We soon found ourselves standing in the grand palace dressing room, though calling it a mere "room" felt like an understatement. It was more like a palace within a palace, filled with rows upon rows of beautifully crafted garments, each tailored with care and precision. The space stretched on, filled with clothing for every rank and position in the palace, from the resplendent robes of the royal family to the simpler attire of the palace stewards. Every piece was hung meticulously in its designated place, separated by ranks and duties, creating a visual feast of colors and textures. The sight was mesmerizing; one could easily get lost in its beauty.
As we walked down the narrow passageways between the hanging clothes, I couldn't help but let my fingers brush against the fabric, curious to feel the rich materials I had only ever heard about. Silks, velvets, and brocades were all within arm's reach, each piece feeling as luxurious as it looked. For a brief moment, I forgot where I was, lost in the allure of the fabrics.
But the sharp gaze of the king's assistant quickly brought me back to reality. He hadn't taken his eyes off me since we entered the room. His suspicion from earlier still lingered, and the last thing I needed was to draw more attention to myself. I quickly pulled my hand back and focused on keeping my head down. I wasn't in the mood for another confrontation.
We continued through the dressing room until we reached a particular section of garments that were clearly meant for us—the palace stewards. The costumes, unlike the royal attire, were far more practical, yet still made from fine materials that spoke of the palace's wealth.
The uniforms were arranged by gender, with the male uniforms displayed on one side and the female ones on the other. The men's uniforms were made of thick, dark green wool, tailored to fit comfortably but with a sense of formality. The tunics had high collars and were fastened with brass buttons that ran down the chest. The trousers were simple yet sturdy, designed for practicality rather than show. Each uniform had the emblem of the kingdom stitched onto the sleeve, a reminder of the role we were expected to play.
The women's uniforms, on the other hand, were long gowns made of a deep burgundy fabric that was far heavier than I expected. The material was thick and coarse, clearly designed for durability rather than elegance. The gowns were simple, with wide sleeves and a modest neckline, cinched at the waist by a leather belt. The fabric draped heavily, making the garment feel more like a robe than a dress. The color, though rich, was dull, and the texture was rough against my skin when I touched it.
The Court Mistress, who had led us into the room, turned to face us. Her commanding presence was impossible to ignore as she spoke with calm authority.
"These will be your uniforms from this day onward," she said, her voice steady but firm. "They are to be worn at all times while you are on duty. You will find them practical for your work, and I expect you to keep them in the condition they are given to you. Should you damage or lose your uniform, it will be replaced at your expense. And believe me, none of you can afford that."
Her sharp gaze swept across the group, ensuring that her message sank in. "You are here to serve, and these uniforms reflect that. You are now representatives of the palace. Wear them with dignity."
Her words left little room for argument. As we stepped forward to choose our uniforms, I found myself growing more and more frustrated. The gowns—robes, really—were enormous. I sifted through the hanging garments, desperately trying to find one that didn't look like it would swallow me whole.
What in heaven's name is this? I thought, my face twisted in annoyance. These robes are way too big!
I rifled through the gowns with increasing frustration, pulling one after another off the rack only to find that none of them seemed to fit. They all hung loosely, draping over my body like a curtain. If it weren't for the belt, I'd look like I was swimming in fabric. I muttered to myself, searching for one that would at least feel a little more fitted, but there was no luck.
The more I searched, the more I could feel the eyes of the others on me, their patience thinning as I continued my quest for the perfect size. Every other person had already taken their uniform and was standing in line, waiting for the next set of instructions, while I was still digging through the racks.
Frustration bubbled up inside me. If it wasn't for this cursed situation, I wouldn't be caught dead in one of these oversized sacks!
Just as I was about to pull yet another robe from the rack, the Court Mistress's voice cut through the air, her tone sharp. "Enough!" she ordered. "Choose one and move along. You are holding everyone up, and this is not the place for indulgence."
Her voice sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn't loud, but the authority in her words left no room for disobedience. I glanced over at her, and the look on her face told me I was out of time. There was no room for more complaints or searching. Without a second thought, I grabbed the nearest robe and stepped back in line, trying not to let my frustration show any further.
I clenched the robe in my hands, biting back any more thoughts of dissatisfaction. It was just a uniform, after all. I had bigger things to worry about than how I looked in this oversized garment. And I certainly couldn't afford to make another scene. The Court Mistress had already forgiven me once, and I wasn't about to push my luck.
Once I had joined the rest of the group, we were instructed to go get dressed and report back as soon as possible for the next activity. As we moved toward the dressing area, I couldn't help but overhear bits of conversation from the others.
"I've never seen anything like it," one of the men said quietly, glancing down at his tunic. "It's so… stiff."
"Did you see the look on her face?" another whispered, referring to the Court Mistress. "I swear she could have cut me down with just a glance."
"She's strict, but it's for our own good," a woman muttered. "This is the palace, after all. We're lucky to be here."
I stayed silent, lost in my thoughts. It wasn't even 24 hours since I had arrived at the palace, and already I had drawn too much attention. I couldn't let that continue. I needed to blend in, follow the rules, and keep my head down if I had any hope of accomplishing my mission here.
But as I glanced at the massive robe in my hands, I sighed inwardly. This is going to be harder than I thought.
We all filed out of the room, heading to our quarters to change into our new uniforms. The palace seemed to swallow us as we walked through its grand corridors, the sheer size and silence of the place adding to the weight of the day. I could hear the soft clinking of the Court Mistress's shoes echoing in the distance as she led the way, her regal presence never faltering.
For now, I would play my role as the obedient steward. But in the back of my mind, the mission loomed large, and I knew that every step I took in this palace would need to be carefully calculated.
Just as we were about to take the path that led to the rooms reserved for stewards, a sudden shift in the air made us all pause. The soft murmur of voices along the corridor fell into an unnatural silence, replaced by a sense of something ominous approaching. Without needing to be told, we instinctively slowed our steps, feeling the cold tendrils of tension grip the space around us. Whoever—or whatever—was coming carried an undeniable weight, one that made the very walls of the palace seem to constrict as if bracing for impact.
The corridor seemed to darken, shadows creeping along the edges of the stone walls as if retreating from the presence that drew near. Footsteps echoed in the silence, slow, deliberate, and heavy, with each one sending a shiver down my spine. There was something unnatural in the rhythm of those steps, like the steady beat of an executioner's march. From around the corner, a small procession came into view, moving in perfect harmony, their rigid movements so precise it felt rehearsed—like an ominous parade.