobes when professional hands were required.
The princess pointed to someplace to the other side of the shop, the winter clothes section, and Faren finally noticed that the shabbily dressed man had managed to cross the entire shop while she had been distracted by the other woman's decorative dandruff. "You can provide my pupil a new wardrobe. He is to prepare for a new job and his current attire falls short of the requirements for the post."
The tailor turned her her professional eyes to study the figure of her true client as he entertained himself by wrapping one of Faren's delicate spider-silk scarves around his arm. Medium build, digitigrade legs, a head the size of an anvil, and with a wide neck to match. And that was only what she could see with that ratty hood and cloak he was wearing. He had to be some kind of hound walking on his back legs. Definitely outside the usual, hounds rarely wore more than a few accessories, but making regular clothes fit him would be possible with a lot of custom -expensive- fitting. The older woman assumed the princess would have be acting as interpreter for the man, and pay for everything. "Congratulations! I am sure we can find the perfect apparel for him. What is this new job?"
Rosaline tapped her lips with her index finger. Half lost in thought. "Oh, I have not decided yet. Maybe Marquis or chancellor, perhaps a wealthy merchant." the princess couldn't have have said that more casually. "Let us set the bar low at brilliant music teacher and work our way up from there."
Years of experience had taught Faren when best to not seek any clarification and let some things remain a mystery. "Of course! I keep a collection of imported fabrics perfect for any occasion. First we can try to find a style that suits him from my stock." The lag unfurled her measuring tape and moved out towards the full length mirror by the wall. "Sir, please let me take your measurements."
The gray man looked towards the princes first, for a small gesture of her head, before he actually did as asked. Now that Faren was awarding him her full attention she realized just why she hadn't noticed him cross her store, his gait was fast but eerily quiet with his unshod feet. The way he seemed to lunge with every step would have much more intimidating if she hadn't just witnessed him being so deferential to the princess.
Embalmer stood in front of the mirror and without any prompting raised his arms, pulling his cloak taut like tattered bat wings. That the thing didn't shred at once told Faren that the material had been made from good materials and sewn well. A fine cloak, once upon a time. "Ah. Please take off that cloak, if you please."
He once again sought approval on the request from the young princess, but at that point she had already turned and was browsing the clothes racks on her own. With a heavy sigh Embalmer undid the bow holding his hood and let the whole thing fall carelessly to the floor.
Faren stepped back and reevaluated how dangerous the man before her was, regardless of how much deference he displayed for the princess or the cute hanging tongue. She pointed to a small table nearby. "Err. Sir, could you set all your weapons and... whatever those are... on the table?"
The request caused an even heavier sigh but he proceeded to lay on the table the blades, flasks, rusty corkscrews, and strange objects he had strapped to his back. When he stood in front of the mirror again and raised his arms Faren had the distinct impression that his gloomy silver eyes were looking at her just waiting for more requests. Happily for both, there wasn't anything else actually in the way of measuring the man anymore. Even more happily for the tailor, the gray man wasn't as unkempt as his clothes. She didn't have to hold her breath as she worked the tape around the man's limbs unlike with some of her other clients.
As she wrote down the man's measurements she was happily back into her comfortable routine. Which of course meant that it was at that moment that the princess raised her voice and asked. "Does that say MOM?"
The princess had returned with arm fulls of garments and accessories, a good part of the shop's inventory, but she was actually squinting at something on her companion's shoulder. Faren looked at the same spot and at first didn't know what the princess meant. It wasn't until she tilted her head a bit that she realized what she was looking at. Some of the small scars on the man's shoulder, under his short messy fur, formed a very crude carving of a heart with the word 'MOM' inside it.
For the first time the man spoke, and the tailor nearly had a heart attack. Evidently he could speak Inglish just fine. "Oh yes! I got the first 'M' and half the 'O' by pure chance the first time I ran through a window! Seemed a shame not to complete the design!" Embalmer turned to look at Faren straight in the eye. She decided that nothing with a jaw that big should be capable of smiling so widely. Embalmer tapped one of his other -many- scars "I do all my own sewing too, see?"
The princess walked right up to the man and placed her face not one inch from his disfigured shoulder"Mister Embalmer that is the most heart warming tokens of filial love I have ever seen. And objet trouvé! It truly brings a tear to my eye." The girl was being literal, and she had to wipe the corner of her eye with her sleeve.
The whole scene had the tailor seriously consider fleeing out of her own shop but before she could make the decision the princess thrust her bundle of clothes into Faren's arms. "Here," the princess said as she separated a frilly ruffled white shirt from the pile and passed it to Embalmer, "we will try florid artistic decadence first."
The man took the proffered shirt and quickly pulled it on without taking off his original shirt. The tailor bit her tongue when she heard the stitches pop as he began buttoning up. However no amount of flexing could get a garment made for poets and svelte pirates to button all the way. Giving up, Embalmer left the top buttons open and took the pose that he assumed matched the shirt: With his knuckles pressed against his waist and his eyes looking up and towards nothingness. The sight would completely ruin romantic romance covers for Faren from that day on.
"Hmm." The princess walked a full circle around her model. "Embalmer, dear, how developed are your musical talents?"
Looking back to the girl the gray man extended both index fingers and began to wave them in the air. "On the piano I can play the one song about the spider or the one about the boat."
"Right," the princess grabbed a thick burgundy coat with a white fur edges from the pile, "We can consider testing your musical skills at a later point but that look is a bit too blackguard to remain unnoticed. Take that off and lets see how you look as a merchant."
Embalmer nodded and took off the shirt quickly, one of the buttons bounced against the mirror and went flying to parts unknown, and dropped it on top of his discarded coat. The coat fit him much more loosely, as it was prepared for a fat cat, and he could comfortably wrap it around himself. He squirmed his head delightedly as the white fur trim tickled him.
The princess looked unconvinced. "There is something missing..." The princess glanced between the pile of clothes in Faren's arms and the costumed man, suddenly brightening as inspiration struck her. With no warning she pulled Faren's glasses off her face and tried them on Embalmer's. They didn't fit his larger head so she just left them resting atop his large muzzle. "Excellent! Now, what can you tell me about financing and economic theory?"
The man closed his eyes and began to recite as if he was reading a script off the back of his eyelids. "Capital is reckless of the health or length of life of the laborer, unless under compulsion from society. Let the ruling classes tremble at a communist revolution! The proletarians have nothing to-" The princess lunged forward and forcibly shut the man's jaw closed. Like the button Faren's glasses were sent carelessly flying away.
"Mister Embalmer! What- Wherever did you hear that filth?!"
Visibly chastised the man leaned back but didn't attempt to pry free of the girl's hold. He tried to speak from the side of his mouth. "Wrison."
"Right, that is where those fantasies belong." The princess let go of Embalmer's muzzle and scratched the underside of his jaw. "You are never to repeat any of that ever, ever, again. Are we clear?"
His hanging tongue visibly wiggled as she scratched. "Okay!"
"Good. Now lets see you in a role where you only have to repeat what I say." Down to the floor went the burgundy coat and out from the pile came a long black robe with wide triangular collar.
Even without her glasses the tailor could see what it was. "Ma'am! There must have been a- misunderstanding! That robe belongs to Chancellor Stonegrave. I am only keeping it for repairs."
The princess shrugged as she helped Embalmer insert his arms into the garment. "Obviously, it was behind your counter. We just need to see if it is a style befitting my pupil"
Through the years Faren's store had been robbed a handful of times, suffered a few minor fires, and she had to negotiate the sale of clothing to downright evil characters. Never before had she felt more helpless than in this absurd situation between the strange gray vagrant and the indifferent golden princess.
With a mighty pull Embalmer and Rosaline attempted to shove his enormous head through the collar of the robe. The fabric tore clean from the neck all the way down his chest. Both smiled as if everything had worked as intended. Faren buried her face in the pile of clothes and muffled a scream.
End of Chapter.
Please read and review. Criticism is welcome, especially this early in the story as I try to nail the characterization.
Updates will happen as time permits and if there is interest in this story.
