Trends Are Made, Karlfeld & Deublique

If Rachel's advice could be summed up in a single line, it was this: in the finals, don't fight like a mage. Charge like a knight.

She spent a long while explaining exactly how that was supposed to work. It was not the sort of idea one could call up easily, and even Blow and Yulia, who had been listening with care, could only tilt their heads.

"Do you really think that would work?"

At Yulia's question, Rachel lifted a shoulder.

"You said yourself that if you fought twenty times, you'd lose nineteen."

"That's true, but..."

"Then why not throw in a variable, just once?"

"It's because the whole feel of it is different from my duels so far, Lady Rachel."

"Hmm? And here I thought you'd be worried about your image."

"It would still be better than folding again without a fight, the way I did at the Serdia Academia. If it actually works."

Yulia let out a long sigh. Rachel, the very person who had knocked her down, scratched her head as if the memory embarrassed her.

"I'm not telling you to win with it. The point is to burn through some of Herbena's mana early."

"Hmm..."

"And this Rachel Campbell will give you a crash course in how to handle your own body."

"Lady Rachel, I'm not saying this to please you, but I don't think a few days of lessons will be enough."

"I mean I'll get it to where you can actually use it in a real fight, alongside your magic and the way you apply it."

"It sounds like I'll have to move a great deal. I may even need to wear trousers."

"If you're going to do it, you should try something close to it in tomorrow's semifinal."

"That much is true. There's a world of difference between doing a thing once and doing it twice."

"First we send our Boss Blow on his way, and then the two of us get serious."

She said it with a grin, and Yulia's eyes narrowed.

"My lady? You wouldn't happen to be in need of a partner to loosen up with, would you?"

"That's not entirely untrue, but anyway!"

"Fine. I was going to prepare for the duel this evening regardless."

"If we go through with it, I'll need you to put in some time before the finals."

"Of course."

Blow, who had been watching in silence, smiled before he knew it at the thought that he might actually get to rest. The moment Rachel's eyes found him, they went sharp.

"What are you thinking?"

"Haha. Nothing."

"Looks like another strange thought to me."

"Would I, with two young ladies right in front of me?"

"Anyway. You tell Herbena about this, and you're dead."

"What exactly do you take me for?"

"The young master is quite serious about duels, so that won't happen, Lady Rachel."

"I know that well enough."

"If that's the decision, then in the finals—unlike every other duel, where you've worn a dress—you'll be in trousers, senior? They did suit you."

"You saw me when I was running earlier?"

"Yes."

The memory crossed Yulia's mind and flushed her face. Rachel chuckled, then went on.

"That'll draw every eye in the place, won't it? Yulia Edfolk."

"Yes. It would be rather unconventional. I ought to warn Deputy Maxim ahead of time."

"Why?"

"If he's too shocked, I think I'll feel hurt."

While the two of them traded idle nonsense, Blow Deblique's mind began to spin.

Eyes drawn to her meant a perfect chance to advertise for nothing. The mere thought that mentioning the potion shop and Hills in an interview would make excellent publicity already left him feeling full. A moment later his thoughts ran on to the trousers Yulia had mentioned.

There won't be any fabric for something like leggings. Hmm.

Then something struck him. He pulled out a notebook, sketched in a quick hand, and held it out to Yulia.

"Young master, what is this? I've never seen this design."

"If you had to call it something, it's like the uniform trousers our boys wear at school."

"For that, the rise is awfully long."

"Yes. I did that on purpose. It makes the legs look a little longer."

Blow indicated the waist of the drawing and explained with calm precision. What he was showing her was a kind of dress trouser—slacks. High-waist slacks, the belt line climbing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all the way to the waist so that the waist and the hips were thrown into relief and the legs looked longer.

Yulia, who only put on trousers to exercise or for a short while, tilted her head as if it didn't quite reach her. Rachel showed more interest than she did.

"Oh, these look incredibly comfortable. Like you said, the legs look longer, and if Skadi or Rebecca wore them, your eyes would take forever just climbing up. Still, our Lady Yulia is on the shorter side, so—"

"Honestly. Those two, and you, Lady Rachel, are just absurdly tall. I'm above average myself, you know?"

Yulia cut the sentence off, sounding thoroughly unimpressed, and Blow nodded as if she had the right of it. If one insisted on measuring, Yulia stood somewhere around five foot six. She was no Skadi or Rachel, who reached five foot nine, and certainly no Rebecca, who looked at a glance as if she might clear six feet—but still.

"That's why a design like this looks even better on someone who isn't tall. Clothes are also about how well they hide your weaknesses."

"So it's the sort of outfit that suits a girl like our Yulia?"

"Haah. My lady...?"

"Haha. Senior Yulia is on the tall side, just as you said. If anyone's short, it'd be about Herbena's height."

"Hmm? Was Herbena short?"

"Yes. About a handspan shorter than Lady Yulia. Of course, even that isn't something you can flatly call short."

Rachel snorted at that and shrugged.

"Anyway, you really do take an interest in the strangest things, Blow Deblique."

"Lady Rachel, did you know? They say Young Master Blow designed Lady Skadi's dress."

"What? People lost their minds over how beautiful that dress was, and this guy designed that too?"

"It just sort of happened."

"Hey. Next time, do one for me."

"I'll be asking for mine first."

I ought to sketch every one of those ceremony gowns I've had my eye on.

Blow was just thinking he should start that work as soon as he could when Yulia, who had been studying the design for some time, let out a breath and looked at him.

"You want me to wear this in the finals, don't you, young master?"

"Hmm..."

"Or I could bring you a prototype on Sunday itself. If it pleases you, you could wear it."

"Could it really be ready that quickly?"

"I'll speak to Karlfeld. I have to stop by his place tomorrow anyway."

"Then I'll write down my measurements now—"

Color rose in Yulia's face, and she changed course in a hurry.

"Please have that atelier come by here tomorrow."

"Ah. Yes, that would be better. You'll be busy."

Rachel ran a wicked look over Yulia's figure and laughed under her breath.

"Why? Afraid Blow might sneak a peek? Wouldn't that actually be better? I bet the numbers would come out—very impressive."

"Lady Rachel, not everyone in the world is as carefree as you."

"I just don't see why you'd hide something that good."

"Honestly. Enough."

"Let's see. If the chest is about that size, the circumference would be—"

"My lady!"

Yulia cried out, covering her chest. The mood had lightened, and Blow, who had been turning over whether to speak, decided this was the moment.

"I'll talk to Karlfeld tomorrow, then. But, senior."

"Yes?"

"Is Marquis Deschamp still at the hotel?"

"......"

Yulia's shoulders sank. After a moment she added, almost too quietly to catch:

"Yes."

"All right. I understand."

"Why, young master?"

"It's nothing. I was only curious. He might stop by Hills again."

"I've made sure that won't happen. He'll probably head up after the semifinals."

Yulia pressed her mouth shut. Rachel, reading her mood, cleared her throat and set to cutting her steak. Blow, for his part, sent a discreet glance back at Marchen—and Marchen had to think for a long while about what that look was meant to mean.

The next morning, at the entrance of Karlfeld Elegance in Caipol's central market, Liz was bowing to Blow again and again beneath a bright smile, while Karlfeld, the owner of the atelier, watched the pair with a thoroughly pleased expression.

"Young master, thank you so much for giving me an opportunity this generous! I'll become someone who can be of help to you. I promise."

Liz spoke with spirit, her eyes so full they looked ready to spill. Blow let out a soft sigh and shook his head.

"You don't have to."

"Pardon?"

"You just seem to be putting too much weight on yourself."

"Even so—even so, Melo sounds incredible just from the stories."

Blow, who had heard that Melo had lately made quite a place for herself even at the hotel, shook his head again.

"That's because Melo is a ridiculous kid."

"Even so, I'll do my best! I'll work really, really hard!"

Liz clenched her two still-small fists. Blow gave her head a light pat, then turned her gently toward Karlfeld.

"I don't care about the rest, but you have to be polite to Karlfeld and the people at the atelier. All right?"

"Yes! Mr. Karlfeld, I'll work hard from now on."

"Yes, Liz. Since Young Master Blow was the one who introduced you, I'll be expecting great things."

Karlfeld gestured toward the interior. A pleasant-faced woman came out and led Liz deeper into the atelier. The two of them watched her back in silence for a moment, then met each other's eyes and smiled at the same time, neither waiting on the other.

"Thank you, young master."

"Thank me? Because of Liz?"

"No. That's something we'll only know once we see how she does. The truth is, we made Lady Skadi's dress at our shop, didn't we? Because of that, a great many young ladies have come and commissioned dresses from us."

"I didn't spread the rumor all that well. Good that it worked out."

"Haha, young master. If anything, the more you try to hide a thing like that, the faster the rumor runs! Even so, thanks to you, Karlfeld Elegance has broken its all-time sales record."

He was in such fine spirits that the corners of his mouth looked ready to ascend into heaven. Seeing an expression that seemed about to lift clean off the ground, Blow decided he ought to say it now. He took out the notebook and held it out.

"In that spirit, I've prepared one more thing."

"Oh? And what is it this time?"

"Trousers. Women's trousers."

It was the high-waist slacks he had shown Yulia the evening before. Karlfeld studied them closely, clapped, and broke into a bright smile.

"My, these are quite good! The hip line comes alive. However did I fail to think of this?"

"I just wondered, without much thought, what it would be like if the girls wore our boys' uniforms."

"Oh my. Young master, is that your taste?"

For an instant the image of Jane Foresti dressed as a man flashed through Blow's mind. His face went flat, and he shot the words back.

"Let's both of us agree not to cross the line."

"Haha. A joke. Hmm... is this another design for Lady Skadi, who came by then? Or it also looks comfortable enough for your retainers to wear about."

"No. This is a design for Lady Yulia of House Edfolk."

"What? Heavens! That Lady Yulia of House Edfolk?"

"Yes. There's a duel tournament at our school this time—"

Blow went on, unhurried, through how the design had come to be. Karlfeld nodded along, then cried out in a flushed voice.

"What a tremendous scheme! The trouble is that the time is far too short."

"If it can't be done, it can't be done."

"No. No! It will be done. I am Karlfeld, young master. It isn't even a full custom suit—one pair of dress trousers. I'll stay up the whole night if I must and make the day!"

"If it goes well, you'll be the one who makes the trend."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Strictly speaking, you and the young lady will have made it, and I will only have set a spoon beside the feast. Even so, it's very fine to think I might claim even a share of it."

"And this is still only my notion, but I'd like the two of us to make a collaborative brand."

"Ah, so you were interested in clothes as well? I thought as much. You did ask about this and that last time."

"Less the clothes than the things that can make money."

Karlfeld gazed at him for a moment, then let out a short laugh and stroked his beard.

"Young master, the truth is I meant to propose it from my side first. This dress was very well received, and experimental besides, so I wanted your counsel now and then. How fortunate this is."

"As for dresses, a few people have already said they want my designs, so I think it's better if we sit down with you and discuss them when the need arises."

"What? You've already taken reservations?"

"Yes. Lady Yulia, whom I just mentioned, and Lady Rachel of House Campbell."

"Whaat? Rachel? That Black Blade Rachel?"

Karlfeld's mouth fell open in sudden shock. Even a man who dealt chiefly with nobles reacted so, and Blow found himself freshly startled by the weight those two names carried.

"Everything to do with the dresses goes to your Karlfeld Elegance. The brand I mentioned is separate. A brand a great many people can actually wear."

"Ah, so that was your thinking? I thought you meant to launch a dress brand of its own, apart from what you just described."

"In the end it's your tailors who bring my shabby ideas to life."

"Oh my. And you do know how to pay a compliment."

"If you need capital, say so. I'm collaborating with Lady Yulia, and she won't be stingy about investing in something like this."

"Hooh. You're collaborating with that Lady Yulia of House Edfolk as well? I thought the two of you were merely close."

Having heard that much, Karlfeld gave an empty laugh and tipped his head.

"Whenever did you grow like this?"

"I'm not entirely used to it myself. Anyway. Yes."

"Might I have the honor of placing my name on this new clothing brand?"

Asked in that suggestive tone, Blow nodded.

"Go ahead. Your name is already a brand. And it's a fine name, isn't it? Karl. Feld. All the more for a clothing business."

"Your own name is handsome enough, young master. Then what would you say to Karlfeld & Deublique?"

Karlfeld set the words down in a flowing hand.

Blow looked at the result, smiled, and nodded.

"Very good. We'll fit the details together later. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Only—this moves quickly only if Lady Yulia wears your trousers in the duel."

"Understood, precisely. Has Lady Yulia asked for me separately, by any chance?"

"I've just called one of her attendants this way."

"Ah. Then shall I go with that person?"

"Yes. I have something brief to discuss with her, so I'll take a cup of coffee and bring her back. Though it does feel a little soon. School will let out late."

"Not at all, young master. I'll wait as many hours as it takes! And if it's Lady Yulia, that's Hotel Edfolk. I've wanted to stop by for a long time."

Karlfeld's voice trembled, just faintly. For a man who made clothes, to be told he might make a trend—there was probably nothing in the world more stirring than that.

Once the finer points were settled, Blow stepped outside and stretched his arms overhead, working the stiffness out of his body. Come to think of it, how long had it been since he had gone about alone? It felt easy, and a little dull. The reason he was out by himself was simple enough: Megan had gone down to Blanya that morning, and not a single spare hand remained.

Her face as she said it had not been an ordinary one. But anyway. Rachel, who would normally have clung to him complaining that she was bored, had declared since yesterday that she would help Yulia prepare for the duel whenever she had a spare moment, and had gone off to the school. For those few reasons—

"Young Master Blow?"

"...You're here."

—he was able to meet Marchen, Yulia's own confidant, alone like this.

"May I ask why you sent for me so suddenly?"

"Shall we go to a coffeehouse first and talk briefly?"

"Yes. Let's."

"You saw Hans in front of the hotel this morning, didn't you?"

"Yes. I met him for a moment. Thanks to that, I saw Miss Melo's face for the first time in a while as well."

"Impressive, catching on from a single glance."

"You flatter me. But if I hadn't caught on, what were you planning to do?"

"I'd have stopped by before I came here, I suppose. It would have stood out a bit more, of course."

They walked for a while. Then Blow pointed down an alley barely wide enough for two people to pass.

"Let's go this way. It's a shortcut."

"Yes. You seem to know the streets well."

"I just ended up coming and going, and—"

There Blow had no choice but to stop. A hulking man, his shattered jaw braced with iron, was glaring at him as if he meant to kill him—and then heaved the blade in his hand high into the sky.

"Hm?"

"Nnngh—!"

In the instant a briefly startled Blow took one step back, the blade caught the sunlight and flashed, and Marchen's scream rang down the alley.