Chapter 7 - New Clothes

Miktan awoke the next morning to a knock on his door, “Enter,” he said groggily as he sat up in the large bed. Jonson poked his head into the room, “I assume breakfast must be nearly ready?”

“Indeed sir, would you like to wake Master Matthew?” Jonson quietly and politely asked, trying not to disturb Miktan’s morning, as he always did.

Miktan nodded to him in reply as he swung his legs out from under the light covering he had used during the warm night. He let his legs fall over the edge of the bed. He stretched, joints popping and muscles stretching the sleep from his body. He rubbed at his eyes, remembering when he was younger and was able to be up and out of bed, ready for the day mere moments after waking. He envied young men like Matthew, they still had so much of their lives before them. Miktan hoped that he would be able to travel somewhere at least once more in what remained of his time.

He stood from the bed, stretching out his legs before moving to the wardrobe. He through open the carved maple doors and scanned through his outfits before finally finding one that appealed to him. He slid his arms through the sleeves of the white, silk undershirt, his fingers deftly doing up the buttons down the front with agility that belied his age. He stepped into the black slacks, tucking the shirt in before doing up the belt. He glanced to the mirror, assuring himself everything was in place before finally removing the jacket from the wardrobe. He traced his finger along the golden embroidery that ran the length of the arm, around the color, and down the front, standing out against the dark green material that made up the majority of the light coat. He slid his arms in before shrugging his shoulders, setting the coat comfortably into place. He buttoned a few of the buttons, leaving the top and bottom buttons open, before heading out the door.

Miktan took the back stairwell that ran past the kitchen and straight into the dining room. Matthew was already seated, the coat from his House Danar serving uniform from the night before draped over the back of the chair. He began to stand before Miktan motioned him to remain seated. He took a chair on the opposite side of the table from the young man.

“How did you sleep?” Miktan asked with a smile.

Matthew returned the smile, “When you are use to sleeping on the floor, or a makeshift hammock, a bed is a welcome change of pace. How about you?”

“As well as an old man can.” Miktan replied.

The boy sat wearing a clean white shirt, and Miktan assumed the black pants with the gray stripe that went with the serving uniform. I should take him to get some new clothes, Miktan thought to himself, though I doubt he’d use them, at least he would have them.

It still shocked Miktan how much Matthew looked like his father. His face was nearly identical, except a little thinner from the boys irregular eating habits Miktan assumed. He had the same body shape and height of Braas. The difference was in the eyes and hair. The black hair and dark green eyes were distinctly Helen.

Miktan poured himself a glass over water and began to drink, the cool liquid sliding down his throat, when Matthew spoke, “Miktan, is there anything else you can tell me about Gabriel?”

Miktan was confused for a moment before remembering the night before. He placed the glass down, taking the time to think things out, “Gabriel was a great man and an even better thief. Though, he hated being called a thief. He had a policy when it came to who he would rob. He would only steal from those that wouldn’t miss what he had taken, or people that wronged people, people that needed protection. That is what he truly saw himself as, a protector of the weak, not a thief. The world lost a great man the day he was killed.”

Matthew’s face was one of solemn reverence before a smile split it, “I hope that one day people can say the same about me.”

Miktan laughed, “I’m sure that one day they will boy,” and he took another drink. He had worried that his story the night before had depressed the boy, but he saw that it had only strengthened him, focusing him towards what kind of man he wanted to become.

Soon two of the kitchen staff entered the dining room, each one carrying a platter. Matthew’s eye widened at the food that was set before him. To one that lived as he did, stealing what he could to survive, the meal probably looked like a feast. Two more platters were brought in. One held various fruits, another with breads and pastries, the final two held meats prepared in different ways, most of it pork, but some beef and poultry was there also.

Matthew wasted no time getting into the food, piling his plate with food from the platters. One of the kitchen staff came out and poured each of them a glass of fruit juice before once again retreating to the kitchens to begin cleaning. Miktan began to place food on his plate also, focusing most on the fruit, but also taking a few pastries and some of the meats. The two remained relatively silent, making casual conversation as they ate.

The two moved to the library after they had finished their meal, not wanting to be in the way of the staff as they continued their cleaning. Almost as soon as they’d settled, Jonson entered the room holding a letter sealed with yellow wax. He handed it to Miktan who read his name, written in flowing script before turning it to examine the seal. He quickly recognized the hawk with wing flared and talons outstretched as that of House Kensly.

Breaking the seal, Miktan opened the letter.

        Miktan Lonstrat,

            It is my great honor to invite you to the Kensly Manor, two nights from today, to join me and my family in celebrating my son, Jaron’s coming of age. We hope that you will grace us with your presence.

            Lord Jaron Kensly of House Kensly

“What is it?” Matthew asked, adjusting himself in his chair in an attempt to see the invitation.

“It seems that Lord Kensly has invited me to his next party, celebrating the coming of age of his son, Jaron,” Miktan explained.

“Sounds fun,” the boy said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, “will you go?”

“Of course,” Miktan said plainly, “it would be rude of me not to. Lord Kensly has been nothing but kind to me, as well as the inhabitants of Garlin." A thought struck Miktan, which he pondered a moment before speaking, “You know, you could accompany me.”

Matthew’s eyes shot open, eyebrows rising higher on his face, mouth hanging open. He collected himself before speaking, a look of shock still lingering, “I… I couldn’t. I’m a street-thief, I don’t belong as a Lord’s party,” he paused a moment before continuing, “at least not as an invited guest.”

Miktan gave a pleasant smile, “Nonsense, you would simply be seen as my young protege. No one would know who you truly were and none would bother to ask. It may be beneficial for you to better understand how the other side lives.”

Matthew gave a suspicious, questioning look, “Now why would I need to know that? I think I got a pretty good idea last night serving most of them.”

“Last night you saw things from the point of view of a servant, this,” Miktan saw, waving the invitation, “would give you a look from the inside, seeing how they truly act and behave. How they interact with one another.”

“And how would that help me at all on the streets?” Matthew asked, apprehension was beginning to take its hold on the boy.

“You never know where your life might lead Matthew. The skills you would learn, the information gleaned, could come in handy down the road. You say you are a street-thief, but last night you managed to do something that Gabriel himself failed at, it takes more than a simple street-thief to rob Lord Danar without his knowledge,” Miktan gave another charming smile as he fed the boy’s ego.

Matthew shook his head in defeat, “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

“Of course not, though we’ll have to get you some new clothes before the party,” Miktan said, examining him. Matthew looked down at himself, looking back up with a frown, “For now, what your wearing will do fine, just leave the jacket, it makes the outfit too easily recognizable as a Danar servant’s uniform, we’ll visit my tailor today and get you something more suitable.”

“Vansen will be curious where I’m at,” Matthew said. Miktan figured the boy thought he had possibly found an escape.

“I will be sure he knows, I intended on sending Jonson to see him later today about his payment anyway,” Miktan smiled as he saw the last bit of resistance melt away from the boy. Miktan was glad he didn’t have to manipulate the boy’s mind with magic. It was an accomplishment to rationalize everything out to one such as Matthew.

Miktan motioned to Jonson, asking him to have the carriage prepared for them before looking back at Matthew who sat dejected in the chair.

—————

Matthew groaned as the rotund man took another measurement of his arm, holding the string against it before clicking to himself and writing something down. He stood on a short platform in the middle of the hexagonal room. Four of the walls were lined with mirrors, while plush chairs sat against one and the door leading out of the room occupied the other. Miktan sat in one of the plush chairs, a large grin on his face as he watching Matthew squirm on the platform. He felt as if he had been standing up there for near an eternity, though he knew it had only been a few minutes at most.

The tailor stood in front of him now, right hand on his chin, left waving through the air as if envisioning something as he mumbled to himself. Miktan swore that this was the best tailor in town, but Matthew just thought he was mad. The tailor had nearly attacked Matthew when Miktan told him that they needed an outfit for the event at the Kensly Manor two days from now.

“He is not large enough for any of the Rhodaron styles, they require a larger upper body, though he is too tall to fit any of the typical Garlin styles well,” the man stood pondering for a moment, hand waving before he seemed to have an epiphany, “I know, there is a style from Ugana that is taking hold in Beldin, with some slight modifications of course. It will be magnificent!” The man spun on his heels and rushed out the door.

Matthew looked at Miktan, his face showing only his annoyance, “Miktan, none of this is necessary, you don’t have to take me to this thing.”

Matthew had been trying to talk his way out of going to the event all morning. Every excuse he came up with, every counter argument Miktan met with rationality. Matthew had sense given up on logical arguments and was hoping to annoy the old man until he decided it was a horrible idea and canceled his offer.

“You are through the worst of it already, now it is just a matter of choosing the materials, patterns and cut,” Miktan explain with a calm tone.

Matthew was beginning to dread the fact that he and Vansen had ever stolen that flute from Miktan. The day was beginning to drag on. The carriage ride to the tailor took nearly three times as long as it should have as groups of soldiers made their way through the streets, seemingly keeping patrol just as the guards did, but in larger groups. Miktan gave no explanation for their presence when Matthew asked. He seemed to be just as confused as everyone else was. Now he was standing on this platform, having every fault and asset pointed out by a man a head shorter than he was and three times as wide. He felt as if the man had violated him, all in the name of fashion.

As if the thought had summoned him, the tailor darted back into the small room holding an already finished red coat. He handed the garment up to Matthew.

“Now, that will be a little large I think, but it should give us a good idea how the style looks on you,” the man said, barely breathing as the words flew from his mouth.

Matthew looked at the coat, then to Miktan, then to the tailor who was looking at him expectantly. He reluctantly slid his arms into the sleeves, pulling the coat up onto his shoulders and let it settle into place. The tailor was right, the coat was a little loose in some areas, but it was comfortable. He looked at himself in the mirror before him. Unlike most of the coats he had seen the nobles wearing the night before, which ended at their waist or just below, this coat hung to his mid-thigh. He liked the look, examining himself in the mirror. The coat split in the back near his waist, traveling the rest of the length to the bottom hem, allowing for freedom of movement of his legs and the material of the coat was lightweight and breathed well, which was good considering Garlin’s warm weather.

“Well?” Miktan asked, a tone of expectation present.

Matthew cringed at the thought of what he was about to say, “I… like it.”

“Oh excellent, I do believe that the cut fits you very well. Of course, it will fit that much better when it is tailored to your measurements. Now, I do suppose you will be wanting to see some materials won’t you?” Words fell from the tailor’s mouth in an continual stream and before either of them could respond he was out the door again.

Matthew raised an eyebrow as he looked towards Miktan before removing the coat, “Can I get off this thing now, I feel like a buffoon.”

“Yes, you can come down,” Miktan said with a laugh.

Matthew hopped off the platform, setting the red coat down on it before taking up one of the other plush chair against the wall.

It was a few more minutes before the man hurried back through the door, followed by three of his apprentices, each one carrying different swatches of cloth. Immediately the man was presenting materials of different colors and textures. Matthew rejected most of them, the colors two bright or gaudy for him. Many of the neutral and dark colors went into a pile for later consideration.

After was seemed like forever to Matthew they had gone through all of the different swatches and the man sat on the platform across from Matthew and Miktan, dismissing his apprentices.

“Now, with your darker hair,” the tailor began, “I would suggest darker tones for the cloth, with brighter threads for the accenting embroidery. Something similar to Master Miktan’s coat,” the man motioned to Miktan.

Matthew examined Miktan’s coat carefully, beginning to understand what the man meant. Matthew picked up a dark material, not quite black, but very close, “How about this for the material,” he pointed at a silver thread on the spools that the man had brought in with the cloth, “and then that for the embroidery?”

The tailor looked at the materials Matthew had suggested carefully, as if weighing them, “I do believe that would work well, an excellent choice Master Matthew, and excellent choice indeed,” the man took the material and made a mark with some chalk before setting it aside.

Finally, we’re done, Matthew thought.

“That will make an excellent combination for the first coat,” the tailor said, looking back to Matthew.

“First coat?” Matthew said shocked. The words came out harsher and louder than he may have intended, but he had been caught off guard.

“I thought that it might be a good idea to have a few outfits made,” Miktan said, looking at him with a grin, “so I’ve commissioned three outfits, though we only need one for tomorrow night,” the last part was meant for the tailor, Matthew was sure.

The tailor nodded knowingly to Miktan. You had this planned all along, Matthew thought, glaring at the old man who continued to grin at him.

“Now,” the tailor said, Matthew turning back to look at him, “what if we were to try this green material,” the swatch he held was similar in color to Miktan’s coat, though there was a slight pattern to it, almost not visible unless you focused on it, “I believe the color would match your eyes well, and with this earthy feel, we could do a bronze or maybe a gold embroidery.”

“Bronze, gold would be too much,” Matthew said plainly, anger still ever so slightly present in his voice.

“Very good, and what would you say to this red material,” the tailor said as he lifted the coat he had brought in before, “with perhaps the same silver thread as the first coat?”

“That sounds fine,” Matthew was beginning to grow weary of the overly energetic man. He reminded Matthew of Tavira in some ways, though more abrasive.

“For the material, is there anything you would prefer?” The tailor asked as he brought up new swatches.

“I’d want something that breathes well, is lightweight and I can move around in freely,” Matthew said almost cutting the man off from continuing.

The tailor pondered for a moment, looking through his swatches before pulling two out and handing one to Matthew, “This material is used by many nobles for their dueling coats, it is quite nice in my opinion.”

Matthew felt the material and tugged on it before handing it back to the man, saying, “Use that.”
The tailor paused for a moment as if he was still going to hand the second sample to Matthew. He finally set both samples down, setting the one Matthew had chosen with the others that were set apart.

“Now this style of suit,” the tailor started up again in his quick speech, “is often worn with a vest, the color matching the embroidery, and a white silk shirt. For the slacks, I believe a flat black for all of them, with matching embroidery of course.”

“Would it be too much trouble,” Matthew began, both Miktan’s and the tailor’s heads focusing on him, “for the shirt of the first suit to be black, or a gray maybe, instead of white?”

Both of them stared at him, Miktan with an astonished look and the tailor with a curious look. Finally the tailor began to speak, slowly at first, “Yes. Yes indeed, I do believe that would look marvelous,” his speech began to pick up as he went, “The darker shirt would accent the silver vest. Yes, that would look quite marvelous. I dare say that it would be something entirely new, unique to you, at first at least, until some other noble saw it and ordered it for himself. Yes, we will use black silk for the first shirt,” the tailor made it sound as if that were his idea in the end.

Miktan finally broke his stare and turned to the tailor, “If there is nothing else you need from us, I believe we will head home now.”

“Yes, of course, that should be everything. You said you need the first suit two days from now? And would you like that delivered to your residence Master Miktan?” The tailor asked.

“That will be fine. I thank you for your help in this, and your haste,” Miktan stood, taking the tailor’s hand as he rose.

Matthew followed suit, shaking the tailor’s hand and giving thanks before they turned to leave the man to his work. The tailor followed the two out of the small room and immediately began giving orders to those he had working for him as Miktan and Matthew left the building.

Matthew took a deep breath, glad to be out of the shop, “Well, that took longer than I’d hoped. I can’t help but feel that you are trying to change me Miktan, make me into something I’m not.”

“Nonsense boy, I’m simply trying to make you into something more. You never stop being that which makes you who you are, you only become something more. Do you honestly believe that I, the man that commissioned you and your friends for the job last night, am any different than the man who did those same things when I was your age?” Miktan raised an eyebrow and grinned at Matthew, “In the same way, do you want to live the rest of your life as a street-thief, barely surviving? Or do you want to become something? Become someone that can shape this world into something better?”

Matthew thought for a moment as the two climbed into the carriage, “I suppose not,” he said as the two took their seats.

“Good, now, Jonson and I are going to have to drill you for the next two days in hopes that we can pass you off as a respectable member of society.”

Matthew groaned, “I do know that I don’t want to become a noble, it’s far too much work.”

Miktan gave a hearty laugh, “Boy, you don’t know the half of it yet!”