Tailored for the Betrothed
The tailor Armed had summoned ahead of the winter solstice was an elderly man with a finely groomed mustache. He bowed deeply to her in greeting.
"It's been a while, miss."
"What do you mean 'a while'? We see each other pretty often even now."
"But it's been ages since you've entrusted me with a job."
Smiling faintly, he turned to Kriel and nodded in greeting. Kriel returned the gesture.
The tailor's eyes lit up as he appraised Kriel. "This is the one? What a magnificent build."
"Yeah. And my clothes too."
A brief exclamation of admiration. "Miss, have you finally found your destined partner? It feels like just yesterday you were heading out into the world as a mercenary, vowing to snag a prince from a fairy tale."
It was the right amount of teasing—possible only because he'd tailored clothes for the count's family for so long, and because he held no political power whatsoever. One of the few retainers who could jest so freely without offense.
But the tailor received more than teasing in return.
"Yeah. Make them a matching pair."
"Pardon?!"
A matching pair of formal uniforms. There was only one meaning behind that.
"Kriel, call him Judre Elder. He's been with us since my grandfather's time... and since the succession hasn't happened yet, he's served the Ket family for two-and-a-half generations."
"I'm Kriel. Armed's fiancé."
A smile played at the old man's lips. He beamed warmly. "Who would've thought this day would come! Miss, you really dragged a prince out of a fairy tale, didn't you?"
"He's not from a fairy tale."
The casual "he" spoke volumes of her affection. Judre could sense the fondness bubbling up from her heart.
"I'll do my absolute best."
Beaming with joy, the old man prepared his measuring tape. He had Kriel remove his overcoat first, securing any loose clothing, then began taking measurements. Starting with the shoulder-to-underarm width, then sleeve circumference, waist, and more—over ten spots in all, the tape darting busily but never repeating a spot. Expert precision.
"I could tell from your physique, but you're a knight through and through. What kind of monsters do you mainly fight?"
"Hold on, Elder. What are you thinking? This is for the engagement ceremony, not work clothes."
"Miss, a knight's formal uniform must always account for real combat."
Kriel immediately thought of the Western Front's grizzled commander. An old man obsessed with outdated chivalry—precisely why he'd clicked so well with Kriel. Had this grandfather served in the Demon King War too?
"No, Elder, wait. Special materials or enchantments... the budget's tight, right? The academy turned a profit, but we're swamped paying off debts."
"No worries. This old codger has quite the stockpile of materials. For enchantments, well, the head of that Abyss Prevention Society based in Ket County is said to be exceptionally skilled—just ask her."
"You mean work me for free!?"
"It's for your fiancé's attire."
Things were escalating. Since the engagement would dissolve anyway, Kriel started to say softly, "No need to go that far."
But then—
"Normally, we'd gift armor and a full sword set, but I'm no blacksmith."
"Yeah. Hard to top the quality of Kriel's current armor and blades anyway..."
Armed paused, thinking of that jet-black plate armor. Made by Eve Kaha's saintess herself.
"Fine. I'll work for it. Make it the best."
"Armed?"
"Elder, I'll dip into my savings too. Let's make it functional as combat gear. Since he mainly fights abyss entities, prioritize durable material over specific resistances."
"A match for the abyss! A direct descendant of those glorious knights from the Demon King War, then. For such a hero, this material will do nicely."
"Dwarven metal-woven thread? Pricey, but... go ahead. I'll cover it."
"Armed?"
"Kriel, your hair's already white, so all-white clothes might look too plain. Your pale complexion would dominate the vibe. Black, maybe? But then it overlaps with your armor..."
"...Give us a moment to talk."
Kriel grabbed Armed's shoulder and steered her out of the room. Judre chuckled—perfect timing.
Armed listened intently to Kriel's plea not to waste money on such things, then replied without hesitation.
"It's not a waste, so it's fine!"
"Custom suits are hard to resell. We'd lose on materials alone."
No reselling. Ever. Armed nodded vigorously. "You keep it."
"No..."
Armed stood on tiptoe, beckoning his ear. As Kriel leaned down, she whispered slyly.
"Hey. You're Ket County's hero. Just take it. It's payback for what I couldn't give you back then."
"I already got paid for that. Even more reason not—"
"Ugh, you chivalry-obsessed wallflower!"
The scolding nickname matched exactly what Morgina called Kriel. Orishin pondered this bizarre scene, then decided to ask about something more "businesslike" first.
But aren't you worried at all? Familiars and spirits keep buzzing around.
"What's the big deal? What can they do besides watch?"
Utter confidence born of skill. Her surveillance familiars would report back that she was brazenly preparing to introduce her fiancé without a shred of hesitation. No secrets when you're this bold.
"Worst case, they send an assassin? I just chuck a rock and done."
Her pink hair was tied up with a ribbon enchanted as an emergency sling projectile.
Kriel finally understood why Armed endured the social friction to stay in Ket County—and why no one in the count's household dared try to remove her physically. She was a walking siege weapon, ready to hurl boulders at the castle if provoked. And the ammo? Just rocks littering the county.
Kriel. I'm starting to think she's overworking compared to Morgina...
"Ha. Don't compare her to that weirdo who showed up just to see her champion bleed a bit."
"Actually, that's practically flirting for—"
"Quiet."
Master. Taking sides with another in front of your fiancée—especially a potential romantic rival—is unwise.
Tuon calling Morgina a "potential romantic interest" gave Kriel plenty to retort, but the front half rang true, so he shut up.
Our engagement's just contractual anyway...
With Kriel's measurements done, Judre Elder moved on to Armed's. Little had changed since childhood, but at her insistence, they started over.
"Shoulder width's the same as before..."
"Argh, measure again! I've grown a bit taller at least!"
Kriel was in the next room rummaging for lining fabrics he liked. But psychologically, with a door between them, he assumed his words wouldn't carry.
Judre, playing the sentimental old fool to perfection, decided to add a spoonful of sweetness to the young couple's romance. Armed wasn't one to express fondness openly in front of someone.
But with a door between them? Different story.
"Miss, I figured the one you'd kidnap would look... different."
"Kidnap? We've already agreed on everything!"
"You've always liked princes from fairy tales."
"...Well, he's no prince."
Armed's lips curved up naturally. "But he'd rescue the princess in any story. Not a prince, but cooler than one."
Perfect. The fiancé next door heard that. Time to wrap up the meddling.
"Miss, you're the same height too. No point remeasuring."
"...Measure again!"
Amid the minor commotion, Judre Elder easily finalized the design for their uniforms: sleek black-based attire. A safe, flattering color for both.
He worried briefly about the Ket family's drama, but a wise miss like her would handle it. No need for a mere tailor to meddle in succession matters.
Instead, he pondered the engagement. The knight pairing with her had a fierce look—intimidating to most. But Judre saw beyond the face to the whole body: a testament to relentless effort.
One thing was certain: Sir Kriel used his time well. If he brought that diligence to marriage, he'd never make her unhappy.
Sir Kriel. Soon, "husband" would eclipse the title.
Judre mulled the name. Sounds familiar... Fountain Square, maybe?