The subjugation of Carling Hill had not been kind to Alarion.

He had fared better than most, it was true. But looking at himself in the full-length dressing room mirror, Alarion was startled by the damage it had wrought.

His chest had been heavily bound in bandages since he'd first awoken. With his final discharge from the hospital, they had been cut away to reveal the angry pink flesh of newly formed scars. One was long and thin, a slash that he did not remember receiving during the chaotic melee against his risen comrades. Another was the coin-shaped bullet wound Velcor had gifted him with, sitting just above the old wounds left by the Duke, the Butcher, and Sierra.

Just as troubling were the signs of wasting. He had spent weeks in bed before regaining consciousness, and even now, he was still recovering. His body ached, and his muscles were weak. He looked out of shape, his once rigidly muscular chest showing signs of sagging and malnutrition.

Alarion had never been shy about his body, but he didn't like what he saw in the mirror. And that was before putting on the dress uniform.

"Are you all right, Orphan?" Lily asked from the other side of the dressing room door. "Do you need help?"

He would rather die.

The tailor had been her idea; one among many. She'd moved him from the hospital to a merchant quarter villa mere minutes after their first conversation. There she set him up with a chef, a tutor, and a stylist. If her purse had limits, they had come nowhere near the bottom, with Lily spending outrageously whenever the need arose.

Lily had spent most of the week drilling in every lesson that, in her words, 'his mother should have taught him'. She forced him to stand up straight, to look ahead, and not at the ground when he walked. She reminded him to look at those he was talking with, and taught him to at least pretend to be interested. His schedule was strict and regimented, far more so than it had ever been—even among the Auxilia.

Alarion's mornings were taken up with a mix of continental and Vitrian history. Not just the dry politics of war and nations, but art and music. His afternoons were dedicated to rehabilitation and preparation, with exercises in the courtyard led by Lily, who prompted him with sample questions and scenarios.

A mother walks up to you and tells you that her son was lost during the Carling subjugation. What do you say?

Apparently, 'I do not know who you are talking about' was not the correct answer.

She left him time for his hobbies in the evenings, for mediocre music and his endless study of the Structures, the twelve key legal texts that formed the core of Vitrian law. She even approved of the latter, given how well it could be spun in the media.

The music? Well, she had yet to complain.

If anything, it seemed Lily's primary complaint was that Alarion was boring. Ashad-Vitri was small by the scale of continental capitals, understandable given that it was younger than Alarion, but the city still had a vivid nightlife. With sixteen as the age of majority, Alarion was old enough to go carousing; to put his newfound fame to good use—but he showed no interest.

She'd been pushing and prodding for days, trying to get him to open up through whatever methods she had at her disposal. Alarion was convinced she had paid the staff to engage in small talk whenever they crossed his path. No one was that friendly. He knew for a fact that she had leaked their plans for the day to local reporters.

That he was obviously smitten with her was one more weapon she was all too happy to wield when it suited her.

"Orphan?" she asked again.

"I am fine," he answered, doing his best to keep the annoyance from his voice.

Alarion had no illusions about his chances, nor even any actual intention of pursuing her. Lily was at least several years his senior, more mature and educated by an order of magnitude. She was his mentor and his manager, and either was enough to disqualify the very idea. But she was also very pretty and flirted shamelessly with almost anyone who crossed her path. Every time she smiled in his direction, it was hard not to ask, what if?

He plucked the royal blue overcoat from a nearby hanger and slid into it one arm at a time. The garment was one of three identical dress uniforms, each perfectly tailored to his form. Edged in gold, the overcoat folded left over right, held in place down his right side with a series of silken ties. A matching golden sash wrapped tight around his waist, tied off in a loop on his left side in the Vitrian style.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Two crossed ties linked the breast flap to his right shoulder, a signifier of his new rank, while the cloth pauldron on his left shoulder was emblazoned with an unfamiliar sigil, embroidered in gold.

He looked like a Vitrian. Though Auxilia had every right to wear a dress uniform, none was provided upon induction. To wear one was a statement to his rulers.

I am your equal.

Alarion had protested that it would send a different message to the Ashadi, that it would mark him as the Vitrian's creature, but Lily disagreed. His background was public knowledge, as were the risks he took to save Ashadi lives. A fancy uniform would not outweigh those facts.

"It feels tight in the neck, like it is choking me," Alarion complained, one finger pulling at the high neck collar.

Lily slapped his hand away and reached for the collar. She fretted with it for several seconds until a piece of leather came free in her hand. "These are there to hold it up for display. You are supposed to take them out."

"Ah," Alarion blushed. "How do I look?"

"Strangely respectable." She continued pulling at his clothing, ignoring his flustered expression. She re-tied the bindings on his right side, cleaning up his messy knots before smoothing down the fit. "How does it feel?"

"Like a costume."

"Mm, I suppose it sort of is. But I am asking about comfort. You will be wearing these for the foreseeable future, so if they are not comfortable-"

"I thought these were for special occasions?" Alarion interrupted.

"No. Well, yes, but I expect you to wear them around town so long as you remain in Ashad-Vitri."

"You are joking."

"Never about fashion," Lily said. "You need to present a proper image to the people. That starts with your appearance. When you are in the field, you can dress like a disheveled hobo to your heart's content, but when you are facing the public, you will look respectable."

Alarion opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it. Lily argued for a living, and she seldom lost as a result. Whatever argument he might make, she would have an answer. At best, he could refuse to wear the uniforms, but that would make him seem like a petulant child.

"It is a little tight in the shoulders."

"Sadly, that is normal. It costs a little comfort to look that good," she commiserated, patting his shoulder before heading in search of the tailor and leaving him to wonder at the compliment. When Alarion started back toward the dressing room, she stopped him. "You are wearing that out of here, so do not bother to change."

Alarion returned to the dressing room, collecting his old clothing and passing it along to Kotone for storage. He felt odd without some of his equipment. His [Sash of Fiendish Regeneration] clashed with two of the three uniforms, and his [Sandals of Striding and Springing] were an obvious no-go from the start, as were his bracers. Echo, at least, could be tucked inside the inner pocket of the uniform, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.

Complete with its newest upgrade.

Echo — Thrice-Shifting Imperial Greatsword [Exceptional](Complete)

Description: A miniature Imperial Greatsword created to match the aesthetic tastes of Alarion, Ward of the House of Hunger. It bears the sigil of the House of Hunger in its core and an onyx fragment of a True Heart in its pommel.

Requirements: None

Type: Weapon

Enchantment: On mental command, this weapon can shift between a miniature state and that of an Imperial Greatsword ideally sized to the user's current height and strength scores.

On mental command, this weapon can shift its bonded user to its current location. This costs a variable amount of MP depending on distance traveled. The effect is instantaneous.

On mental command, this weapon can shift the temporal state of its attack forward or backward by up to half a second. This costs a variable amount of MP depending on the duration shifted. The nature of this temporal shift varies on whether the weapon is thrown or used in melee.

He had been given the pommel stone as a reward for the quest [Kill It], finally completing his original magic item. As with its predecessors, Alarion had taken to testing its newest ability like a fish to water.

The temporal shifting effect seemed complicated on paper, but in practice, it followed a similar sort of logic as the others. When thrown, Alarion could will the enchantment forward or backward, causing the weapon to skip through time, striking an opponent before they dodged or delaying a critical moment to avoid a block or parry. Even better, he could combine the effects, making it much more difficult for his foes to target him as he shifted to Echo.

In melee, much like with the original effect, things were more complicated. The time warping power of the sword did not speed him up or slow him down. Instead, it sped up or delayed the effect of his attack. When sped up, Alarion could start a swing, only to have his target cut while the blade remained above his head. When slowed down, his attack could cleanly miss, only to cleave a target running into the gap. Stranger still, in both instances, the sword would pass cleanly through the target without causing damage if it struck them while shifted.

It would take time before he could cleanly use the time-shifting effect in close combat, but Alarion could already see the use cases. He could slip blade binds by passing through his target, issue unusually dangerous 'feints', and strike his foes unexpectedly. But perhaps the most potent combination was the first Skill Circuit Alarion could call his own.

By combining [Foresight] with the delayed strikes, Alarion no longer had to time his strikes to correspond with where the enemy would be. Instead, he could engage directly with their afterimages, parrying attacks that hadn't yet happened and attacking openings he knew were coming. It was an MP-intensive fighting style, but the combination of size and time-shifting attacks would be a nightmare for any opponent operating in a mere three dimensions.

"Are you ready?" Lily asked.

Alarion collected his scarf from the hook where he had hung it and wrapped it twice around his neck. Lily gave the crimson fabric a skeptical look, then nodded.

"If you are going to wear it, then you always need to wear it," she warned him. "But I like it. It adds a certain… flair."

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