Cataphractoi

  In Miliam’s experience, a tailor’s shop looked a lot like any clothing store on the surface. There would be clothing on dispy, whether as a means of showing the tailor’s portfolio or to advertise those designs for sale, oftentimes along with fabrics a customer could choose from for a custom outfit. She hadn’t been in many- fewer than she could count on one hand, in fact- so her sample size wasn’t rge enough to have expectations for the shop of Abigail’s friend. At the same time, she hadn’t actually spent a lot of time exploring the Gaian Collective, so she’d yet to acclimate to magical society in general.

  All of which left her in a strange state of feeling like expectations she hadn’t possessed had been subverted when she stepped into Asbolus’s store to find the most overtly magical dispy she’d seen yet. The yout was designed to draw attention to the outfits on dispy, with Miliam’s eyes almost seeming to slide off of the room itself and towards the clothing. That might have been a magical effect or it might simply have been effective decorating.

  First Miliam caught sight of a dress that sparkled with starlight not from sequins but from the very thread itself, upon which a night sky seemed to flow. Another didn’t so much give the illusion of rustling leaves as it did seem to be made of actual leaves, but when Miliam brushed a hand across it she felt only smooth fabric. One suit-and-pants combo was swept up in a localized breeze that highlight the sparks trailing off of it, and a closer look revealed fmes that peaked out from between the threads when they shifted.

  There were scarves that seemed to fade out of existence at the ends, eyepatches that were translucent from one side, boots with wings that moved as if under their own will- even something as simple as gloves that would always produce the perfect sound if the wearer snapped their fingers. Gaudier outfits had elements that floated independently, from tiny pnets to flowers. After a short time where she felt as if she were being watched, Miliam noticed there was a hat with eyes of its own trained upon her.

  Only once Miliam had finished taking in the more spectacur dispy items did she notice a section for mundane clothing of exceptional quality. There were no enchantments on them, or at least none with a visible effect. Instead they were crafted so well and from such fine materials that Miliam didn’t doubt the sign promising they would literally st the buyer a lifetime.

  If she remembered correctly, the price tag was a match for Engineer’s yearly sary.

  “Please tell me there are cheaper options,” Miliam whispered to Abigail, afraid to draw attention to herself in her fabricator-made clothes in a high-css pce like this.

  “Ah, pay no attention to the prices of clothing on dispy. These are Asbolus’s best work; masterpieces that take weeks or months to create. We will not be buying anything made by him personally; even the articles made by his apprentices are more than acceptable in polite society,” Abigail assured Miliam, patting her hand comfortingly. That calmed Miliam’s racing heart somewhat; anything as expensive as the dispy clothing would likely have been relegated to her closet as a family heirloom too precious to ever actually wear.

  “Is that Abigail I hear?” asked a booming voice from deeper inside the store. For the first time Miliam realized how ludicrously high the ceiling was in there when a centaur clip-clopped out of a door that had been nearly invisible until it was opened. Despite the door being more than twice Miliam’s height, Asbolus could barely fit through it. Miliam’s rural upbringing had her comparing the man to a Shire horse, so enormous was his horse half, and far from being a mismatch, his human torso was built like a brick house, straining through his impeccable clothing- merely a well-made shirt above, though a beautiful quilt of a caparison covered the rest of him.

  “How does he fit in the other parts of the station…?” Miliam wondered aloud before spping her hands over her mouth. Asbolus guffawed loudly in response while Abigail gave Miliam a wry smile.

  “Poorly,” she said simply.

  “A universal consequence of my stature, unfortunately. Even on Pelion my head scrapes the ceilings,” mented the gargantuan centaur, his long beard and equally lengths locks swaying as he shrugged. “But, Abigail! I haven’t seen you at the bar in over a month. Surely you haven’t suddenly taken up abstinence?”

  The question caught Miliam off-guard; she knew Abigail had had a drink or two aboard the Astrum Vitae, but it was hard for her to imagine the erudite and fastidious woman being so fond of alcohol as to be a regur at a bar, much less to go so far out of her way as to visit one in orbit with enough frequency for her absence to be noticed.

  “And leave you with the company of none but your cup? None could possibly be so cruel, much less I. Rather, I have been away amongst the stars aboard the ship of this lovely woman accompanying me today, which I enlisted the services of to ferry me to a system weeks from here,” Abigail expined with feigned offence, Asbolus merely chuckling at the barbed reply.

  “And would this young dy happen to have a name?” Asbolus asked inquired gently, looking to Miliam. Thanks in rge part to his enormous size, Miliam found herself intimidated after having gained his attention and struggled to speak.

  “M-m-m-miliam,” she squeezed out nervously, knowing she could be reduced to paste if the giant centaur merely failed to spot her before turning.

  “There’s an old joke I could employ here, but I suspect Abigail would have my hide if I were that crass,” Asbolus quipped, side-eyeing the woman in question with a smirk. “Well met, Miliam. Sadly I am already occupied with a commission, so you will have to settle for the aide of one of my apprentices.”

  “Let us dispense with the pretense I could ever afford a garment made by your hand,” Abigail said with a bit of self-deprecation. “Nonetheless, I am grateful for the favor, my friend.”

  “Ah, well, it’s hardly like it’s my time I’m giving you,” Asbolus replied as he reached up to pop the joints in his neck, hiding his bashfulness at the direct show of gratitude. “Giles will be your tailor today. Since his client cancelled he needs another job to practice his skills on anyway.”

  “Giles…I believe I recall him. That would be the scraggly one that refuses to admit he cannot grow a beard like yours?” Abigail asked, nodding to herself. “Very well; if you’re busy, I shall take no more of your time. I know the way from here.”

  “That’d be him alright. Just don’t let him hear you use that word or your friend might find her colr a couple millimeters too tight. Dreadfully uncomfortable,” Asbolus said while pulling at his own shirt distastefully, like he was speaking from experience. Then he raised his hand to sp Abigail on the shoulder but appeared to think better of it, which was probably for the best given that a friendly gesture like that probably would have snapped the tiny woman in half.

  After saying her goodbyes to Asbolus, Abigail took Miliam in a different direction than the door the centaur had emerged from, towards a hallway that was tucked away so as to be difficult to spot from the front door. There were rooms on both sides with pcards outside them bearing the names of their occupants, making it a simple task to locate Giles’s room. Below the name pte was a buzzer that Abigail pressed to notify the apprentice within of their arrival. The door slid open a moment ter, revealing a neatly-ordered workshop with some items Miliam found recognizable and others she didn’t.

  “Come on in!” called a voice from within, not visible from the doorway. Abigail and Miliam entered to find a nky young human man sitting at a table with a sewing machine built into it. Just as Abigail had said, Giles had an uneven and sparse approximation of a beard on his face, making him look like a college- or high school-aged boy trying to appear mature.

  “Good afternoon, Giles,” Abigail greeted as she entered.

  “It was a good afternoon, until you took my nap away,” the apprentice tailor replied grumpily.

  “Oh, come now. Asbolus would have found a means of occupying your time even without my presence,” Abigail refuted, getting a grudging hum of agreement from Giles.

  “True, true. So, which one of you needs formal wear?” Giles asked, setting aside his resentment by shifting it to his teacher.

  “That’s me,” Miliam volunteered, finding herself far less nervous than she would normally be when speaking to a stranger when comparing Giles to the massive Asbolus.

  “Hmm…” Giles intoned as he looked Miliam over from head to toe. The critical yet professional gaze felt a lot less discomforting than Miliam would have expected. He stood and strolled over to a rack of completed clothing, flipping between a few dresses before removing a vibrant red dress with tasteful silver cing and holding it up. “Yes…this should compliment your eyes and hair well. Judging by your current attire I suspect you’d prefer something on the more modest side like this, too.”

  Obviously the dress Giles was holding up, checking to see how it would look on Miliam, looked nothing like the examples she’d seen on the way in. It cked all magical accoutrements, which were likely beyond an apprentice’s skill level, though if Miliam were asked to compare it to Asbolus’s own mundane clothing she probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. To her eyes it was stunning, however, and she was already a bit giddy imagining herself wearing it.

  “So? How do you like it?” Giles asked. Miliam realized she’d been silent for a few moments too long, caught up in the moment. She nodded rapidly.

  “I like it! I…really like it,” she answered softly. Although he was merely an apprentice, Giles certainly seemed to have an eye for his clientele. Miliam couldn’t cim to know much about fashion, especially now, but Giles had done a good job identifying something she would like if nothing else.

  “That simplifies things. Let’s get your measurements taken and then I’ll get to work adjusting this to fit you. Stick around; it won’t take me too long,” Giles said while setting the dress down on his sewing table and retrieving his grimoire. Having experienced a measurement spell during her first trip to West Gate Station, Miliam was quick to realize he meant to use magic instead of measuring tape. Mostly she was just gd her clothes could stay on.

  “Your talents have developed greatly since you tailored my robes,” Abigail complimented as Giles went about his work, already casting a spell. “How long did it take you merely to configure that spell at the time?”

  “He made your robes?” Miliam asked, gncing at the attire in question. The bck cloth embossed with gold runes were quite nice, and Miliam knew they had an enchantment allowing the color of the runes to be changed at the very least.

  “I sewed them,” Giles crified, heading back to his table and jotting down some numbers. “The enchantments weren’t my work…although I don’t believe they were Master Asbolus’s either.”

  “Indeed. That aspect was handled by me personally; I was in the midst of my thesis at the time and it served as my proof-of-concept,” Abigail reminisced.

  “I thought you were some kind of archaeologist,” Miliam remarked, unsure where enchanting came into things.

  “Indeed. My robes are enchanted using a system long since abandoned, using techniques I researched and applied using a more modern understanding of physics,” Abigail expined.

  “As interesting as this conversation is, I’ll need silence to work. Please take it outside or keep your voices down,” Giles requested as he began to work on the dress he’d selected for Miliam. Abigail smiled a bit and nodded; together, she and Miliam headed outside to wait.

  Cataphractoi