The hooves of the Velebrandt steed clopped softly against the cobblestone road, its rhythm blending with the hum of city life. Lucien sat upright now, his eyes wide as saucers while they slowly made their way through the bustling street. All around him, colors danced in his vision—banners fluttered from rooftops, embroidered signs hung proudly above shops, and the lively chatter of merchants and townsfolk filled the air with a melody unique to the Velebrandt estate.
Then, amidst the cacophony of his wonder, Lucien suddenly blinked.
"A… an airship?" he murmured to himself.
His gaze instinctively lifted upward.
There—high above the rooftops, nearly kissing the clouds—floated a massive blimp-shaped airship. It hovered gracefully like a whale in the sky, its sleek, reinforced frame supported by several rotating propellers at each side, their blades shimmering in the golden sunlight. The ship's hull bore the Velebrandt crest, shimmering with silver and crimson against the blue sky, and several smaller banners streamed from its body, fluttering with purpose.
Lucien's breath caught in his throat.
"So this world has reached that level of advancement…?"
He had imagined a world of knights and castles, swords and spells—but this? This was teetering on the edge of magitech, of something that danced between fantasy and steampunk wonder. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. For a brief moment, it almost felt like home. Almost.
Knight Rex, noticing his young charge's awestruck stare, simply smiled.
"You'll get used to it," he said, voice deep and amused.
They turned into a quieter street lined with polished storefronts and fine decor—reserved for those of noble lineage or overwhelming wealth. After a few more steps, they arrived before a grand establishment. Its doors were tall, made of fine wood polished to a gleaming sheen, and the windows revealed glimpses of tailored suits, dresses spun with threads of silver, and mannequins adorned with cloaks infused with runes. Embossed in gold above the entrance were the words:
"Velour & Crest: House of Nobility Garments"
Two well-armored knights stood tall on either side of the door, their postures rigid but respectful. Upon seeing the sigil stitched onto Knight Rex's shoulder, they saluted instantly.
Lucien's awe hadn't subsided. From magical airships to silken fashion houses… his new world only continued to surprise him.
Knight Rex pulled the reins gently and brought the horse to a halt. He swung down with practiced ease and walked over to Lucien, reaching up to help him dismount.
"Go on inside," Rex said, lifting the young master gently. "I'll secure the horse nearby."
Lucien, still wearing an eager smile, gave a small nod. "Okay!"
Rex gave a low chuckle, glancing once at the store.
"No need to worry. This shop is under the Velebrandt name—one of many. The guards here are top-notch, trained by your family's very own knight corps. Anyone foolish enough to try something here won't even reach the entrance."
With that, Rex led the horse away down a quieter path. The clacking of hooves slowly faded.
Lucien turned back toward the grand store, heart pounding once more—this time with excitement.
He took a breath and stepped forward. The guards, recognizing the young master's noble bearing and silken attire, opened the doors for him with synchronized grace.
And so, Lucien stepped into a new world once again—one made of velvet halls, magical threads, and hidden glamours.
________________________________________
As the heavy doors gently closed behind him, a soft chime rang out, and Lucien found himself surrounded by elegance he hadn't expected—even in a world as opulent as this.
The inside of Velour & Crest was nothing short of a textile paradise. Polished marble floors glistened under warm golden chandeliers, their glasswork carved with intricate arcane patterns that softly pulsed with light. Ornate columns with vine-like engravings stretched toward the tall ceilings, and subtle runes were inscribed across the crown moldings—most likely enchantments to regulate temperature and lighting.
Lucien's first breath inside was noticeably cool. His brows lifted slightly.
"Air conditioning? This world really is something…" he mused silently.
A gentle hum of nobility filled the store: the rustle of expensive fabrics, the refined footsteps of servants shuffling behind their masters, and the melodic voices of the sales clerks expertly offering advice. He passed by a long mirrored wall where a noblewoman, clad in a dress laced with gold trim, twirled slowly with her handmaids applauding with practiced cheer.
"Ahh, milady, you look simply divine in this cut! It flatters your silhouette magnificently."
"Oh, do you think so? I wasn't sure about the crimson, but…"
"It brings out your eyes, absolutely! Shall we bring the matching gloves?"
Near a row of tunics, a portly nobleman stood with his hands on his hips, scrutinizing himself in a mirror while a half-bored servant fanned him gently.
"Doesn't this tunic make me look younger?" the noble asked, flexing his chin slightly.
"Yes, yes, my lord," the servant nodded emphatically, though his voice lacked conviction. "Positively radiant. The blue really hides your… uhm… heroic frame."
Another salesman nearby gave a polite cough, then whispered to a colleague, "We're out of flattery today. Shall we restock from the archives?"
Lucien nearly chuckled aloud. The level of pretension mixed with the seamless professionalism made for an amusing contrast. Despite how foreign it all felt, it was entertaining in its own right.
While he was still drinking in the ornate displays—rows of waistcoats embroidered with silver thread, jackets bearing noble family insignias, cloaks dyed in deep jewel tones—a well-dressed man approached him.
"Ah, welcome, esteemed sir," the salesman greeted with a bow so deep, it bordered on reverent. His perfectly gelled hair and crystal monocle only added to the theatricality of it. "May I be of assistance today in your selection?"
Lucien blinked. He was, after all, just a child. But here, the staff didn't question age when noble blood was involved.
"Uhm… I was thinking…" Lucien hesitated for a moment, eyes flicking toward the noble patrons strutting through the aisles. "Something nice. Something stylish but not too flashy. Just… modest, I guess."
The salesman paused. His eyes drifted momentarily to Lucien's current attire—royal fabrics embroidered with the Velebrandt crest, fitted expertly by imperial tailors. Clothes that screamed luxury, born only in the halls of the highest aristocracy.
"Modest…" he echoed, his face betraying the slightest twitch of confusion. "But of course! We have just the selection in our boutique's inner section. This way, my lord."
Lucien nodded, still trying to appear composed as he followed behind the crisply dressed attendant. As they walked, he passed an aisle of enchanted cloaks, their textures shifting color depending on how the light struck them. A small child no older than Lucien was being dressed by three maids while a matronly woman clapped her hands.
"Oh my sweet boy! Doesn't he look just like his father in this velvet?"
One of the maids bowed. "Indeed, my lady. Like a young baron."
A nearby salesman simply repeated, "Exquisite choice, my lady. Exquisite," though he'd said that five times in a row.
The aisle buzzed with chatter, flickers of laughter, and the rustle of silk. Every corner of the boutique was alive with polished civility and aristocratic flair. And despite the decadence, it was oddly fascinating.
So this is what wealth and status look like in this world, Lucien thought. Not much different from the top-tier stores back home… just with more swords, magic thread, and enchanted cloaks.
The salesman leading him glanced back with a professional smile. "Right this way, young master. I believe you'll find just the style you're looking for."
And as they approached a new section with softer lighting and more reserved colors, Lucien couldn't help but wonder what he'd look like dressed as a noble without shouting "I'm rich" in every thread.
_________________________________________
The back section of the boutique was noticeably quieter, cloaked in a subtle elegance that differed from the main hall's theatrical buzz. The salesman led Lucien through a velvet-curtained corridor into a chamber filled with garments that lacked the flamboyance of noblewear—but radiated class all the same.
"These," the salesman gestured with a reverent hand, "are part of our subdued luxury collection. Crafted for nobility who prefer discretion over declaration. Each piece is tailored with refined enchantments—lightweight fabric, temperature moderation, and resistant to wear."
Lucien's eyes scanned the racks. The cuts were sleek, the colors earthy or muted—charcoal, ash, slate blue, deep forest green. No embroidered sigils, no gemstone buttons—just sharp tailoring and pristine seams. Though they looked simple at first glance, the materials shimmered faintly under the boutique's soft lighting, revealing their exceptional quality to the trained eye.
"This one in particular might suit your desires," the salesman said, lifting a set consisting of dark trousers, a crisp white long-sleeved shirt, and a fitted gilet dyed in a smooth slate gray. "A commoner might see this as professional wear… but anyone familiar with fine threadcount would understand."
Lucien accepted the garments with a nod, clutching them in his arms as he was politely shown to the changing chambers nearby. He pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the booth.
It was spacious, softly lit by a magical bulb that hung from the ceiling. It glowed with a gentle, warm hue—bright enough to see detail but not blinding. The walls were paneled with wood and inlaid with subtle enchantments to maintain privacy. A full-length mirror stood tall across the chamber, bordered by golden trim and reflecting Lucien's every move with uncanny sharpness.
Setting the clothes on a small padded bench, Lucien stood in front of the mirror for a moment, regarding his reflection. Even dressed in finery earlier, he still looked… young. Short of stature. But his red and grey eyes, the strange mix of ancient steel and burning ember, made him appear far older in spirit.
He reached for the shirt and began to undress.
As he slipped on the new garments—buttoning the shirt, pulling up the trousers, and adjusting the gilet—he looked at himself again and couldn't help but snort softly.
"I look like one of those overworked apprentices Rex and I passed by earlier. Maybe one from the merchant guild…"
He tucked his shirt more casually, tousled his hair slightly, and narrowed his eyes with a grin. The gilet clung perfectly to his frame, and the trousers had just enough taper to suggest bespoke tailoring without screaming it.
Still, uncertain of how convincing the look truly was, Lucien poked his head through the curtain and called, "Hey, can I get your opinion on something?"
The salesman immediately turned his head and approached with a graceful pace. "But of course, young master. Allow me."
Lucien stepped out slowly, standing straight with a faint flush of awkwardness. "This isn't too weird, right? I'm trying to look… well, normal."
The salesman placed a finger on his chin and studied Lucien from head to toe, his monocle gleaming subtly as it flickered with minor appraisal magic.
"Exquisite craftsmanship, tailored to your form… and yet, the look is humble. You blend in without vanishing. The effect is quite… masterful. This will do wonderfully, my lord."
Lucien's shoulders relaxed as he tried to suppress the pride blooming in his chest. The praise felt genuine, but more importantly—he didn't look like the heir of a Grand Duke.
Perfect.
"Great," he said, flashing a smug grin to the mirror, "now I'm just another face in the crowd"