"Never liked the stuffy formal wear of my world, can't say I'm any more thrilled about yours." Val said in complaint as he pulled at the tight collar of a dress shirt. Harken was directing a tailor that came with Joanne's recommendation.
The tailor was a middle-aged man who worked quickly with dextrous fingers, though he was not much for words. Much of his communication was primarily with Harken in low whispers, expressing himself with curling lips or clucking tuts.
It was approaching noon, and Val was only now learning of what he viewed as an unkind deception. While Asha's letter was already passed on to an envoy of the Emperor, meeting him in person proved difficult. So their task for the day would be to meet with the noble houses and rally support there, first. Unfortunately for Val, this consisted of banquets, dances, and endless closed-door meetings with high society. While this was apparently common knowledge to everyone else, everyone had failed to mention these details to Val.
Harken's one favor to spare the young swordsman from the worst of this fate was to have Val stand in as the mercenary lord's lieutenant and bodyguard. Harken was, if nothing else, thorough, dragging Val first to a barber for a haircut and a shave despite his particular mix of Asian heritage sparing him much facial hair growth. Val's hair was trimmed of its growing shaggy state, and he was immediately led to the tailor who was now fitting him with a black tuxedo suit — shoes, pants, shirt, vest, jacket, and all. Harken seemed to take great pleasure in the entire process, visibly dismissive of Val's discomfort as he handed the tailor some cufflinks engraved with the head of a mastiff.
The one peculiarity to the attire was a modification to the inner lining of the vest for Val to conceal the twin knives Harken had gifted him. Evidently, the concealment was for outward appearances only, as any simple pat-down would quickly reveal the foot-long blades.
"Remind me again why I need to even show up to this thing?" Val grumbled.
Harken smiled. "First, you have nothing better to do, and second, it would behoove you to take even a modicum of interest in Aurulian politics. Our Elven companion will be tied up till the evening with the Emperor's advisors. Besides, take it from a man who has walked both battlefields, there are times when the pen proves more effective than the sword. Of course, to convince them to take Lady Alevriasha's efforts seriously, it helps to be pleasing to the eye."
"Hmph. You might not think so after witnessing American firepower."
"Perhaps, but we are not here for the Americans, a point I would like to remind you of since I have confirmed survivors from your people are indeed being held in these lands."
"I heard you the three times this morning. I left my sword in Durnham's care. You don't need to worry about heads rolling over it."
Harken sighed. "Were it only convincing that you couldn't claim their heads without your sword..."
Val raised an eyebrow. "What do you take me for, some sort of rabid wolf?"
Harken shrugged. "Certainly not a dog, they behave better."
Val ignored Harken as the tailor finished tying a necktie for him. He detested formal wear ever since he was young, always finding them far too uncomfortable around his neck and far too warm for the islands he grew up in. While the neckline remained too snug for his taste, in the chilly December air, the suit was comfortable enough. At the very least, he did appreciate the sharp look.
Finished with the fitting, Harken spoke briefly with the tailor, settling the bill and arranging for Val's regular attire to be delivered to his room. Harken led Val out to board a coach to finally start their day. They were scheduled to attend a luncheon organized for the senators as a formal meet and greet. However, Val knew many smaller meetings of this nature had already occurred the night before in unofficial settings.
Harken took a seat in the carriage across from Val. "Remember, please use your full name today, do try to avoid nicknaming any of the nobility. They take terrible offense when you drop their titles. You are a lieutenant of the Black Dogs — a not entirely dishonest cover. You are here as my bodyguard and as a survivor of Draug attacks. You can let me do the talking, though you do not need to worry. I doubt many will broach conversation anyway, mercenaries are often looked down upon around here. The entire line of work is outlawed by the Emperor, even if I know for a fact every noble house has hired such services for more unsavory purposes."
"So they're going to be discussing the war effort? I might be able to provide some decent input."
"Mm, no. I doubt there will be any real talk of the impending war at this luncheon."
"Ugh, if this is a waste of time after all, why are we bothering?"
"There has been relative peace for a long time, most of the houses have neither experience nor interest in war. This topic needs to be handled delicately, they need to be brought around to see it as more of a... Business venture. There will be a banquet in the evening, by which time the Emperor should have reached some sort of decision. We need to ingratiate ourselves with the noble houses if we want to rally their support."
"Can't the Emperor just order them all to war?"
"Technically yes, however, in practice, that will not go so well. If we are to secure the numbers we want, we need the nobility. They will not find it difficult to sequester away the majority of their forces. If to simply satisfy the order, I doubt they would hesitate to simply conscript a few thousand of the peasantry and march them to war with hardly a bucket on their head and a sharpened stick in hand."
"You're right, swords, daggers, or no, I might just rip their heads off, anyway."
Harken smirked. "Don't despair too much, there are some among them that are truly noble and will support our cause. A few notable ones have already pledged their support, believe it or not. Duke Aurmayne has actually been trying to broker a discussion with the Americans for peace and an alliance. He controls nearly a tenth of all the standing forces of Aurulia, and he's a distant cousin of the late Emperor."
"So we have a war-nut eager to acquire the artillery we used to shell them back behind their walls, super, anyone else?"
Harken shrugged. "A few others, yes. Regardless of their ultimate intentions, the bottom line is that we are well on our way to secure at least fifty-thousand, and we have barely begun."
Resigning himself to spending the rest of the day itching in his clothes, Val stared out the window as they moved quickly along increasingly wealthy scenery. It did not take long before they entered an expansive estate where many other similarly extravagant carriages were parked. Val recognized a couple of senators he had seen the night before, as they exited their vehicles. Refusing to be helped, Val opened the door and stepped out himself, holding the door for Harken to maintain some level of appearances.
Val followed Harken into a large hall. There was a long table laden with food, and a couple of dozen circular tables. Some of them stood at a height more conducive to standing and lacked chairs, where others were more typical. Though with the limited quantity of chairs, it appeared the intention was for guests to stand and retire to one of many private rooms for more formal discussion. There were already many guests in attendance, with a wide age range from young to old represented, though no children.
No one appeared underdressed. If anything, the more muted appearance of Val and Harken in relatively plain suits stood out more. Red and gold appeared to be very favored by the Aurulian nobles, matching some banners he had seen around town depicting a crown, sword, and shield in gold on a red background.
Val followed Harken to grab some food for themselves, which Val was grateful for as he had no interest in dealing with the waitstaff. His goal was to grab some food and retire to a corner or table on the outskirts to while away the time.
Val smirked. "I'll be over there if you need something, 'sir.'"
Harken cast him an amused smile. "Hmm. Very well, I'll wave you over if I do. At the very least, try to enjoy yourself. Believe me, I understand your disdain for all of this pretense. Sigh, were it so simple as to march them to war to defend their own lands with a blade pressed to their back..."
Val leaned against a wall not too far from the food, picking at the fruit and some sort of charcuterie he had laden his plate with. While he stood out, nearly entirely in black against an otherwise colorful room, no one paid him much attention. He observed silently, struggling to imagine Harken on a battlefield as he watched the mercenary lord weave through the hall from noble to noble. A few words leaving a small gathering of nobles laughing, a cordial handshake with another, a toast over wine with some others. Harken appeared on track to make the rounds with every eminent guest in a matter of minutes.
The Aurulians did not appear to be particularly diverse. Val was not sure what their social standards and norms were. At the very least, whether man or woman, everyone seemed some manner of caucasian descent with lighter hair among shades of blonde, brown, and red. Harken blended in with his almost golden blonde hair while Val caught a few glances towards his nearly black, brown hair. Val shelved his annoyance and put on a stoic expression as he noticed a nobleman approaching him. He had slicked hair that looked bleached and must have been in his thirties or forties.
The noble smiled politely and offered a hand adorned with a large signet ring. "You must be Valtyr of the Black Dogs, I was just speaking with your master. I am Laurence, Lord of House Kaltwazer."
*'Master,' huh? Guess he's enjoying this charade.*
Val set his plate down on the table next to him and took the noble's hand in a firm grip before releasing it the next moment. He caught a look of displeasure pass over the noble's face for a brief moment. Val suppressed his amusement, but regardless of the importance of appearances, he was not about to kiss his ring.
"I am Valtyr, yes. What can I do for you?"
Laurence looked slightly taken aback but coughed into a fist slightly and composed himself. "I understand you are an eye-witness to the 'Draug threat' that seems to be floating around the rumor mill of late."
"Not much of a rumor, to be honest. I fought and killed some of them myself."
The noble spoke in an almost dismissive tone. "So I am told. Tell me, what do you think of this whole commotion?"
Val narrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"
"Well, even one such as yourself must have *some* opinion on this. You look terribly young, and you have next to no magical power, yet I understand you slew dozens of them single-handedly. I keep hearing that this is a threat to our entire nation, even the enigmatic queen of the Elves is up in arms about it. I am finding it difficult to reconcile these two pieces of information."
Val focused himself to avoid his magic flaring up, carefully maintaining his enchantment to hide his magic. "Are you calling me a liar?"
"Oh, no, no, I would not go so far as to suggest that. Though, I certainly cannot refute the word of Queen Ivarielle. So that leaves the esteemed member of the um... I'm sorry, what was the name of your troupe of sellswords?"
Val felt his patience running out as his anger bubbled up, despite not actually being a member of the Black Dogs. He spoke in a low, threatening tone while leaning in slightly. "Perhaps you would like to personally verify whether I am capable of the feat you seem to have heard so much about. I can even offer you some coaching on how to kill these drowned monsters. The flesh of their footsoldiers is tough and cold, but their bones are brittle. I would not recommend trying to snap their necks though since unlike yours, theirs were not nearly so soft, thin... and exposed."
Laurence paled slightly but nonetheless stood his ground, not taking a step back. Though Val caught a strange scent buried among whatever unpleasant cologne was wafting from the noble. It was a briny, sulfur smell that Val was very familiar with, growing up in the middle of the Pacific.
Val's expression darkened. He was more recently reacquainted with the scent, but they were close to the heartland of the continent. "Hmm, please excuse me, Lord Kaltwazer, but my master and lord of the Black Dogs did not bring me here to make idle chatter, and I can't afford to cost him face by shirking my duties."