Chapter Two: A Deal

The crowded entrance to the shop worried Senor Dylan Latemn for a minute, as he stood away from the queue of eager buyers, only shifting his grip on the wooden chest he carried.

There was only one place in the whole of Cite de Reboldoeux where such a queue could be found - or it could be just pure flattery, and what the owner of the shop would dearly enjoy.

Andre Janzur's Shoppe – lined with the motto of 'Living with Fantasies', or 'fan-ta-zzies' as the owner would say in his chatter of air of pride and pomp - was indeed a thriving business in the land of Granado Espada. Tourists from the different cities cited his fashion to be unique, grand and something entirely new – and matching to the new world. Many have forked out their money for a taste of fashion, which the designer was more than happy to provide.

But little knew of the life Andre had back in Orespia, or at least the friendships he forged.

This man, though as dainty as a lady, was a talented rapier. And Dylan knew that his brother, Dilos, had as much interest in fashion as he did for skilled weapon mastery.

The two men, Dilos and Andre, were very good friends. They often dragged Dylan into the picture now and then, but Dylan could not stand the ruffles that Andre absolutely adored – and Dilos appreciated.

The two men went their separate ways when Dilos went to war – Andre fashioning a war suit to 'carry the dreams of the people on to victory' - and the tailor was last heard of by the Latemn family on a ship headed to the new world.

But, here he was, and he had not changed much. Maybe the air of the new world slowed the pace of aging for the tailor, for his hair was still the dark brown of his youth and his eyes glittering – just like Dylan knew him for.

And his squeaky voice had, unfortunately, not changed a bit.

"Thank you, Madame! May your fan-ta-zzies come true!"

"Thank you, Senor! Win the lady of your heart!"

"Greeeeee-tings! How can I engage you in beee-yooo-tiful banter today?"

Sir Dylan cleared his throat, "Andre, it's me. Dylan. Remember?"

At this, Andre's eyes widened and his smile grew even wider.

"DYLAN! Theez iz sa most WONDERFUL surprise!"

Feeling glares piercing his back, Dylan hushed the excited tailor, "I need to speak with you. Privately. About my brother."

"Of course, of course!"

Oblivious to Dylan's discomfort, Andre trilled with laughter and turned to the queue behind him.

"People, people, you must be famished! Please! Partake your meals and return without haste! I'll be ready to attend to you!"

The queue dispersed slowly with mutterings. With his fans addressed, Andre led Dylan into his boutique with the airs of a good friend.

"You must be tired, Dylan! What shall we feast on this lovely afternoon? Succulent steak and sweet wine?"

Dylan liked none of those, but he tried his best to ignore the man's accent and airy ways.

"I have something from Dilos. For you."

At this, Andre spun around mid-step, and he queried again with a quizzical tone.

"A gift from Senor Dilos?"

Dylan nodded.

This was what he feared. Andre was Dilos's good friend, but here was where that friendship would be tested – and tested with much difficulty on Andre's part. Dylan feared that with Andre's flippant manner, and what his brother had done, Andre might deny any knowing of the man who had committed a grievous public crime.

"Senor Dylan," Andre took off his coat, ruffles fluttering, and sat down by his crafting table with unexpected heaviness, "I am lost for words. I assumed that, that, Dilos was - "

He need not have worried.

"Gone," Dylan replied as he took his seat before Andre, "But, at least, we have not forgotten him. I was worried that you have, or would deny."

At this, Andre gave a laugh, breaking the heavy mood, and leaned in his seat most ungracefully, "You underestimate me, Senor Dylan! I, Andre, will never forget his good friend! You know as well as I do how much I liked your brother!"

"I know, Andre, I do know. However, after all that's happened…"

"I still believe that Dilos never did it! I don't believe what they say."

With that, Dylan felt his tense shoulders droop with ease, and Andre laughed as he noticed that.

"Then, Andre, I entrust this into your care."

Dylan passed the wooden chest to the tailor. Andre looked up at Dylan quizzically.

"Have a look for yourself," Dylan urged, "You'd recognize it."

A peep inside the chest was taken, and Andre gasped.

"Dylan! I insist you take it back!"

"I can't. I haven't told you why, have I?"

Andre shook his head, slightly confused.

"Well… Dilos has three god-daughters – my daughters."

Andre rose from his chair quickly, "You got married?!"

Dylan patted the tailor's shoulder, as if to cool the sudden heat rushing to Andre's face in shock. He definitely had some explaining to do.

"I adopted orphans that Dilos and I found. We moved here to the new world recently, under the family name Tyrillian. However, they are inquisitive about Dilos and I don't want them to find this. I think you're the best person I can entrust this to - to keep for your lifetime.

Will you?"

For a moment, Andre no longer seemed like the strange man that irked Dylan in his younger days. He was serious, deep in thought, and his eyes were downcast.

After the moment of silence, Andre replied, "All right."

His hands grabbed the handles of the chest and stowed it under the table.

With that, Dylan decided that it was time to leave. He knew what he had done – giving Andre a gift to remember his friend by, and also rekindling memories of anguish of that friend's disappearance.

But, Andre had shown it to Dylan himself – he could handle it, behind that prissy façade he had. He re-ignited his fashion business in this new world and he had accomplished so much as well. Surely, he was a misunderstood man.

Andre then smiled, "Well, Dylan? Care to choose some lovely apparel for your daughters or yourself?"

Dylan looked about the frills and rainbows of the room, "I don't think my daughters wear your style of clothing, Andre. Neither do I -"

"Ahh, that is nonsense! Bring them by anytime. I'd love to see them and let them try on some things, realize their dreams and fan-ta-zzies!"

Andre was back to his flippant, flowery self. It was well enough that he did – Dylan could see the queue forming again outside.

"I must be off, Andre. I must confess that I sneaked out of the house without my daughters knowing."

"I understand, Senor! Be on your way!"

But as Dylan turned for the door, Andre placed a hand on Dylan's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Dylan. About Dilos. You've heard what they've said?"

Yes, Dylan knew.

There was a grave in Al Quelt Moreza, with Dilos's name etched on the epithet.

"I have. Thank you."

And with that, the Latemn left the store quietly.

With a lingering thought, Andre Janzur dragged out the chest again and peeked into it.

His fingers reached in, and pulled out a familiar lavish white robe. He merely rubbed the cloth of the cape with his fingers, and stored it back into the chest and into hiding.

He opened the doors of his shop. A flourish of eagerness came in, asking for a dress of the latest fashion. Andre's sombre mood was whittled away with the cheery smile of the customer.

"Ahh, theez Andre shall provide!"