Sandro had left early, which was a mercy, for she didn't want him to be seen coming out of her apartment. Not that people here would judge her, but being born and raised in Estallium where appearances mattered, old habits died hard. After helping herself to a fresh chunk of bread and some cheese from the private dining room down the hall, mercifully empty at this hour, Elena returned to her apartment to find the tailor setting up for a fitting. She had almost forgotten about the new uniform Liran had ordered for her.
In fact, there were two. They lay over the chairs in her sitting area, both a deep navy colour with buttons, braids and other trim done in silver. One outfit was more ornate than the other, clearly intended for formal occasions. The workmanship was beautiful. The jackets were lined and reinforced under the arms. When she looked closer, she noticed that the more ornate one was also made of a patterned fabric; blue on blue. She smiled at the subtleness of the work. The tailor stood by, waiting.
"If you care to try them on, Captain, I can make adjustments within the hour. You will be able to wear them today." The iron grey-haired Trillas woman bowed, and collected up the simpler of the two garments for Elena to try on.
The jacket was lighter than she expected. The fabric was wool, woven in durable twill, but the weight of it was remarkably slight.
"It's very fine," Elena commented as she removed the old Paracha grey jacket she normally wore and slipped on the new one. The inside was as soft as feathers, and was lined with a silky fabric which was probably cotton because it wasn't chilly to the touch.
She buttoned up it up all the way. Elena looked into a full-length mirror the woman had brought and was pleased at the trim fit which made her seem a little taller. That never hurt her authority. Elena stood still while the tailor smoothed out the fabric and checked over her work.
"I must make more room in the upper arm area, but otherwise it fits well enough." The woman's face didn't reveal any of her feelings. She fetched the second jacket from the chair and handed it to Elena.
After handing back the first jacket, Elena tried on the second. It was made of an even finer cloth, this one in damask brocade instead of the simpler, more functional twill. She caressed the front panel to make it lay flat. The garment appeared to keep its press well.
"Where did you get this fabric?"
"The Hilliri make such things here in Castillon. They have developed special looms for weaving intricate patterns."
"They have a taste for subtle beauty."
The woman turned up her mouth in a slight smile.
"Indeed, they do."
She slipped off the finer jacket and handed it back to the woman. There was a knock on the door. Elena opened it to find Liran, dressed for the day, but not looking as fresh as usual. She remembered the awkward moment at her door last night. Her cheeks flared with sudden heat. The Prince pulled himself upright.
"I see the jackets I ordered have arrived. Is everything fitting well?"
"Yes, they are very fine. Thank you very much."
He glanced at the tailor.
"Can I have a few minutes with the Captain?"
The woman curtsied and gathered up the jackets.
"I will return with these in an hour."
Once the door closed, Liran returned his gaze to Elena. He glanced shyly downward for a moment, breathing in.
"I'm sorry I disturbed you last night. It occurred to me afterward that you might like a different set of rooms...somewhere where you won't have me so close by. I don't intend to observe you, but being right here presents certain difficulties."
She didn't know why last night was so awkward. It shouldn't have been. As if he heard her thoughts, the Prince looked understanding.
"I should explain. I am related to Sandro."
Elena pulled back in surprise.
"Really? I had no idea."
Liran looked far off for a moment before shifting his gaze to her.
"I once had a half sister. The result of a liaison between my father a woman in Madrezza, long before he met my mother. He was quite fond of the Castillonian tradition of 'Sunset Hour.'"
Elena raised an eyebrow.
"The...tradition you learned about last night."
His hesitation said volumes.
"I don't disapprove of the practice, but I was raised more in the Hilliri ways."
Elena nodded, understanding.
"Sandro is my nephew, four generations removed. That's why it was awkward."
Elena blinked in surprise.
"I had no idea."
"I came for business reasons, though."
He straightened up and stood his full height. Elena noted had a tendency to slouch.
"I thought it was time that you should have a new rank. Captain is no longer suitable for the work you are doing and the level of leadership and responsibility associated with it. I chose to use the title 'Commander' for now, as they do in Kalad, but once you've figured out the whole ranking system, we can discuss what we shall call you in the new order of things. This will be the next step above being 'Captain', if I'm correct?"
For a moment, Elena didn't know what to say. She was used to being overlooked. It was one of the hazards of working in a man's profession. Many years had passed back in Estallium since her superiors had acknowledged her efforts in such a manner.
"Commander comes after Captain, yes. I will endeavour to merit your confidence, my Lord." She bowed her head.
"Also, I think your next visit should be to Perramo, but I want you to bring Joran with you."
"I'm not sure that's necessary, and Joran is very busy."
Elena hated feeling dependant on others to get things done.
"I think it is." The Prince continued to talk as he walked toward the window and looked out. He turned back toward her and went on. "I'm hearing that the leaders of the towns aren't being adequately cooperative. I hope the higher rank will help. I can't change old-fashioned attitudes, but I can send Joran to ensure they listen to you. The Hilliri, especially, might simply give you a hard time for appearing to be Trillas. I want you to know that it's in their nature. It's not a reflection on your effectiveness."
In spite of his words, she couldn't help but feel that she had failed in some way.
"Very well, my Lord."
Liran walked back toward the door to leave. He turned as he stood in the open doorway and looked back at Elena.
"It should only require one accompanied visit. After that they should listen, but you must let me know if anyone still gives you trouble."
"Yes, my Lord."
Liran sighed and softened. He continued in a more gentle tone.
"You promised to call me Liran, Elena. And you mustn't expect old men to change their stubborn attitudes overnight, especially those of the Hilliri. They've had millennia to become entrenched in their point of view. They're not used to the Trillas taking the lead in such matters, especially a woman, but I know you can win them over in time, as you have convinced me."
Elena was used to men underestimating her. She was also used to surprising them. It amused her. She would enjoy doing it again. Elena tilted her head.
"I'm happy to stay here, if it doesn't feel too awkward for you." Elena preferred to be above board and honest about her life with all she dealt with. She wouldn't slink around pretending, not even for her liege lord, no matter how prudish he might seem.
Liran seemed relieved. Perhaps he liked having her company enough to accept any awkwardness.
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Rebecca