Chapter 51
Chapter 51
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: The Princess's Coming-of-Age Ceremony (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The conquest wars had spurred the development of countless technologies.
Clothing was one of them.
Fashions flowing in from various cultures had a significant impact on the empire's clothing industry.
Trends that started among the nobility quickly spread to merchants who had made fortunes from the wars, bringing major changes even to commoners' attire.
Yet fashions shifted as rapidly as the expanding territory.
In a cutthroat market where even trendsetting artisans were weeded out if they couldn't keep up, the owner of Laurel Tailor Shop, Andrew, had survived to become the finest suit craftsman.
His skill was said to surpass even the palace's top tailors, and I agreed.
"Wh-what? An imperial carriage?"
"With a knight order escort, it must be from the palace."
"Red cloaks with the Imperial Dragon seal... It's the Imperial Dragon Knight Order!"
"Could His Highness the Crown Prince be in the capital?"
The already bustling capital grew even noisier because of me.
High nobles were a common sight in the imperial capital.
An imperial carriage wasn't anything special, but the eight-horse carriage emblazoned with the Imperial Dragon was a first even for them.
The seven knights riding escort on horseback were no ordinary sight either.
Their fully armored威勢, with red cloaks billowing, was in a league no other knight order could match.
It was Germin's idea to lead the first outing since reviving the knight order.
Behind them marched about thirty imperial soldiers in perfect formation.
In stark contrast to the noisy streets outside, the carriage interior was silent.
Inside rode Arel and I on one side, with Germin and Halbert opposite.
Halbert was serving as Caliburn's stand.
'It's not a bad thing to show off...'
For a simple outing to get a suit fitted, this was excessively lavish.
But since we'd brought it, we might as well use it.
"Hand me Caliburn."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Halbert passed me Caliburn, which he'd been cradling like a treasure chest.
Germin drew back the carriage curtain.
I lifted Caliburn and slowly waved toward the outside.
"Ca-Caliburn!"
"It's His Highness the Crown Prince!"
"The real Crown Prince!"
Something I couldn't do in the past.
Malfiel had been too good at it.
Showmanship.
Drawing people's attention and focusing it on me.
They didn't know my face, but they knew Caliburn.
Every citizen in the capital had tried pulling it at least once.
Most just stared in curiosity, with no big reaction.
From their perspective, the Crown Prince was a novelty, but all I'd done was draw the sword, so they didn't know how to react.
With all the vicious rumors about the Crown Prince, those who couldn't hide their expressions simply lowered their heads.
"It's not Lord Raunel?"
"I had high hopes since it was an imperial carriage..."
Some were even disappointed it wasn't Raunel.
Still, when our eyes met, they shouted "Long live Crown Prince Reinhardt!" and pretended to be thrilled, which was something, at least.
If the capital was like this, it was obvious how I'd be viewed farther from the palace's influence.
Perhaps thinking I was disappointed by the lukewarm response, Germin spoke up.
"Your Highness, perceptions don't change easily. Don't be impatient."
"Do I look impatient?"
Germin checked my face and eyes, then shook his head.
"...I'must have misread it. You seem to be enjoying this."
Exactly.
As Germin said, it was amusing.
Genuine reactions I never saw under past reign of terror.
Their eyes on me weren't soaked in fear—that alone was fascinating.
Those raw, unfeigned responses proved prejudices against me were still minimal.
Rumors could be buried under bigger ones.
By watching how they changed, I'd know better the path I was on.
Whether those eyes would turn to fear or something else later, even the gods wouldn't know.
"Your Highness, is this the right place?"
We'd gone deep into the capital before arriving at the Laurel Tailor Shop.
Germin swallowed hard as he eyed the exterior.
A lone laurel leaf on the signboard.
A few suits visible through the window were the only hint this was a tailor shop.
For a high-end suit shop, it was small and shabby.
"Mm, we'll see once we go in."
Inside was surprisingly clean, unlike the exterior. No musty tailor shop smell either, so it was well-maintained.
"Welcome...?!"
A girl with her hair in a ponytail jumped in fright at the sight of me.
I ignored it and asked.
"Is this the Laurel Tailor Shop?"
"Y-yes, Your Majesty! Just a moment! Dad!!!"
She bolted to the back room and dragged out a man.
Flush-faced. Reeking of alcohol.
His bushy beard and disheveled clothes made it hard to believe he owned a tailor shop.
But even drunk, he'd sober up facing imperial folk.
"My dear! Wh-what an honor for such esteemed guests to visit this humble... ah, no, for such nobles to grace our lowly shop..."
"Are you Andrew?"
"Y-yes, but... I..."
Germin answered.
"It's His Highness the Crown Prince."
"Kuh! Cough! Cough!"
Andrew, hacking as if choking, slapped his cheeks repeatedly, fighting the alcohol as he dropped to his knees.
"I see the great Crown Prince, Your Highness."
"Enough. Stand."
Fear flickered in Andrew's eyes as he rose unsteadily.
He couldn't fathom why the mad Crown Prince would visit his rundown shop.
No matter how he thought, it led to dark imaginings.
'He won't take my daughter, will he?'
What if he did? Was the rumor about bathing in children's blood true?
"Crown Prince, Your Highness... how did you find this worthless place?"
"Why do you think I came to a tailor shop?"
"To... look at clothes...?"
"Yes. But is this all?"
"Y-yes, it is..."
The racks held only utterly ordinary suits.
Mainstream, nothing special.
A far cry from his past innovative designs that made his name.
Back then, he'd been clean-shaven and sober.
"Um, excuse me?!"
I headed straight to the back room without pause.
A staircase to the basement caught my eye.
Down below was a completely different world.
"Not bad."
The spacious basement held cutting tables.
Silks, fabrics, tailoring tools everywhere.
Glass cases displayed bold, experimental clothes.
Ornate duke-style headdresses, coats in unusual hues, heart-shaped necklines.
Styles unseen in this era.
"If you want a suit for a party, better pick from upstairs."
Andrew said with a bitter expression.
His designs were mocked by other tailors.
Nobles ignored them.
He'd begged until his hands blistered, but no noble would flaunt clothes from an unknown tailor.
'Go ahead, laugh it up.'
But my reaction far exceeded Andrew's expectations.
"Why? These are way better than the ones upstairs."
"Pardon...?"
His face said it couldn't be.
Had he lost confidence in his own work?
"I'll pick from these for now. Arel."
"Yes."
"Choose what you like."
"..."
Arel froze like stone.
Her eyes scanned the basement displays.
I could guess why.
"Arel, do you sleep in armor too?"
"At night... I wear nothing."
Naturalist. No, natural dark elf.
"So no other clothes besides armor?"
"I have some, but they're uncomfortable... Only wear cotton shirt and pants when I'must."
Her voice trailed off.
I sighed softly.
Guess I'd have to pick for her.
If there was one thing I was good at in the past, it was clothes.
An emperor had seven types of tops alone.
Over ten including bottoms.
Impatient me wouldn't bother changing daily.
Even maids took too long.
So I simplified, but added style.
With all I'd seen in the revolutionary era and my own eye, styling Arel wouldn't be hard.
"Try this one."
At my choice, Andrew and Halbert got busy.
Changing outfits, with Andrew's daughter covering intimate areas during fittings.
'A bit disappointing.'
Combinations were good, but sleeves too long, lines off.
Arel's proportions weren't average.
Each ill-fitting change made her squirm awkwardly, toes twitching.
Andrew and his daughter gaped at helmetless Arel.
A dark elf!
Even bare-faced, she glowed. What would full makeup do? As tailors, they knew.
"Y-Your Highness."
Turning, Andrew stared seriously.
"Are you selecting attire for Princess Carnel's coming-of-age ceremony?"
"Yes."
"...!"
Princess Carnel's ceremony was four days away.
No choice here, I'd have to wear whatever.
'Why pick such an important party outfit here?'
Andrew felt dizzy.
The capital had famous tailor shops aplenty.
One alley over was Moonlight Tailor Shop, favored by top nobles.
Run by a renowned noble tailor, a suit there cost as much as a warhorse.
Materials same, but name made the difference.
"You're eyeing me like 'why here?'"
"Y-yes. Embarrassing to say, but no nobles seek clothes from an unknown like me."
Why would even the Crown Prince want what nobles shun?
"What's the difference between your clothes and theirs?"
I ran my hand over fabric on the cutting table.
Silk.
Top-grade.
All earnings poured into quality materials.
His suits cost a tenth, a hundredth of famous shops, but used same fabrics.
Better clothes over profit, his stubborn pride.
"...Excluding design, none."
"Your skill outshines theirs too. Yet yours sell cheaper for lack of name."
Untalented fame gets third-rate treatment despite skill.
Andrew was speechless.
Anyone else would've mocked my ignorance.
But it's the Crown Prince.
And.
"More important than who makes it is who wears it."
He knew the industry well.
That's why he'd hustled.
But no nobles backed his designs.
Commoner-made noble wear? Just ridicule.
His drive and confidence gone.
"I'll wear it."
"Ah..."
Drunk dream?
Too much liquor.
If dream, better wake from false hope.
Slap!
Andrew slapped his cheek.
It hurt.
Mind cleared.
Thud!
He knelt earnestly.
Bam!
Knees bruised, forehead scraped on floor.
"Your Highness. Give me three days. Just three, and I'll make you two shine brightest at the party, in the world. I stake my life."
This was opportunity.
Once-in-a-lifetime chance, never again!
He couldn't let it slip.
*
At that moment, nobles gathered at Moonlight Tailor Shop.
One of the empire's top three, run by a master artisan.
"Heard? Crown Prince went to Laurel Tailor Shop."
"First time hearing it. Famous enough for him?"
Shop owner Oscar stepped in.
"Shabby place run by a commoner tailor."
"Then why go there?"
"No idea... But if eyes don't deceive, he won't pick from there."
"Of course. No noble wears commoner designs."
It'd just be a joke.
Especially for Princess Carnel's ceremony in four days.
Top nobles, foreign royalty, tycoons attending.
To stand out, splurge on noble tailor outfits.
"Isabella. Nothing you like? Shall we try elsewhere?"
"...No, brother. I'll look a bit more."
Isabella.
She was there too.
Her house, Versailles Countess's, invited to the party.
A sibling was to represent, but she insisted and barely returned to the capital.
'Crown Prince Reinhardt right beside me...?'
We'd agreed to be friends.
But hard to approach knowing he was there.
'...See him at the party.'
Her swordsmanship had improved greatly.
Following his advice, hired a mercenary for custom training—huge gains.
Her talent recognized, her knight dream gaining family traction.
She wanted to show off soon.
Isabella sighed softly, setting sights on four days hence.
[The Princess's Coming-of-Age Ceremony (2)] End