Algernon Black || The Rise of a God ||

(Chapter 123) Quite a Few of Them

"The dresses here are amazing," Selice awed, wandering aisle after aisle of the most extravagant clothing shop. They had landed in Emora a day prior, with Marve docking his ship at a relatively untraveled port. Loy had mentioned to the pirate there would be a lot of people arriving to the capital on their way to Attwood's ball and he had a desire to stay hidden until he could make his grand appearance. And with another part of his plan in mind, Loy had intentionally lost Beal and Cal in the city's bustle and snuck Selice away to a dress shop off the main street.

"I'm glad you're having fun," Loy said, trailing after her. He didn't expect Selice to be as fascinated by the pretty dresses as she was, though she looked only half as enthralled compared to when she obtained a new invention.

Selice brushed the tips of her fingers across the dresses down the long winding aisles, before stopping at a particular one that had caught her eyes by its vibrant deep red dye. She pulled it from the rack, gazing at the thousands mini jewels dotting the ends. It complimented well with her recently acquired tan after nearly six months of travel.

"I hope you'll be just as enthusiastic when we go to Attwood's ball," Loy added, catching up beside her.

"You're taking me?" she asked anxious as her hands wound into the fabric.

Loy chuckled at her explicit distress. "Yes. And as much as I'd love to see you in that, you won't be wearing a dress by my side. It's safer for you to be in disguise, especially amongst those people." Loy dangled Selice's pendant necklace before her.

She stared at her reflection in it. "Why are we here then?"

Loy peered in Attwood's direction. It wasn't far and that chill to his bones that had been bothering him for months grew grievously cold.

"More than just that boy, I'd like to meet someone else," Loy replied, pulling out a dress with lots of frills and eye-catching details. "Aren't you also curious to meet this sister Jared talked so fondly about?"

Selice nodded, but gazed down at the gown she'd picked out.

"And what a stunning dress you have come across!" a flamboyant man's voice, not belonging to Loy, shouted from behind.

Selice jerked back by the unforeseen interruption, as the shop owner forwardly inserted himself into their conversation.

"And as the dress's designer, I have full authority to say that." The man grinned, with a deep blue duster coat tailored perfectly to just above his ankles.

"And who would I be?" Loy asked, taking in the man's silky white hair that descended all the way to his tailbone.

"The owner of this shop," the man announced, with an exaggerated bow, "Aloysius Belmonte."

Selice ogled the man, thinking he may be the same height as Devane which was an odd thing for anyone to be so tall.

"The master of all textiles, fabrics, and alterations." Aloysius lifted his head to wink at Selice.

"Well Aloysius," Loy cheerfully returned, approving of his spirit and showmanship. "I am in need of a dress, but not for this lovely woman." He smiled at the seamstress as he pulled forth the ostentatious red frilled-full dress. "Could you send this forward to someone?"

Aloysius nodded as he plucked the gown off the rack. "To whom would I be sending it too?"

"A miss Lucy Lahue."

Aloysius's demeanor abruptly dropped with the dress slumping flat in his arms. Loy picked up on his noticeable shift of temper, and raised up his own guard.

"This dress wouldn't suit her," Aloysius declared, all friendliness of before abandoned.

Loy's eyes narrowed, but Selice was the one to speak.

"You know her?" she asked, wondering what connection could be made between the two since Jared said Lucy had been raised to know no one but himself. 

"I've had the pleasure of finally meeting her recently," Aloysius shortened, growing defensive in case they bore wrongful intent. "I'm much better acquainted with her brother though," he warned.

"Jared?" Selice asked.

"He's a dear friend of mine," Aloysius asserted in a protective that spoke for the fact he wasn't going to stand for any kind of threat to his friend or his little sister. "A very dear friend."

"Ours as well," Loy replied, attempting to disarm the suspicion in the seamstress' voice.

Aloysius examined the well-built man. It may have been his brown leather poncho that made his frame appear so big, but the seamstress sensed a powerful presence beyond just what his muscles conveyed.

"But more importantly, he is a man with the same goals as me," Loy added, sliding back his poncho with a shrug of his shoulder to reveal his necklace. Aloysius stared at the artifact. He was well acquainted with the artifacts of Emora and recognized the weapon right away to piece together who was in his shop. "And enemies."

Aloysius searched the prince's crystal blue eyes to see no lies. He had become exceptional at spotting liars by necessity.

"That dress wouldn't suit her," Aloysius restated, choosing a distinct one of a gray shimmering hue that caught all the light in the room and changed colors as it did. The one he had put aside for her months ago.

Loy looked at the gown, preserving it to memory, and then back to the seamstress. "What do you want for it?"

"Your world." Aloysius eyed the world-famous psychotic prince of Etilia. "Quite a few of them."