The tailor’s hall in Aurelthane’s manor was built for nobility—quiet, refined, and meant to hold maybe three dignitaries at a time.

  It was absolutely not built to withstand five grown men, two tiefling siblings, one cosmic weasel, and the collective chaos of the Crimson Dice.

  And yet… here they were.

  The Doors Burst Open

  “—I TOLD YOU, LAZ,” Garruk barked as he ducked through the doorway, “NO ONE should look that smug in brocade!”

  Behind him, Laz strolled in like a man entering his own coronation, golden-embroidered jacket shimmering like pure arrogance.

  “Jealousy,” Laz offered, “is a disease. I’ll send flowers.”

  Kaer, already rubbing the bridge of his nose, muttered, “We’ve been here ten seconds.”

  Borin stomped in next, beard freshly oiled and braided for the fitting.

  His vest—purple, paisley, violently Borin—glowed like it demanded its own theme music.

  “IF it ain’t bright, it ain’t RIGHT,” Borin declared to the terrified tailor.

  Finally Elaris entered—quiet, calm, deceptively composed—his white shirt crisp, his suspenders immaculate, and over one arm—

  the coat.

  Black velvet. Gold embroidery that swirled like arcane filigree. Patterns that looked suspiciously like mirrored sigils of his Lattice, except stylised to be “fashion” rather than “cosmic necromancy.”

  Laz whistled.

  Kaer raised a brow.

  Garruk froze.

  Borin: “By my beard… ye look like a KING.”

  Elaris, for once, blushed.

  “I thought… it felt right.”

  The tailor fainted.

  Tailor 1 : Please Hold Still S-

  He never finished that sentence.

  Garruk flexed.

  The pin snapped.

  The tailor choked on a prayer.

  “STOP flexing!” Kaer barked.

  “I’M NOT FLEXING,” Garruk protested—flexing harder.

  Borin slapped his thigh. “HA! Lookit him! Ain’t a suit alive that can hold that one!”

  Garruk grinned. Another pin snapped.

  Two tailors carried the third tailor out on a stretcher.

  Tailor 2: Sir - Gods! Your Arm Just Pl-

  Kaer’s fitting was… complicated.

  He stood rigid, disciplined, trying to cooperate—

  Until the cosmic weasel Pancake climbed onto his shoulder, curled around his neck like a sentient scarf, and tried to “assist” by grabbing the measuring tape.

  Kaer: “No. No. Pancake. DROP IT.”

  Pancake: cheep-cheep-chitter (refusing)

  Laz translated, smirking:

  “He says your neck is the circumference of an underwhelming tree.”

  Kaer: “He WHAT—?!”

  He jerked; the tailor screamed; someone got poked; Pancake fled with the measuring tape like a ferret-thief king.

  Tailor 3: Why is He Posing? Sir Please? Stop

  Laz wasn’t being fitted.

  Laz was performing.

  Every time a pin came near him, he struck a new pose.

  A swirl of the coat.

  A smoulder.

  A deep V hand-on-hip tilt.

  Tailor: “PLEASE hold still—!”

  Laz: “Art can’t be contained, darling.”

  The tailor began softly crying.

  Vex appeared at the doorway just to heckle:

  “PUT YOUR HIP DOWN, YOU PEACOCK.”

  Laz: “Says the woman who requested in writing seven layers of lace.”

  Vex: “IT’S IN MY TITLE!”

  Borins Turn

  The dwarf proudly slapped his chest.

  “Give me somethin’ simple,” he said.

  Everyone—EVERYONE—stared at his violent neon vest.

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  Elaris, delicately: “…Borin.”

  Borin: “SIMPLE, I SAID!”

  Tailor: “Sir, the pattern on your vest is… glowing?”

  Borin: “Aye! I forged the fabric myself. Arcane flame-stitch. Won’t wrinkle, won’t tear, and if someone annoys me—”

  He snapped his fingers.

  “—it heats up.”

  The tailor dropped every pin he owned.

  Elaris - The Calm Until -

  Elaris stepped forward last, serene, letting the tailor settle the ornate coat over his shoulders.

  Silence fell over the room.

  The coat fit like it had been born there—elegant, powerful, regal and arcane all at once.

  Suspender lines sharp.

  White shirt immaculate.

  Gold embroidery catching the candlelight until it shimmered like spellwork.

  He looked… heartbreakingly good.

  “That’s our Shepherd,” Garruk whispered, genuinely emotional.

  “Damn right,” Laz said.

  Borin sniffed.

  Kaer nodded, slow and approving.

  And then—

  Pancake climbed up Elaris’s back and curled into the coat collar like it was a hammock.

  Elaris froze.

  “Pancake… please don’t shed in this—”

  Pancake plopped down harder.

  The coat shifted, tightening around Elaris’s shoulders in a way that was either fate, magic…

  …or a weasel using him as a cushion.

  Still.

  He looked magnificent.

  The Tailors were Broken Men

  One knelt before Elaris like witnessing a divine vision.

  Another asked Borin if dwarven ale could erase memories.

  The third requested early retirement.

  The men stood in a line.

  Kaer in sleek black-and-gold formality.

  Garruk in suspenders stretched near the breaking point.

  Borin glowing like a festival lantern.

  Laz looking like a devilish prince of swagger.

  Elaris—quiet, elegant, heartbreakingly handsome—holding his coat at the collar with a shy smile.

  The tailor-in-charge whispered:

  “…Gods help us.

  They’re perfect.”

  And outside the door, muffled through wood and distance:

  Sereth’s unmistakeable voice:

  “ARE THEY DONE YET—?!”

  Followed by Elyra:

  “Probably not. Laz is in there.”

  Followed by Vex laughing:

  “I AM SETTING SOMEONE ON FIRE IF THEY DON’T HURRY.”

  And Arden’s gentle prayer-like sigh:

  “Light preserve us all…”

  Sereth Sees Elaris in His Fitting

  The tailors were still sweeping up fallen pins, broken tape measures, and whatever remained of their sanity when a soft knock tapped at the far door.

  It wasn’t loud.

  It didn’t need to be.

  Every man in the room froze like woodland beasts hearing a twig snap.

  Kaer straightened.

  Borin puffed his beard.

  Garruk tried to hide behind Kaer (it didn’t work).

  Laz smirked knowingly.

  And Elaris…

  Elaris felt his heart climb right into his throat.

  The door creaked open—slow, hesitant, as if someone was still deciding whether she should interrupt.

  And then she stepped inside.

  No armor.

  No bow.

  No grit of battle.

  Just Sereth.

  Hair braided over one shoulder, the white streak catching light like moon-silver.

  A soft, curious smile forming before she even understood what she was looking at.

  The world contracted down to a single point.

  Elaris Vorn.

  Her Elaris.

  Standing in the center of the room in an embroidered black-and-gold coat that shimmered like constellations trapped in velvet.

  The coat framed him—broad at the shoulders, regal down the length, the gold scrolling like sigils of old magic.

  Suspenders neat.

  White shirt sharp.

  Eyes warm and startled and beautiful.

  Sereth’s breath left her body.

  Completely, genuinely gone.

  Silence

  The kind that isn’t awkward—it’s sacred.

  Her steps were soft as she walked closer, but every man in the room felt it like thunder.

  Elaris couldn’t breathe.

  His hands twitched like he didn’t know what to do with them, so he pressed them gently to his sides, as though presenting himself for her approval.

  When she finally stopped in front of him, she didn’t speak.

  She simply looked.

  Slowly.

  Thoughtfully.

  Reverently.

  Her gaze traveled up from his polished boots…

  along the tailored fall of the coat…

  past the golden embroidery…

  across the suspender lines she loved far more than she’d ever admit…

  and finally—finally—up to his eyes.

  He swallowed.

  “Sereth…?”

  Her voice came out in a whisper, cracked with emotion.

  “Elaris… you look…”

  She tried again, because the word wasn’t big enough.

  “Gods… you look beautiful.”

  His breath hitched. “I—beautiful?”

  Sereth’s smile softened into something molten, something private, something only for him.

  She stepped closer, raising both hands to the lapels of his coat, smoothing the fabric over his chest.

  Her fingers lingered, tracing the embroidery lightly.

  “He looks like a king,” Garruk murmured behind them.

  Kaer elbowed him.

  “Shut up. This is their moment.”

  Sereth`s Hands Trembled

  Just a little.

  Just enough that he noticed.

  Elaris gently covered them with his own.

  “Are you alright?” he asked, quiet, intimate.

  Sereth nodded, then shook her head, then laughed—a soft, stunned sound as her cheeks warmed.

  “I just… I didn’t think…”

  She swallowed hard.

  “I didn’t think my heart could fall for you all over again in a tailor’s room.”

  Elaris smiled—a slow, disbelieving smile that reached his eyes and crinkled the corners.

  He leaned close, forehead brushing hers.

  “You’re the one who takes my breath away every time you enter a room.”

  The tailors collectively swooned.

  Laz pretended to gag.

  Borin wiped a tear the size of a raindrop from his beard.

  Kaer gave up and walked into a wall to avoid seeing the intimacy.

  Garruk whispered, “I ship it.”

  Sereth slid her hands down his stomach—not intentionally seductive, just tracing the lines of his coat from lapel to waist—

  Until her palms rested gently over his lower abdomen.

  She stared at where they touched.

  The smallest flicker of something—

  something she’d been feeling for days—

  fluttered warm beneath their intertwined hands.

  Her breath caught.

  His did too.

  Their eyes met.

  The bond pulsed.

  Gentle.

  Hopeful.

  Alive.

  Elaris whispered, voice barely sound:

  “Sereth…?”

  She whispered back:

  “…when this war ends… we’ll know.”

  The warmth in their bond deepened, twining around both of them like a promise.

  Kaer, Garruk, Borin, Laz, and even Pancake might as well have been statues.

  The world was just Sereth.

  Just Elaris.

  Just the golden embroidery catching the light as they leaned into each other with matching, breathless smiles—

  as if seeing their future in the reflection of one another’s eyes.

  “Let me see you after the final fitting,” she murmured.

  “I want to steal you before the others do.”

  Elaris flushed—

  “Oh—ah—I—”

  He cleared his throat.

  “Yes. Yes, absolutely. Immediately.”

  She kissed the corner of his mouth, soft and secretive.

  And whispered against his skin:

  “Gods, I love you.”

  She left before he could even speak.

  He didn’t move for a full minute.

  Laz Broke the silence

  “I’m just saying, if I don’t get a moment like THAT at my future wedding, I’m burning the venue down.”

  Kaer: “Not now, Laz.”

  Garruk: “She called him beautiful. Beautiful. I’m never letting him forget that.”

  Elaris, dazed, dazed, dazed:

  “…She loves the coat.”

  Borin patted his back.

  “That ain’t what she loved, lad.”

  Pancake climbed into Elaris’s collar again like a smug talisman of fate.

  Elaris didn’t even notice.

  He was still floating.