Loredas had arrived, and as evening came on the house in the Temple District was in an uproar. This was far and away the most prestigious party any of them had attended, and it was not just Katja who was in a tizzy. Wyll was the calmest of them all, as usual – his unshakeable confidence and sense of himself ensuring that all was, of course, going to go well. What did any of them have to fear, really? It wasn't as if their position in Imperial City society was going to have any effect on their real lives.
The boys were uncomfortable in their fancy clothes, and Gylabris was nervous about being introduced to a roomful of Cyrodiil bigwigs – would they despise him for his race? Or worse, regard his fascination with Dwemer technology as something to be dismissed? He'd certainly gotten his fill of that attitude during the first several decades of his life. But the Dragonsprings were his friends, and he was willing to put up with this… affair, for their sakes. He was not a complete stranger to the connection between socializing and politics.
Katja had selected a gown that she'd been assured by the woman at the garment shop represented the height of current fashion – for a respectable matron. She still looked good, but it wasn't as if she was trying to attract a mate. And she was determined not to outshine her daughter. This trip was making memories Mina would treasure for a lifetime, or so she hoped. Wyll and Anders had suffered from having their party clothes bought "off the rack." Both of them were used to the perfect fit of the clothing (most of it rather utilitarian, as there were no fancy parties to be attended in Whiterun) crafted for them by Gerde Gray-Mane at home.
Alessia demonstrated an unexpected talent, when she quickly produced pins and sewing supplies and was able to alter the garments so that – at least – they did not hang on the two big, muscular men like tents. Katja was satisfied with the result. It was through Sextus that they'd gotten this invitation, she was sure, and she was anxious for Anders – at least – to show some style.
"The Skyrim Slasher" had fought in the Arena a couple of times a day for the past four days, before being forcibly retired. He'd finished his brief career as a gladiator undefeated and for the most part unharmed (nothing a dose of Healing Hands couldn't put right in a minute) – but his wife, after the second time she'd been asked to apply that spell, had put her foot down. Unless The Skyrim Slasher was planning on sleeping alone from here on out, it was time for him to lay down his sword and return his official Arena armor to the red room for good. At least he'd found the experience a lot more entertaining than shopping in the Merchant District, even if not something he wanted as a career.
Andi had put a lot more attention into his outfit than Katja had expected, given her experience of the male sex in general. And by the Divines, did he look sharp! His slim-muscular build was perfect for the snug-fitting doublet and hose that were the current Cyrodiil fashion. Rezira, who would look good in rags, was stunning in a long, deep blue-violet satin gown that fit snugly through the bodice and flared to a full skirt that hung almost to the ground. It almost precisely matched her eyes, and her glossy black locks had been piled on top of her head and held in place with jeweled hairpins.
Finally all of them were ready to go, save for one more arrival. Mina had had her gown fitted at the shop, and Marta had been helping her get ready for the past hour. The rest of the family were growing impatient when she appeared at the top of the stairs at last, and stood looking down at the floor below where her family awaited her. Katja's breath caught in her throat, and she wished Dovi might be here to see. Outshine her daughter? Impossible!
One manicured hand resting gracefully on the stair rail, Mina stepped carefully down to the lower level with her head erect, blue eyes sparkling. The looks on the faces of those waiting below told her that she looked every bit as fantastic as that mirror in her bedroom had shown her a minute before. She too wished that Dovi were here. Though of course, he thought she was beautiful dressed in the frayed old clothes she wore for doing farm chores.
Instead of being dressed up, her mass of lightly-waving red-gold hair fell around her shoulders and down to her waist. Marta had applied touches of makeup to accentuate her blue eyes and rosy lips, and the overall effect was… amazing. She'd never been more excited in her life. Wyll stepped forward and embraced her carefully. "Mina bean, you are magnificent!" he declared.
He loved all of their children, but Mina was so clearly a blend of Kat and himself that he couldn't help feeling his heart soar whenever he was reminded of how beautiful she had become. It was if he, so unmagical, and she, with only limited magic at her command, had created a miracle – the ultimate expression of their love for one another.
Mina gave him a stellar smile, then hugged her mom and Anders too. "Sorry it took so long," she said matter-of-factly, as if her insides weren't churning. "Shall we go?" There was no way the women in their velvet slippers were going to walk the better part of a mile to the address in the Talos Plaza district where the party was being held. Seven of their party squeezed inside the hired coach, while Anders and Wyll rode atop it. They didn't mind their party clothes getting mussed. While Anders had always enjoyed being a prominent member of Tamriel society, and enduring events like this one was a requirement of that station, Wyll would have been just as happy working at the forge.
The coach pulled up in the street outside the townhouse of Count Enzo Terentius, and they all disembarked. The driver, whose employer supplied coaches for many such functions, knew exactly how to reach the coachyard around the corner. There he would wait until sent for to return his clients to their home. Anders handed the man a tip as they made ready to go inside.
A large and imposing servant dressed in the count's livery was standing at the door, greeting guests and checking invitations. The invitation had come addressed to Anders, and covered his entire party. He'd checked with Sextus and learned that indeed, it had been through him that Count Terentius had learned of their presence in the city. But it had not taken any urging on Sextus' part to get the count's social secretary to send them an invitation. Rumors swirled around the Arch-Mage of Skyrim's College of Magic, his wife The Dragonborn, and the doings of their children and associates as well. Imperial City society was dying to back them into corners and pump them for first-hand information.
The count's townhouse could not claim palatial status – no residence in Imperial City was more than a fraction as large as the Imperial Palace. But it was certainly far larger, and grander, than the large and comfortable house where the Dragonsprings and their party were staying. They walked into a stone entry hall much bigger than the front room at Dragonspring House, even after the recent remodel, and came to a short staircase with another liveried servant standing at its head.
Below them a large room spread out, the house's Grand Ballroom one would presume. Finely dressed people dotted it, forming conversational groups and snacking on delicate hors' d'oeuvres while sipping fine wines and other beverages. The servant took the invitation from Anders' hand, and announced them. Sextus had made sure that all of Anders' party were included by name, and it resulted in an impressive recitation.
"The Arch-Mage of the College at Winterhold in Skyrim, Anders Dragonspring. His wife, The Dragonborn, savior of Nirn, Katja Dragonspring. Their marriage mate, Wyll Dragonspring. Their son, Andre Dragonspring. His companion, Miss Rezira Bagrum, of the Mrzhandtham division of the Dwemer (a murmur of surprise was heard from the crowd below at this announcement – no one had met a representative of that long-vanished Elven race in thousands of years). Their daughter Wilhelmina Dragonspring, their sons Dovarmun Dragonspring and Sigmund Dragonspring, and Keeper Gylabris of the Mirskhrazana tribe of the Falmer."