The unfeigned goodwill felt in the owner’s gaze was unbearably burdensome. While the owner briefly stepped away to fetch what was needed to take measurements, Yuder lowered his voice and whispered quickly.
“When did I ever lead any trend in ceremonial attire? As I recall, the one who chose my clothes every time was you, Commander.”
“Right. I chose with care and dressed you. People wouldn’t have thought you selected your ceremonial clothes yourself.”
“Then why.......”
“But that doesn’t mean you didn’t look beautiful wearing ceremonial attire.”
What was that supposed to mean.
Seeing Yuder’s furrowed brow, Kishiar wore a satisfied expression.
“I heard that this social season there were many who imitated you from your hairstyle down to the shoes that covered your feet. In fact, the ceremonial attire we wore at the party where we danced the Abitan was especially popular—so much that knockoffs flooded the scene.”
Who chose the clothes didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact that in places where all eyes gathered, Yuder Aile’s appearance left a deep impression.
Though Yuder himself didn’t know it, the ceremonial outfits he had worn had all become great topics among the nobility. To those who held the prejudice that no matter how a commoner-born dressed up, rusticity would inevitably show, the sight of Yuder Aile in formal attire was truly a shock.
The ceremonial dress Kishiar had painstakingly arranged for Yuder made his inherent aura and physical allure stand out at a glance. Though outwardly it didn’t look especially gaudy, he stood out more than anyone.
Contrary to all manner of filthy rumors, the real Yuder was a young man with neat features, clean skin, and a mood like a keenly tempered sword. His unshaken, upright posture and well-trained body displayed the beauty of the garments to the utmost, and his long, well-proportioned limbs drew the eye simply by standing there.
Watching Yuder in ceremonial dress perform the etiquette required in a ballroom with effortless perfection, people recalled the rumor that he was in truth a descendant of a noble exiled from another land. Before that strangely lofty, downward-looking gaze, even those who had dared to approach him carelessly found their mouths closing without realizing it.
Nobles accustomed to the beauty of those lavishly adorned like young peacocks were utterly stunned by the exact opposite aura emanating from Yuder.
The exemplar of the former was, of course, Kishiar la Orr. There were truly many trends in society led by the Duke of Peleta, but following a man whose face was extraordinary from birth was not, in truth, all that easy.
But Yuder Aile was different. One could not change one’s posture or body proportions, but what he wore and bore looked as if it could suit anyone.
He was classical yet elegant. Overflowing with ease, and at the same time, he looked dangerous—as if the slightest touch of a fingertip would mean death. Humans sometimes feel a breath-stopping pull toward those who seem they could kill them at any moment.
If reduced to a single word, one could call it: captivating.
Yet even if one knew that in one’s heart, one disliked acknowledging it with one’s head. People noisily insisted that all of it was thanks to the greatness of Yuder Aile’s ceremonial attire, shoes, and hairstyle.
To be able to stand beside the Duke of Peleta without being overshadowed in the least, even without comparable splendor, was truly an extraordinary thing. Thus Yuder delivered a novel shock to Orr’s society, unlike anything seen before, several times; and without even knowing it himself, he became a leader of fashion.
“Now... I’ll begin. Please take off your coat.”
While Yuder was gauging whether Kishiar’s words were a joke or not, the owner returned. The gaze in her eyes, holding a tape and paper, was sharp and serious, unlike the ordinary look from a moment ago.
Yuder let out a short sigh and quietly took off his coat. After removing even the uniform jacket, only a black shirt that covered up to his neck and trousers remained. It was similar to what he wore when training.
“Could you spread your arms slightly?”
When Yuder raised his arms, the owner swiftly placed and wrapped the tape here and there, beginning to record figures. Kishiar sat sunk back in the chair with arms folded, watching with deep satisfaction.
‘To be honest, I also remember the measurements from before.......’
The last time he’d had measurements taken for ceremonial dress had been in the South. Not much time had passed since then, so even if they made it with those numbers, it shouldn’t be greatly uncomfortable.
But if he thought back, whenever there was a need to dress Yuder in ceremonial attire, Kishiar had personally watched this scene of taking measurements like this. He didn’t know why, but since he seemed to like watching it, Yuder simply decided to behave quietly this time as well.
“The weight you lost in the South has clearly recovered.”
With no thought in mind, he turned when told to turn, lifted a leg when told to lift—when suddenly Kishiar spoke softly. After confirming that the owner was still wholly focused on taking measurements, Yuder answered.
“......Has it? That’s a relief.”
“Shuseiner will be very pleased to hear it. The treats she’s been diligently sending from Peleta will have paid off.”
That reminded him he should send the newly made tea powder to Peleta as well. Yuder nodded, recalling the faces of those he’d met in Peleta.
“I’ll write my thanks like that in the next letter.”
“All done.”
Setting down the paper she had filled perfectly, the owner smiled. Next came the time for a full-fledged consultation on the ceremonial attire design.
From here, Yuder simply stepped back. Kishiar was conversing with the owner more earnestly than anyone, but no matter how he listened, he couldn’t understand why such lengthy debate was being waged over a single figure.
‘Still... he does seem far more delighted than when we had ceremonial clothes made elsewhere before.’
First, Kishiar listened to the design and form of the attire the owner would make, then, as if nitpicking, he kept bringing up one point after another, asking if it couldn’t be made a little differently. The owner, though flustered, was doing her best to answer somehow.
“To make the length and width of the second boundary belt tied at the waist different... you mean. If we touch it that far, it’ll deviate excessively from convention.”
“They say envoy attire must observe the colors, shapes, and ratios set by custom, but that’s only custom.”
“Since it’s clothing that must show the beauty of the Empire, wouldn’t there be a reaction that it lacks propriety?”
“We’re not changing the entire form. If we can keep the fundamentals, no matter how different other parts are, no one will doubt it’s ceremonial attire. I don’t think the form of that previous attire you made would be bad either. That too was taken from the style of the era of the Ninth Emperor, wasn’t it?”
“Y-Yes, that’s true, but if applied to envoy attire, it will look too lavish.”
“We have to fit as many as seven sets per person—if they’re all the same, it won’t be any fun.”
“But I’m not making all seven, so if what I make looks excessively different from the clothes others make, it won’t be harmonious....... I think there will be various opinions, anyway......”
“Mm? Didn’t I tell you when making the reservation?”
With a smile on his lips, Kishiar tilted his head.
“All fourteen sets that my aide and I will wear will be entrusted to your atelier.”
“Pardon?”
“Oh my. You truly didn’t know.”
The color drained from the owner’s cheeks.
“P-Please wait a moment. I... accepted the reservation thinking even a single set would be honor enough. There have been such cases before. But for you to entrust all the attire for both of you to a newly established atelier....... There is no precedent for this. I’m overjoyed that you’ve judged my skill more than it deserves, but if other ateliers learn of it, they will never permit this.”
“Is that so? Precedent......”
Something in Kishiar’s eyes deepened.
“It’s a chronic bad habit of the Empire. Being bound by precedent and not even trying what isn’t in it. Calling those who try to change unsightly, and making them fear to challenge.”
“.......”
“Let me ask one thing. Do you not want to make these clothes? Leaving aside other ateliers and such, I’d like you to answer by weighing only your own heart.”
For a long while the owner said nothing. Then she lowered her head and answered in a small voice.
“...Of course, I want to make them. It’s the opportunity I’ve dreamed of.”
“But you’re afraid you’ll be criticized by other ateliers for being overly greedy. To be precise, by the atelier you left.”
The owner bit her lip. It seemed she truly hadn’t left on good terms.
“I’ll be frank. I came here because I wanted to break the custom I just spoke of. So I want you to take on this work. Even if you don’t, I don’t intend to go to the places that handled envoy attire before.”
“Ah.......”
“What would make you think it’s fine for you to take on all of it? I’d like to hear your view.”
Kishiar smiled with perfect composure. He looked like a man who had come here to say precisely this.
‘No. Perhaps he truly.......’
Yuder suddenly recalled what Kishiar had said on the day he dressed in the harvest festival ceremonial attire.