Chapter 151: Six – Forewarned is Foreworn

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Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Six - Forewarned is Foreworn

Rosaline claimed to be the greatest expert in the matter of talonware in all of the Nesting Kingdom and beyond. A claim that Amaryllis seemed to grudgingly agree to. The elder sister was, according to Amaryllis, really fond of dragging people to stores to gawk at things.

We got back into our carriage and were soon riding along through a section of the city filled with shops and little boutiques. “This is the retail district,” Rosaline said as she leaned over Awen to stick her face in the carriage’s window. “It’s where you can buy the best stuff.”

I hadn’t been all that excited for the ball thing before today, but Rosaline’s enthusiasm about it was getting to me. Now I was kind of looking forward to it. “What’s a harpy ball like?” I asked as the carriage rolled off the main market street and onto a back road where there was plenty more room to park.

Parking something pulled by horses was a bit trickier than parking a modern car with a transmission that could reverse and wheels that could turn a whole lot.

“That depends on the kind of ball,” Rosaline said.

“There are sorts?” I asked.

Amaryllis huffed and opened the door next to her to jump out. “Of course there are sorts of balls. Each with slightly different etiquettes.”

“Some,” Rosaline added. “Are a lot more fun than others. It really depends on their purpose. The seasonal balls held every year tend to be a bit less formal. Especially the Winter Ball over the solstice. Some, like the Ball of the Golden Peak, which is led by the military, are very stiff and boring. But I have to attend anyway because we sell ships to them every year.”

“Okay,” I said. “And what about the one we’re going to?”

Rosaline waited until we were all gathered at the back of the carriage before she went on. “This one will be a bit boring. It’s a political ball. Lots of hobnobbing and talking and making sure others know you’re bigger and better than they are.”

“That does sound a bit boring,” I said.

Rosaline gestured down the street and looked both ways before she ran across the street with the rest of us in tow. “Yup!” she said as she landed on the sidewalk opposite. “Did you want more of an itinerary for it?”

“I guess that couldn’t hurt,” I said.

She nodded along. “Different sorts of parties have different ways of doing things, and there’s always some variation depending on the host. In this case though it’ll probably start with everyone being welcomed in, then gathering in the main hall. Someone will give a boring speech, usually the host. Then a guest of honour will give another boring speech. And then it’s more, but shorter, speeches by a bunch of people.”

“That’s a lot of speeches,” I said.

“It is,” Amaryllis agreed.

Awen nodded along. “That, ah, sounds a lot like some of the balls back home. But not the ones with Uncle. He... made sure there weren’t any speeches.”

“How’d he manage that?” Rosaline asked. “I don’t think anyone except for the Goose Prince could get people to skip the speeches.”

Awen shrugged a little. “He’s... important enough that people kind of need to let him speak if he wants to,” she said. The harpies nodded as if that made sense. “And when it’s his turn, he just tells one of his stories. One of the long ones.” Her face warmed a bit. “One of the very gr-graphic ones.”

Rosealin tapped her chin. “So he ruins the speech part by being so scandalous that they... what, just cancelled them when he’s around?”

Awen nodded. “That’s it, yes.”

“No,” Amaryllis cut in. “You are most certainly not allowed to try the same tactic. I swear I’ll tell Clem and she will find a way to get Gen-Gen to tan your hide if you do it.”

Rosaline cackled with mischievous glee. “Oh, I’d never,” she said. “But I’m sure I can convince someone to make a spectacle of themselves one of these days.”

I didn’t quite know how to feel about that. On the one hand, it was a little bit mean. On the other, it seemed like an innocent enough prank to play. “Ah, what about after the speeches?” I asked.

“After that?” Rosaline asked. “Then meals are served. Some balls have tables set up with heaps of appetizers. Some have live chefs that can cook fresh food for you while putting on a show. Some serve meals at prepared tables. Most mix it up a bit. I think the one coming up has arranged seating, so you can expect a five course meal and then a roving buffet with digestifs after.”

“That sounds really nice,” I said. Like going to one of those fancy restaurants I’d seen in the movies.

Rosaline hummed agreeably. “It can be. Having bad food at a ball you’re hosting is a huge social faux-pas.”

“I can imagine,” I said.

“So, after the meals are all eaten up--most of them are pretty light--there’s a bit more speech-making, but those tend to be less formal and you can eat while they talk. And then it’s mingling and dancing for a couple of hours until the desert is served.”

“So that’s the fun part,” I guessed.

Rosaline nodded. “It is! Once I managed to arrive so late that I got to skip all of the boring bits. It was wonderful. But then Clem-Clem gave me an earful.”

“You deserved it,” Amaryllis said.

Our talking had taken us long enough that we’d reached the main street with all the markets. Like Port Royal, the shops seemed to be more or less divided along utilitarian lines. Some groupings selling everyday items, others with a bunch of specialty shops all squeezed together.

I found it a bit strange that two competitors would want to be next to each other, but it did seem to encourage them to go big with their advertising.

There were panels all over with posters on them and big bright banners hanging above shop doors. Any place that sold food had a few samples out in front, steaming and warm so that their smells would fill the air, and the places that sold less edible things often had glass displays with all of their goods laid out on pedestals.

The people though, were what really made things feel alive.

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Harpies were everywhere. Some flapping their wings, others inspecting new goods and some gathered into little pockets of gossip where one or two loud birds cackled away while others listened.

There was a lot of raucous laughter in the air, and I felt myself grinning wide as a group of small harpies darted past, their feathers all fluffed up.

I saw some grenouilles and humans too, even the odd ostri person walking head and shoulders above the common harpy. It was all very cosmopolitan.

“It’s so loud here!” I cheered.

“You would like that,” Amaryllis said.

Rosaline snorted and poked her sister in the ribs. “Don't be that way. And Broccoli, you should see it when the buskers come out! Sometimes they’ll compete to see which one can outplay the other. It’s a hoot to watch. This way! Shoes await!”

Shoe shopping with people who don’t have feet was a new experience. Harpy foot talons were very bird-like, which I supposed was only appropriate. That meant that most of the footwear they did have were more akin to wraps and sandals than anything else. Some had elevated soles meant to be tied in place beneath the rearmost talon and others were made to squish their three big ‘toes’ together.

It all seemed a lot more complicated than buying shoes normally.

The selection available for me and Awen was a bit smaller, but the place Rosaline brought us had professionals with the Cobbler class and they were able to make anything to order on the spot.

In the end, I left with two pairs of shoes. One for everyday wear, and the other, a nice pair of black leather Mary Janes with a tiny heel at the back and a nice blue strap that matched my new blouse. Awen picked out a more adventurous heel that she apparently knew how to walk and dance in, and the harpy sisters both bickered and argued for a bit before buying half a dozen pairs of wraps and shoes, much to the evident content of the store’s owner.

“What’s next?” I asked as I swung my bag around.

“I’m thinking hats!” Rosaline said. She wasn’t wearing anything on her head, but a glance around showed that quite a few harpy women were wearing some sort of hat.

Now that I looked, it seemed as if it was only the young that went without something on their head. The richer someone’s clothes, the more elaborate and colourful the headwear, which made its own sort of sense.

“Is there a nice hat shop around here?” I asked.

“The best!” Rosaline claimed with unusual seriousness.

She led us along through the crowds until we reached a big store. The shop took up enough room for three others, with wide glass windows at the front split by statuesque columns, each one with rows of wooden heads with beautiful headpieces on them. From pointy wizard caps to pretty floral bonnets.

“Whoa,” I said as I took in the imposing sign above the entrance. The words ‘Hat Emporium’ stood tall and proud before a wooden backdrop.

“This is the place for hats and such,” Roasaline said.

We were announced by the jingle of a bell above the door, loud chimes calling out across the open floor of the hat shop, telling the world that we had arrived. Not that the people within paid us all that much attention. There were nice hats to look at and try on, after all.

“So many,” I said as I took in all the pretty hats.

Skipping over to a display of bowler hats, I picked one off the rack and tried to try it on.

Unfortunately, I ran into a pair of big problems; big bunny-eared shaped problems.

I heard Amaryllis snort from behind me a moment before she carefully removed the bowler hat from my hands and placed it atop her own head. “I think we’re going to need to ask someone that works here for some assistance,” she said.

“Do you think they make hats for buns here?” I asked.

“Certainly. Let’s leave my sister and Awen to tease each other and find some help, shall we?”

A glance over my shoulder showed a grinning Rosaline placing a bonnet atop Awen’s head. The little flowers on it matched her blonde hair and rosy cheeks.

Amaryllis pulled me along to the front of the store where a young harpy girl was standing behind a counter with the happy smile all retail workers wore when before a client. “Hello. May I assist you?” she asked while glancing up at my head. “Are you looking for the exotic heads section?”

“Exotic heads?” I asked.

She nodded, then gestured towards a far corner. “For our clients with... unique cranial features. You can also have any normal headwear modified for a small custom tailoring fee.”

“That sounds nice,” I said. “We’ll go check that out!”

Of all the things I expected from growing a pair of cute bunny ears atop my head, having to pay a premium for a nice hat to compliment them was not one of them. The hats in the corner for exotic heads were a bit older looking, some of them clearly made for heads that were much bigger or shaped way different than what I’d come to expect.

Amaryllis found a pair of bonnets that had holes in them for bun ears, but they were too small to fit my head.

I sighed. “This is annoying,” I said as I pulled a straw hat from off a nearby mannequin. “I guess I’ll just need to buy a normal hat and pay for someone to tailor a pair of holes into it. Saying so, I poked my fingers where I expected the holes would need to be.

I didn’t expect my fingers to break through the straw.

“...Oops.”

Ding! For repeating a Special Action a sufficient number of times you have unlocked the class skill: Mad Millinery!

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