“I’m glad we could reach a compromise,” Ophelia said with a gentle smile, while Orion did his best not to frown.

  He was fairly sure he had entered the conversation intending to talk her out of buying any clothes, especially expensive ones, but somehow, he ended up agreeing to visit at least one store.

  “Wonderful haggling, milord,” Lorena giggled, before returning to her scouting the moment he sent her a chilling glare.

  “Don’t take it too personally. I’ve been involved in high-stakes dealmaking since I was a kid. I’m sure if this had been a debate about the proper way to cast colored lights, you would have mopped the floor with me.” Ophelia said as she patted his arm, gleefully pulling him toward the first shop.

  Her golden glove tightened around his wrist so tightly that it was clear she was using magic to boost her strength, and breaking free from that hold would require too much effort, so Orion sighed and allowed himself to be pulled in.

  “Welcome to Madame Gorelle’s,” twin voices echoed, eerily similar in both tone and pitch.

  Orion looked around and saw two girls, likely only a few years older than him, staring at them with heterochromatic eyes—one brown and one blue—each in opposite positions. Both also had half their hair blonde and the other half black, making them quite striking.

  A light appeared in their eyes as they saw who else entered, and they quickly moved closer. “Lady Ames, what a pleasant surprise. We didn’t expect to see you,” they said again in unison, and Orion began to fear that this would be a constant.

  “Valise, Assilla, it’s so good to see you both,” Ophelia said, untangling herself from him and reaching over to briefly hug each of the girls, then placing a kiss on the air next to their cheeks.

  “I’m not here for myself today. No, I’ve come with a serious case, someone who has been dressing the same way for months and will soon be forced into high society,” she explained, earning a gasp from the twins, whose mismatched eyes turned to him in unison.

  “And it gets worse,” she continued, her voice lowering as if she couldn’t bear to speak the truth aloud. The twins huddled closer to her, taking her hands and offering comfort. “He intends to keep wearing the same clothes for the next two months, and then come back here and be announced, still in them!”

  The gasps this time were so loud that Orion could no longer ignore them. “Alright, enough!” he complained, but was summarily ignored.

  “This requires an intervention,” the first twin said, eyeing him critically.

  “You’ve done well, coming to us first. We might be able to provide the bare essentials for him to survive the coming months, and we will have something ready for a proper introduction by the time he comes back,” the other continued, determination burning in her gaze.

  Orion rolled his eyes so hard he was almost afraid they would fall out, but notably didn’t run away, and not only because Seothyn was guarding the only exit.

  “Alright, I get it. I need some new items to wear daily, as well as a couple of pieces for more formal occasions. There is no need to be that dramatic.”

  “Ah, but where is the fun in that?” Ophelia asked with a grin, and the twins nodded in sync. He was getting the impression that they were doing that on purpose, rather than it being a natural state for them, but he supposed it was a good way to be remembered by important customers. He was sure he would.

  “It’s also a pity to let such a pretty face go around in rags,” one of the two muttered, earning a surprised laugh from her sister and a chuckle from Ophelia.

  Orion sighed. It was easier just to surrender and let the enemy do what it wanted, in situations like these. “Go on, do your thing,” he said exasperatedly, and an unholy gleam appeared in their eyes.

  The next two hours were a whirlwind of flying fabric, colors in shades he was pretty sure didn’t exist in the visible spectrum, and lots of giggling. So much giggling.

  By the end, as he left the shop with a dazed look on his face and several silver coins lighter—the equivalent of one and a half gold coins, all for mere clothes—Orion was sure the sound would never leave him.

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  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Ophelia asked innocently, twirling her fingers.

  Orion gave her such a look of utter contempt that she genuinely stopped her act and looked worried for a moment, but he shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I’m a little overwhelmed, though, so I’d prefer we go straight to getting the ingredients I need before doing any more shopping.”

  She bit her lip, clearly aware she’d pushed it a little too far, but she nodded. “Alright, we should go to the Pentagram, then. It’s an alchemy shop that has very high-quality ingredients and usually requires an invitation to get in.”

  “Did you prepare for that in advance?” he asked, surprised, and she shrugged.

  “I knew I would eventually need to earn forgiveness, so I asked grandpa to get me a standing invitation, just in case.”

  Orion let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, let’s go then,” he said, feeling a bit more upbeat about the whole outing.

  It wasn’t like he couldn’t see the truth in her desire to help him expand his wardrobe. While his lab coat would stay for now, aside from a visit to the seamstress to upgrade it, the rest of his clothes were starting to get a bit too small.

  He had yet to truly experience a growth spurt, but the recent increase in Body had made him gain a couple of inches all over, and he suspected it had jump-started his metabolism and that things would change quite soon.

  That the new clothes were enchanted with size-adjustable spells and several layers of comfort runic scripts also made them more acceptable, even if he hoped it would be the last shopping trip for some time.

  I need to go back there to pick up the formalwear they sketched out for me. It will cost me two more gold coins since it will be enchanted, but hopefully it will be a quick process.

  Around them, the daily rush was in full swing, with people of all shapes, races, and sizes out and about. There was an undeniable atmosphere of relief throughout the city, and it wasn’t hard to identify its source, given that almost everyone seemed to be talking about the recent rise of Archmage Antares to the Speakership.

  Orion did his best to keep his head down, not wanting to be recognized for his similarities to the men, while the Basilisk Fang tightened their ring around them, preventing anyone from getting a clear look at his face.

  “Anything I should know about this Pentagram?” He asked, and Ophelia nodded.

  “Yeah, it’s the highest-end shop for alchemists belonging to the Crimson Wheel, and one of the few places that has maintained its quality even as standards have generally declined across the rest of their empire,” she explained. Orion was reminded that, despite her uniqueness, Ophelia was an actual expert in trade, especially given her recent lessons with her grandfather, whose responsibility it was to organize all large-scale events for the central government.

  That kind of work demanded intense coordination with a wide range of suppliers. No wonder he had secured an open invitation to the top alchemical shop in the city.

  The Pentagram, it turned out, was at the end of the market district, near where the government buildings started to come into view in the shadows of the Collegium’s towers.

  It was a large shop, occupying three times the space of most other boutiques nearby, yet it had less than a tenth of the foot traffic. Only occasionally did someone stop and stare at the glass showcase, but the moment they noticed the absence of prices and the extremely dense clusters of protective runes, they moved on, knowing it was beyond their budget.

  Orion took a moment to observe everything with [Hypotheticism], curious to know if a shop under the Crimson Wheel Consortium would use similar protective magics to what he’d seen around the city, and was surprised to discover that was not the case.

  As far as he knew, the merchants didn’t really have a single school of magic they followed; instead, they preferred to absorb smaller factions and adopt their traditions as their own, after thoroughly cleansing them of irrational beliefs.

  The defensive spells arranged around the Pentagram looked more like what he had seen Yue use than anything the Collegium created. In fact, he could spot several clusters that, although repeated, were still different enough from each other that he concluded this had to be the work of a single person, and a master of alchemy at that.

  Did they contract it out? Or maybe they just bought an already successful shop.

  Ophelia didn’t hesitate to head for the door, and Orion followed her, knowing by now that she knew exactly what she was doing.

  Before reaching the door, she pulled a pressed letter from her inner sleeves, triggering a hidden mechanism that unlocked it and swung the door open.

  Several people stopped in surprise at the unusual sight, but before they could get more than a vague impression of who they were, the Basilisk Fang hurried them into the shop, and the door closed behind them with a soft thump.

  Inside, they were greeted by a warm, nearly tropical atmosphere, though not hot enough to be uncomfortable. Pale wood and glass covered every surface, both shiny enough to clearly show they had been treated with some sort of concoction to prevent cross-reactions, which made Orion’s estimate of the owner’s skill increase.

  “Well then, who do we have here?” a low voice called, and Orion turned to the side to see a stooped old man step out of the shadows. He had keen eyes that quickly scanned over them, briefly resting on Seothyn with frightening intensity before settling on Orion with finality.

  “A customer?” someone else called from the back, and there were a few seconds of scrambling sounds until another figure appeared — a young man with fine features that loosely resembled the elder, albeit clearly more refined. The pointed tips at the ends of his ears indicated some elven ancestry, though he lacked the ethereal aura that most pureblooded elves possessed.

  “Do you want me to handle this, grandpa?” the lad asked softly, but the old man grunted something negative, clearly surprising him.

  “Good morning,” Orion greeted. “I have been told this is the best shop for alchemical reagents and rare materials.”

  “You’ve been told well, lad,” the old man grunted. “This is the Pentagram, the finest alchemy shop in all of Cyril, as it has been for the past century, and I am Toledo Vaar, its owner.”

  Orion had been around enough powerful people to recognize what it felt like when someone was vastly superior in strength. Those individuals carried an aura that could only be described as potential, which he couldn’t sense here. Still, something told him this old man, although perhaps not as powerful, was no less dangerous.

  Knowledge is a very sharp weapon. I know that better than anyone.

  “It is good to meet you, Mr. Vaar. I am Orion Voidwalker.”

  At that moment, a light flickered in the half-elf’s eyes as he clearly recognized the name and tried to subtly let it be known. However, the old man didn’t seem to care about his frantic whispering. Instead, he pursed his lips. “I don’t often get decent customers since the Consortium bought me out. All they send are privileged brats and incompetents with more money than sense. Are you one, too?”

  Orion grinned. He liked this guy.