Rey should’ve known that Calvin wasn’t going to take it easy on him.

He’d only managed a couple of hours of basic training with a wooden sword before he’d slunk back to the castle, battered and bruised but feeling more alive than he had in years. 

He ate ravenously that night, piling portion after portion of decadent roast and vegetables onto his plate. He was sure he didn’t imagine the pleased expressions of the servants who’d served him.

But Calvin had still let him choose a utilitarian longsword from the wall to keep in his quarters. Motivation, he’d called it, then helped Rey strap the sword to his hip before he left the field. After dinner, Rey tucked it away in an ornate dresser and settled in for the evening.

It wasn’t until the following morning that the soreness truly set in. 

Icarus helped Rey into a warm bath for his aching muscles before he dressed and called for the staff to prepare a wagon to head into town. 

The King had left a bundle of coins for him with a note to spend whatever necessary to prepare for Lady Sophia’s party. Rey fully intended to make full use of his generosity. 

After all, he'd literally paid for it in blood.

There wasn’t any time to waste. He needed more time than less, given a total lack of familiarity with the fashions of Tien and the empire writ large. Bungling the party could mean alienating one of his only friends in this place, or worse — risk offending one of the King’s closest advisors.

He couldn’t lose the King’s good opinion. He had no one else here.

It took about an hour of leisurely travel for them to slow in front of a tailor’s shop on Tien’s main road. Rey did his best to ignore the quiet whispers of Tien residents as he stepped down from the carriage, cloaked in thick fur and leather.

“My Lord,” a shop assistant greeted, with a bow so deep it looked painful. “We are delighted to see you. What is it we can assist you with?”

Rey presumed the insignia on the carriage gave it away. That or his distinct appearance and…scent. He stiffened as one of his guards shifted closer. “I’m looking for something to wear to a noble birthday. It will be in the afternoon.”

“Ah! Please follow me.” The assistant said brightly. Rey was lead to a cloistered room in the back, sparsely populated save for a few noble-looking customers. Their manners meant they stayed silent, sending cloying looks of admiration his way. 

“Lady Sophia’s party, I presume?" The shop-assistant asked. "We have a wide selection of jeweled tones and pastels that are in fashion.”

"Yes," Rey answered, voice tight.

"Wonderful! Give me just a moment, I've some fabric options in the back with my kit."

The silence of the room was almost worse than the prying whispers of the streets. Rey hovered near the wall, arms wrapped around himself beneath his voluminous blue cloak. At the doorway, his guards lingered, eyes assessing the other occupants. 

“Good morning,” a demure voice purred. The sound startled Rey, who just barely managed to keep from flinching. “How wonderful to finally meet you in person, my Lord.”

The man was tall and fair, with slick, chestnut hair. His deep blue eyes were sharp and thoughtful. Rey tipped his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t —” 

“Ah. Yes, of course not.” He pressed a kiss to Rey’s gloved knuckles. Was that normal here? Particularly from a stranger? “My name is Andreas Laurent. I belong to one of the few titled human families here in Tien.”

“I see,” Rey told him, drawing his hand back. “It’s nice to meet you, Andreas.”

The shopkeep returned with his measuring tools before Andreas could respond, and fanned out a selection of lush fabrics. “Pardon the wait, my Lord. Please do follow me while you consider some of our options." He gave an apologetic bow to Andreas. "Pardon us, Lord Laurent.”

Rey struggled to keep the discomfort from his voice. Something about Andreas wasn’t…right. Every fiber of him told him so. “Goodbye then,” he said, with an ease he didn’t quite feel.

“Until we meet again,” Andreas told him, with an eerie smile. “May it be sooner rather than later."