Zai wasn’t lying at all, this wasn’t really a dress code.

  A single article of clothing was brought out from Mori’s room and forced onto Sophia. And whatever this was that she wore under these Tiancin robes hugged her like a husband-beater tank top — thin but hidden in plain sight.

  Ice cold on her skin, almost hostile yet comforting: that sheer black yet slightly transparent fabric holding some alien, almost terrifying feeling as it presses with her skin like the edge of a million tiny blades.

  It was the same type worn by that guardian of her husband’s, and as Mori helped dress this Fourth Princess in this nearly intangible carapace that Guardsman laid claim after claim that this material was perhaps the greatest secret kept by the Dominion to the world. Something that was given to them by the gods themselves, taught to the tiancin people alone.

  Sophia doubted that fairy tale, and even now as these two disguised royals and their two guards approach this literal mansion in the northern half of Port Azuru the whole idea weighed on her mind.

  Or perhaps it was just the discomfort from the vest.

  It’s the discomfort from the vest.

  This place was significantly larger than even the Tianci summer residence, an opulence almost comically absurd to this foreigner. Like some micro-palace built in the northern dominion style, this residence was beyond anything like Sophia could begin to conjure in her mental imagery of architecture.

  Curving roofs plated with glazed ceramic and held together by oblong walls of redwood, surrounded by a garden of camellias that was manicured to an absurdist precision. Huge granite boulders uncomfortably splitting the courtyard, with the paths paved in gravel carving through bare, lifeless dirt.

  A single constable guard, wearing simple and civilian Tiancin blueish robes with a gold badge at his hip, sits lazily in that small shaded guard post at the front of the property. Barely paying attention, only looking up as the motor carriage pulls up across the street from the entrance.

  “Remember, don’t eat or drink anything offered. No matter what they say about manners, don’t even smell them.” Zai’s voice holds a dangerous seriousness. “Always be next to Elodie. If she’s even half-trained she should be able to spot subtle cues and run interference. And if I tap the table four times, we leave. Immediately. No questions, no slow sips, no lingering eye contact. You do the same if you catch something first.”

  His tone is steady but even Sophia detects a riptide to it, like a body being drawn out into the vast abyss of the sea beyond. “If there’s a firefight you need to get low and stay low. Mori and Elodie can handle it… and don’t run unless they tell you too.”

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  He’s still stuck on this, continuing to speak faster. “If the lights flicker or you smell citrus, that could mean a gas release. If that mayor or any of his guards hold their breaths or even change how they breathe you need to cover your mouth, hold your breath, and move to an exterior wall or a window. If all of us are unconscious or out, you need to break a window. Use a utensil, a heavy metal object or… ”

  He’s still not done. “If there’s music playing from a record, or even a small auditory cue like someone dropping a glass, that’s a signal for something. If that happens you need to be ready to dive for cover or run towards Elodie. If the Mayor or anyone uses your full, real name, it’s a hard compromise. Stay as close as possible to me because… ”

  Sophia’s internal monologue rolls its eyes. Goddess this boy is panicking. Let’s calm him down.

  The Fourth Princess interrupts him with a nervous, yet very cold summary of her position. “Zai, you’re being quite dramatic.”

  Those words drag him back to shore, that casual almost dismissive response breaking him slightly. “I know it sounds excessive,” he says, more to himself than to her, “but if even one of these things happens, it stops being a meeting. It becomes survival.”

  “Well, it won’t come down to that.” Sophia speaks, and a part of her hopes as well.

  Zai Tianci stares at this Ensolian girl, this woman that he himself was tied to now with the ring upon his left finger. He makes the tactical decision, voice quiet. “Me too.”

  The audible snap of a round being cocked into a handgun crashes this conversation, returning these two royals to the world.

  Guardsman Mori Fushimi narrows her eyes at the Priestess Elodie, who had kept her usual loose fitting religious garb despite the risks of this encounter. A woman of the cloth plucked from rural towns of the eastern coastlines of the Ensolian Imperium, but with a usual staff and holy symbol replaced by the imperial firearm in her rough hands.

  “Been a loooong time since I’ve used one of these.” Elodie half opens the chamber, feeling the weight of the thing in her hands. She taps the ceramic armor plating of the Impericutta legionary, the sound ringing like a fork on a dessert plate. “You keep good care of your weapons, Red-99.”

  “I attempt to do so.” It responds from the passenger seat. “Do you require more munitions?”

  “Nah, any problem out here requiring more than a mag means we’re screwed anyway.”

  The Guardswoman sighs, interrupting with a hint of jealousy. “You even up for using that weapon, Elodie?”

  It’s a targeted insult for sure, and Sophia gulps as that Silver Hand Agent takes a few seconds to come up with a rebuttal.

  “Well it’s certainly been a while since I was truly running around with one of these, but using this is something you don’t forget.” She scoffs. “You ready?”

  “Ready.” The Guardsman growls, pushing open the door with a hard thud.

  And before they both really step out they both turn back to Sophia and Zai, at their two charges for the day. As one they say the words, the pair of royals bombarded by the order. “Stay close, you two.”

  Hopefully...