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Chapter XXI - The Tailor and the Professor

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Nothing could have been more hideous than Sir Claudius's outfit, or so Henri thought. When the strange, cloaked man spoke the word "castle", Henri pictured vast walls with cascading curtains and lovely furniture. He thought of French mansions and manors and châteaus. But, upon arrival, to both his surprise and disgust, the castle was of the Medieval style, as outdated and dilapidated as the clothes stuck to Sir Claudius's back.

"Oh!" Henri gasped.

"Magnificent, no?" Sir Claudius queried, lips upturned with pride. "One of my great-grandfathers built it many years ago. I wanted to keep it in its original form."

"I see… Monsieur…?"

"Claudius."

"Monsieur Claudius," Henri whispered, pursing his lips and squeezing his sketchbook between his palms.

"Now, the only thing I expect from you, Sir Clermont—French, is it?—is to redo the portions of the castle that obtain fabric. The furniture, the tapestries, the curtains, my wardrobe. The rest I must hire an architect, or something of the like, for—unless you know how to repair crumbling stone."

"Not in the slightest, Monsieur."

"I know it may not look the sharpest it's ever been, but I grew up in this castle and it means a great deal to me. I want to repair it to be as shining as it once was."

Henri lifted his eyes. "You speak as though you saw it in original form."

Sir Claudius shivered. "It is mighty cold, don't you think? Let us enter and I will treat you to a warm fireplace and tea. What say you, Sir Clermont?"

"Indeed, Monsieur, it is cold. I would be glad to join you."

Henri followed Sir Claudius inside the grand doors. He wasn't quite sure if the dastardly winds blew him in or if the great black void sucked him in. Either way, he was in, enshrouded in a cloud of black, a clapping thunderstorm of darkness.

"I apologize for the lighting, Sir Clermont," Sir Claudius spoke, his voice streaking like lightning across the black sky. "Or, lack thereof, rather."

"It is no problem, Monsieur. Although I would prefer a little bit of lighting so I may see what I am working with, regarding fabrics, that is."

Sir Claudius chuckled. "You are strictly business, aren't you, Sir Clermont? Upon entering, most visitors are sweating to the core and demanding light! But you—" he shook his head, his locks falling over his eyes, "you are completely unphased."

"What can I say? I am in love with what I do." Henri lifted a brow. Sir Claudius glanced from a distance, his eyes trailing over the gray streaks of what he thought to be Henri's face.

A few moments passed wherein Sir Claudius gathered his senses and trudged toward the Grand Hall. "Follow my voice, Sir Clermont."

"Of course, Monsieur." Henri listened for the sound of the boots squeaking across the floor as well as Sir Claudius's deep, husky, yet somehow soothing and lively, voice. His dark timbre did not match his light, childlike energy.

Soon, sparks ignited, illuminating Sir Claudius's black gloves; Henri focused his eyes on each thread of fabric as the gloves rubbed two pieces of metal together. Not even two minutes had passed when flames began swiveling up the side of the fireplace, like a fish swimming upstream, squiggling around to avoiding predators. It was the quickest Henri had ever seen anyone light a fire.

"Now then," Sir Claudius spoke, "let's discuss the deal, shall we?" He arose, his tall figure sweeping across the room. Henri felt a breeze tingle his skin, emanating from the swoop of the cape. That must be the thickest fabric I've ever encountered, besides animal hide or leather perhaps.

"Yes, let's."

Sir Claudius gestured to a chair across from what appeared to be the Master's seat. Henri walked over to it, taking in every centimetre of fabric. He scowled as though peering into a pail of dirty water, except this dirty water was offered to him… to drink.

"Thank you… Monsieur Claudius." He gripped onto the armrests, easing himself down, hoping not to get caught on one of the many split seams. An animal might as well have raked its claws across the chair. "Do you… live here alone, Monsieur? Any dogs, cats, or children that might be damaging the furniture?"

"Oh, no, Sir Clermont!" Sir Claudius heaved over, groping onto his stomach as he laughed. The fire bathed his canvas face with red streaks. "You have mistaken me for a family man. I might as well be a confirmed old bachelor."

Henri sat, puzzled. "But you are so young, Monsieur!"

"Oh, I merely joke. I would like a family, yes, someday. And now that you mention it, a cat would be nice to have around. But no, no one lives with me currently."

Henri turned around, pointing to the ripped fabric on the chairs.

Sir Claudius scratched his beard, gazing into the fire. "One of my ancestors must have had hunting hounds, Sir Clermont. That chair has been like that since I was a lad."

Henri nodded. "Well, I will be sure to replace it with entirely new fabric."

"Thank you, I intended to ask for that."

"Carrying on," Henri opened his sketchbook, taking the pen from his blonde hair and jotting down notes, "I always ask my clients what is the reason for coming to my shop, and I would like to know yours, Monsieur Claudius. Tell me your story," he spoke, his "R"s gurgling in the back of his throat.

Sir Claudius sank down into his Master's chair, which was wooden and creaked when he shifted. "The reason I came to you, Sir Clermont, is because I long to re— Enter, I long to enter into society."

"Considering your status, I would expect you to have already done so."

"My status comes from old money, Sir, and that is all. I am not acquainted with the nouveau riche of Dublin, although I'd like to be. My parents left me with the money their parents left them, as well as the wardrobe."

"I am well aware." Henri kept his eyes on his book.

Sir Claudius frowned, but diverted his gaze, soon focusing again. "So, my hope is to enter into society with a fresh wardrobe. I would like to begin courting and have a wife by my side within a year or two. If it were my choice, I would keep this wardrobe as I am fond of it, but I know it is old-fashioned and would not be acceptable within society."

Henri smiled, a small curve seeping into his cheeks. Sir Claudius could hardly see it from his perch, but he saw it. "I am glad to know that we are on the same page in that respect. Now then, for the wardrobe, I am thinking about this." Henri turned his sketchbook around, and what Sir Claudius thought to be a note was, in turn, an extremely detailed portrait of a black and silver suit. It was perfectly attuned to his body type, with a fit around his large barrel chest and smaller waist. All of the clothes he had ever had were always too large and bulky, making him look like the hunter he never dreamed of becoming. But this, this was slender, slim-fitting, scholarly even. There was an air of sophistication to it, as though he were going to teach in a university or give a speech or present a new line of research. Each line, seam, and cut was as meticulously planned and coordinated as the words out of a book.

"I… I… I don't even know where to begin, Sir…" He raked his gloved hands through his hair. His teeth glowed in the firelight and his cheekbones lifted into a look of amazement.

"Do you love it, or do you love it?"

"Oh, I do, very much, Sir! I am amazed by your abilities. It's perfect. Nothing more, nothing less." He leaned back, propping one leg over the other knee, and closing his eyes, content.

"Ah, there will be a lot more on the way, and this is only the beginning. Just a sketch. I haven't even added embellishments yet."

Sir Claudius's eyelids tore apart at once. "Embellishments?" he asked, slight irritation in his voice.

"Yes, Monsieur, is there a problem with that?"

"Yes, I am decidedly against embellishments of any sort. I have seen too many men and women decorate themselves with adornments of all kinds—hairpieces, makeup, jewelry, 'embellishments', as you call them. When it comes to their outside appearance, they look to be the most enriched characters, but once you get to know them, they might as well be blank sheets of paper. I have always intended, and still do, for people to see me as a sleek book cover—such as with your sketch. No adornments, no embellishments. Merely a title will suffice. But nothing more. I wish for people to open me up and read me to get to know me."

Henri's eyes grew wide and he lowered the book. "Ah, I understand, Monsieur. But, if I may counter…"

"Go right ahead. I enjoy discussions." Sir Claudius waved his hand for the man to go forward.

"I understand your concerns over embellishments, Sir. And I agree to an extent, but, after my years of studying beneath many advisors, I have learned that fashion is not meant to cover your personality, but rather enhance it."

Sir Claudius scratched his beard, his two fingers creating a "V" shape around his strong chin. "I'm listening."

"Fashion is a reflection of one's personality, and on a larger scale, a culture. Fashion is an art, just as language is." Sir Claudius lifted his brows. "It is a hint, a hint at who you are. I do not have to put embellishments on every single outfit you have, but I would like to do it for a few, to reveal who you are to others. You do not want your future wife to believe that you are a bulky hunter, now do you?"

Sir Claudius pulled his large hunter cloak around him; it may as well have been a winter jacket. "No."

"Exactly. With a few embellishments, just a few, she will have a slight inclination of who you are."

"And what do you propose for these 'embellishments'?"

Henri looked around the room, his eyes searching for the answer. "Well, what do you take interest in?"

"I must confess I do partake in reading and writing. They are my passion, so to speak. I thought of professing actually, at a university in Ireland or England perhaps."

"You took me for a scholarly man. Why I made the suit." Henri gave a slight wink.

"Ah."

"What do you enjoy reading and writing?"

"I study myths and folktales, typically translating them into modern English from archaic texts or other languages. For the past several years, I have focused on dragons."

"Dragons!" Henri shouted, rumbling the castle walls. "That's it! That's what you need. You need both dragon and serpent embroidery. They can be red and gold, and black and silver. That's your color scheme, maybe a hint of blue with those eyes of yours." He commenced sketching.

Sir Claudius was taken aback. "Erm… I suppose. I trust you, Sir Clermont, and I am fond of dragons and serpents, but there is a negative connotation attached to the two. Are you sure this is fitting for a man seeking a wife?"

Henri stopped scribbling in his sketchbook at once, lifting the pen to his chin. "I suppose you're right. I'll just have to make the embroidery more approachable then. The embellishments will be small and hardly noticeable. I can make them beautiful even, with vines twirling around them and through them. Besides, the right woman would not mind such things."

Sir Claudius grinned.

"Although I…" Henri bit the end of his pen. "I have a question, Monsieur Claudius."

"Of course, Sir Clermont."

"I must admit," he chuckled, his eyes not lifting from the page, "although I am very skilled in fashion design… I have no talent whatsoever with language and advertising. My business is booming in Dublin and the surrounding areas, but I want it to be larger than that. I want to expand it all the way back to France, with multiple shops. But… I have a hard time communicating with people. Fashion, I can talk about all day. However, I find that some of my clients have been put-off by my passion, as they want to discuss other matters and all I want to speak of is fabrics and designs. It's what I love after all. But I digress, I need help advertising—some way to communicate with the people to make my business grow to what I want it to be. You say you love language?"

"Yes, Sir. More than anything, just about. I—"

"Great!"

Sir Claudius cleared his throat.

"Oh, excuse me. I interrupted you, didn't I? Pray, continue."

Sir Claudius wriggled in his chair to become more comfortable, straightening his cloak. "I intended to say that I used to spin yarns—"

"Oh, did you work under someone? I learned from one of the older women around here to—"

"Tales! I learned to spin tales."

"Ah… oh…. I see what you mean."

"And I see what you mean too," Sir Claudius muttered under his breath. He coughed into his fist. "I used to stand on the street corners of Dublin and tell tales of dragons from the days of old. People would gather to listen and ask questions. I don't do it so much anymore though because people don't really believe in them anymore."

Henri chuckled. "Sounds like you need a line of work, Monsieur."

Sir Claudius shook his head. "It's not so much that I long for work, Sir Clermont. It's that I long for interaction, communication. I'm so tired of being cooped up in this castle all day long. I want to go out amongst the people and talk with them."

"How would you like to do such things for me?" Henri looked up, sincere. It was the first time they had locked eyes.

Sir Claudius faltered. "I—I've never partnered with anyone before… I shall have to think about it."

"Yes, take all the time you need."

All of a sudden, a Grandfather Clock sounded throughout the hallways.

"Oh, dear! The time!" Sir Claudius yelped, his eyebrows knitted together. Wrinkles Henri hadn't even thought existed appeared across Sir Claudius's forehead. "It's time for you to leave."

"But I haven't even begun designing the furniture for the castle, or the tapestries, or the curtains! Or anything! Merely your wardrobe."

"Another day. It is time for you to go, though. Thank you for your time."

And with that, Henri Clermont was rushed out of the front door and greeted by the faint light of the evening sun. It darted behind the trees of the forest, the last remaining bits of light becoming sibilant whispers until fading into the blue of night.