The sign outside was modest, stating the name in plain letters with only the smallest of decorations, yet the window said it all: outrageously coloured feathers were combined with the simplest of cloth into a stunning contraption, the finest of furs draped over designs that had best be named ‘inventive’.
The eye catcher undoubtedly was a regal, flowing red gown that seemed to have been made purely from rose petals, with gentle, scattered drops of gleaming beads and sequins as if they were the early morning dew buds.
It seemed an unlikely place to select an outfit that would allow him to remain hidden from those who he’d got on the wrong side of that Morningtide, and yet he didn’t want to linger in a busy street for much the same reason, and so hastened into the shop.
The entrance room of the small store in Kings Court was packed with the strangest of materials, amongst which a human sized fox-skin. Upon further examination it turns out to be made out of a cunning combination of fabrics, creating an illusion of swiftness in an outfit that strangely enough might not be out of place at an important dinner or great ball.
Jacob glanced at the amazing outfit. It struck him that it would be ironic to dress as a fox in order to evade those he supposed would be hunting him.
A sign on the counter stated: “Nobody be seen or a costume be fitted.â€
Right underneath it said: “Now dressing both Citadel and King’s Court!†in a lovely flourishing handwriting.
Jacob barely noticed the sign as he looked around the shop for someone. He wasn’t quite sure what to say when he found someone. He quickly realised he’d have to think of something when he noticed movement amongst the clothing and materials deeper into the shop.
In the back of the room a young man on his early twenties was standing in front of an undressed wooden dummy. He was absentmindedly scratching at his short dark hair, his distant brown eyes concentrating on the mannequin. Lifting his right hand, he started biting on his nails as he slowly walked around the wooden dummy, trying to grasp something which he could only see. With a small frown, he took the gossamer fabric hanging around his neck and artfully flung it upon the air, intently watching it slowly descend, feather-like, upon the wooden dummy.
Arching an eyebrow, he smiled boyishly.
Jacob coughed into his hand, then once he was sure he had the attention of the young man, who he guessed to be a little older than him. “Excuse me, sir? Does Lady Debrona have some sort of account here? I’ve been asked to report here to get myself something a little less… scruffy…â€