Elion woke up the next morning, knowing he had only two days left before the celebration party he planned to infiltrate.
'Alright, time for some shopping,' he thought, stretching. 'Valen, since you used to be a noble, you should help me pick something to wear, don't you think?'
[Of course. I may be stuck as a voice in your head now, but don't forget—I've attended more boring banquets than you've had hot meals. I'll even teach you proper etiquette for these occasions.]
'Perfect. I'll need all the help I can get if I'm going to blend in,' Elion chuckled as he got ready. 'I can't afford to stand out this time.'
[How much you can absorb before the party, though, is on you.]
Elion smiled at Valen's playful warning. 'No pressure, right?'
Elion made his way through the bustling streets of Varzinhein, looking for a clothing store that would have something appropriate for a noble gathering.
After a few minutes of walking, he spotted a well-decorated shop with fine fabrics on display through the window. He stepped inside, the scent of leather and silk hitting him immediately.
A finely dressed elf greeted him, her silver eyes appraising Elion with professional curiosity. "Welcome, young sir. Are you looking for something specific?"
"Yeah," Elion nodded. "I've got an important event to attend, so I'll need something formal."
The elf smiled politely. "You've come to the right place. Follow me, I'll show you our finest selections."
As they moved through the racks of luxurious outfits, Elion turned to Valen, 'All right, old man. Give me your opinion on what I should pick.'
[This will be fun.]
Valen's voice chimed.
[You don't want anything too extravagant—you're not a noble from this region, so blending in is key. Go for something sleek and dignified, but not gaudy. Ah, how about that deep navy suit with silver accents? It's elegant without screaming for attention.]
Elion walked over to the outfit Valen had pointed out. The deep navy fabric had a subtle sheen, the silver accents running along the collar and cuffs giving it a refined but understated look.
"Not bad," Elion muttered to himself. 'What do you think?'
[Perfect. Pair it with some dark boots and maybe a silver brooch. Keep it simple, but refined. This will help you blend in without drawing too much attention.]
The elf shopkeeper noticed his interest and approached. "Excellent choice. This is made from Varzinhein's finest fabrics. Would you like to try it on?"
Elion nodded and soon found himself in the fitting room. After slipping into the suit, he inspected himself in the mirror.
'Not bad,' he thought, straightening the collar.
[You look the part now. At least you won't be mistaken for some peasant wandering into the party.]
Elion smirked, appreciating Valen's approval. "I'll take it," he told the shopkeeper.
As he made his purchase, he felt a sense of confidence building. Blending in at the celebration would be the easy part.
"That will be one gold coin, sir," the elf clerk said with a polite smile.
'Damn, everything in this city costs a fortune,' Elion thought, wincing internally as he pulled the coin from his space inventory. He handed it over with a forced smile. "Thanks."
"You're most welcome," the clerk responded, her eyes gleaming as she pocketed the coin.
Elion left the store, his thoughts still grumbling about the price. 'These clothes better be worth it. A gold coin for a suit—ridiculous!'
[Stop being such a cheapskate. Clothes make the man, and you'll need to look the part. It's worth it.]
'Yeah, well, after this is over, the Blackthorn family better give me a reward that covers this ridiculous expense!' Elion grumbled, still feeling the sting of handing over the gold coin.
After purchasing the clothes, Elion returned to his room, tossing the outfit onto his space inventory.
'Alright, Valen, let's start these classes. I want to make sure I'm ready for this. Also, which identity should I use at the celebration?'
[Simple. Flash the princess's badge and say you're here on her behalf to congratulate young Dorian. Keep your story vague—the less you explain, the harder it is for anyone to catch you in a lie.]
Elion nodded, understanding the wisdom in Valen's words. He didn't want to overcomplicate things or attract unnecessary attention.
'You're right. Let's just hope they don't realize that this badge is only meant for scholarships in Eldoria.'
For the next two days, Valen ran Elion through an intense crash course in etiquette. They covered everything—from how to greet nobles, to the way he should carry himself during formal gatherings.
Valen's knowledge seemed endless as he explained the intricacies of social hierarchy, the importance of subtle gestures, and even how to walk with a certain grace.
[First, always bow slightly, but not too much—especially not to those of equal or lower rank. Stand tall and speak clearly. And for the love of all that is sacred, don't interrupt anyone.]
'Got it, don't interrupt,' Elion muttered, practicing his bow in front of the mirror.
[When drinking, hold the glass by the stem, never the bowl. And don't gulp it down like you're dying of thirst. Sip slowly.]
Elion sighed, "This is so much more complicated than I thought."
[Welcome to noble life. Also, if anyone asks you uncomfortable questions, deflect them politely. Something like, 'That's not for me to say,' or 'I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss such matters.']
Over the next couple of days, Elion practiced non-stop. Valen drilled him on table manners, proper greetings, and how to remain calm and collected even if the conversation took a turn for the worse.
By the end of the second day, Elion stood in front of the mirror in his new clothes, his posture straighter, his presence more refined. 'Not bad, I almost look like I belong.'
[You've come a long way. Now, let's hope no one notices you're faking it. Remember, confidence is key.]
'Yeah, yeah,' Elion chuckled. 'If I pull this off, I'll have you to thank.'
Before leaving, Elion placed a small spatial coordination mark in his room. If worst came to worst, he would at least have a way to escape back here.
As he stepped out of the inn, Elion felt a mix of excitement and nerves. The bustling streets of Varzinhein were alive with activity, but he focused on his destination: the Blackthorn mansion.
After navigating the winding roads, he arrived at the imposing estate.
The mansion stood majestically, surrounded by high, shadowed walls draped in thick ivy that seemed to whisper secrets of old. Turrets pierced the misty sky like dark sentinels, watching over the city below.
The architecture was a captivating blend of Gothic and dark elegance, with intricate stonework that spoke of craftsmanship and history. Large arched windows loomed above him, casting eerie patterns of light and shadow on the cobblestone pathway, adding to the mansion's enigmatic allure.
'This mansion has such an old-fashioned charm, quite a contrast to the futuristic vibe of Varzinhein,' Elion remarked, admiring the intricacies of the structure.
[Vampires tend to embrace tradition, so it's no surprise this design has endured for thousands of years.]
"Well, let's not waste any more time. The sooner we get this over with, the better."