CHAPTER 77 Take Off Your Clothes

CHAPTER 77

Take Off Your Clothes

Rufus

“Alright,” Linden slapped his knee the second his wife and daughter were clear of the house. “Let’s get you ready for the dinner party. Is that all you have to wear?”

That … wasn’t what I was expecting. The fierce stare and gruff demeanor made me ready to catch a fist at any second, not suddenly prepare for a change of wardrobe.

“I have formal attire in my storage?”

“Bring it out,” Linden ordered. He took a swig of his wine and placed it to the side, then reached forward and moved my own drink to make space. “Let’s see what you have.”

While strange, I accepted this sudden turn of events with my usual outwardly laid-back self. Inside, I was confused and concerned …

“These are the clothes I was going to wear to meet Guild Master Derek tomorrow,” I said, laying out a dark-blue silk tunic with golden thread running in swirls along the cuffs, neckline, and buttonholes. I brought out matching britches with a tie at the calf so the pants fit snug, also with golden embroidering at the ankle and the sides. I had a golden brooch in the shape of a shield with a green tree and four drops of green blood, one in each corner, that I would wear as a symbol of the Dark Enchanted Forest army, and I’d planned to sweep my hair back into a low ponytail.

“This is perfect for your meeting, but not good enough for dinner,” Linden stated, matter-of-factly. He eyed me intently, his gaze trailing from the crown of my head to my toes. Finally, the half giant stood up and marched toward the back of the house. “Come with me.”

I obliged .

The house was a combination of wood and paper walls, with long hallways and sliding doors. After a few turns, Bronwynn’s father led me into a storage room. There were some boxes, a wardrobe, a few chests, and a ceiling-high shelf covered with enchanted knickknacks.

Linden threw open the wardrobe and rummaged inside. He and I weren’t of a height, since the half giant was even taller than his daughter, but presumably he had been my height at one point in time in his life. He pulled out a black silk robe with block-printed red blossoms. The flowers weren’t too pronounced, and they reminded me of the color of Brownie’s hair.

“Let me show you how to wear this, and then you can help me into my own,” the half giant said, seeing that I was appreciating the high-quality clothing.

“What do I do?” I knew that King Keith had servants to help him dress when he saw fit, but I’d rarely made use of the privilege.

“Simple,” he said. “Take off your clothes.”

The banquet hall was in the main building, and Linden led me there while we talked. We’d spent a surprisingly long time getting to this point.

The process to put on the outfit he’d picked out for me was somewhat arduous, but it certainly looked regal—and more importantly, it felt comfortable to wear. And his decision to finish the bottle of wine before changing into his own clothes might have prolonged the task.

“… and any Sumbrian who thinks that we would let that happen is a fool.” Linden was telling me about the ambassador of the elven nation who put forth a proposal to the house of servants, what Peldeep called their governing body, ordering a ten percent reduction in port taxes for five years as a part of the marriage agreement between Knight Commander Bastian and Countess Peregrine Fern. The couple were set to be wed this week at the end of the Apple Blossom Festival, and Sumbria was in full form with their usual diplomatic arrogance.

This was why the Dark Enchanted Forest did not host resident ambassadors like most of the other kingdoms … Her Eminence Feliwyn would have just eaten them if they proved too much of a bother, and Keith was too distracted with golemancy to bother.

My friend was a lot like the dragon who raised him, even if he denied it.

“I’m still surprised they place so little weight into the prophecies,” I said, walking up a half flight of stairs.

Linden shook his head. “Fools, the lot of them. Though Benji, that’s my brother’s husband, was telling us Peregrine isn’t so bad. Her father has always been a reasonable elf to bargain with. He’s also an exceptional talent; nobody’s managed to assassinate anyone in his family yet, and not for lack of trying!” The half giant laughed heartily. “Count Valin just sends our assassins back with a polite note every time. He’s a good sort. ”

I recalled the number of times we’d had to send assassins back to Peldeep or Servalt, and the troubles figuring out which one belonged to which organization. I said as much. “How can he tell if they’re yours? The assassins, I mean. They’re usually tight-lipped about where they come from.”

“Is that why King Keith is always sending us Servalt’s operatives?” Linden shook his head. “Did Derek not let him know that you can tell by their blades? Peldeep uses pettle steel pommels. It’s subtle, but it lets everyone know who’s whom without anyone having to break their professional confidentiality oath.”

“I’ll be honest with you, no. I don’t think anyone knew that. Now that we are on the topic, I have to ask; of the twenty-odd assassins we sent back from the Drendil Bridge Battle,” I asked, “how many were yours?”

“Eight.”

Linden stopped outside a set of sliding doors and squared his shoulders. I followed suit, settling comfortably into a confident and poised position.

My stomach flipped twice when he opened the thin paper door and let us into the dining hall.

First, because I was not ready to see an entire room of Bronwynn’s roguish relatives who might not rival me in level but were mostly giants and in all honesty intimidating by the sheer fact that they were Bronwynn’s relatives .

And second, because she sat in a red dress with black accents that complimented my own so perfectly. Bronwynn was smiling at something her mother said, the light catching the fire in her hair and the joy in her eyes.

There was that moment at the table, when her father had asked me if I loved her … the answer had come so readily.

Suddenly, standing in a room full of assassins didn’t seem that bad.

I was ready.

Until my prospective father-in-law reached out and slapped my back with enough force to topple a tree. My Constitution barely let me keep still, and I took twenty points of physical damage from the attack.

“Alright, all,” the half giant’s voice pitched over the room. “Let me introduce you to Commander General Rufus Triever of Nilheim.”

There was a dramatic pause as all eyes bore into me with a mix of curiosity, reservation, or indifference. Until Linden added, “He’s come to court my daughter, Bronwynn.”

That was when the room exploded into a ruckus.