35 Blue for the Funeral (1/2)
Unlike Porcero's outer city with its chaotic layout off the wide main roads, the inner city was neatly divided into blocks through and through. The buildings themselves were uniform, if somewhat lacking in care. Throughout the years, the neat white plaster of the walls had turned yellow and developed spots and holes, revealing the raw stone underneath. Like all the housing built along the inner wall there was only a single floor. After all, the wall itself served as one of the four sides of the building. Wares produced on the outside would be transported directly through the common border between the two, since the commoners of the outside had no right to enter the inner city, yet the nobles inside still demanded the luxuries produced by ordinary craftsmen.
Corco entered the shop through the open wood-and-paper frame door, accompanied by the soft sound of a chime swinging in the wind. Since the building was low in height, it had to be built wide to accommodate all the desires of the rich. Thus, its inside was as spacious as Corco had expected. All throughout the establishment, the walls were lined with carpets made of expensive cloth, to show off the shop's assortment, while several enormous bronze mirrors broke the room up into sections. Installed along the back wall one could find large wooden rolls loaded with merchandise. Finally, the nominal shop keeper, a chubby middle-aged man in a red tunic, could be found on a chair towards the side. Too busy with his afternoon nap, he failed to notice his new guests.
”Good morning, friend!” Corco gave an energetic greeting to help the man out in his work.
”Huh, wha..?”
While the flustered clerk gathered himself and then waddled over, Corco patiently waited at the entrance.
”Valued guest, I humbly implore you to ignore the tardiness. This servant will provide to the best of his abilities.” His senses finally with him, the clerk started to bow and apologize profusely.
”Can you stop the grovelling? You are not my servant so why would I care what you do? If you have to, make up for your mistake by showing me around properly. I need some quality cloth.” Corco really wasn't comfortable with the deferential attitude those of lower status would show in this country, so his answer turned out much more brusque than he had hoped. Rather than attempt to fix his country's entire culture, he decided to focus on the more immediate tasks instead: Getting some new clothes.
”Of course, valued guest. This way.” On hurried steps the clerk led Corco and his men towards the far end of the establishment, back to the wooden scrolls which seemed to contain the shop's best pieces of work.
”Please take a look, valued guest. Pure Chutwa silk. Gold and white are very popular colors at the moment, especially with valued guests from afar like yourself. I am sure it will be to valued guest's great satisfaction.” He pointed towards a particular scroll of amber cloth on which complex, geometrical patterns in white were outlined by thin, black thread.
”What did you mean by that? 'Popular with guests from afar'? Is Porcero receiving foreign trade? I'm not a 'valued guest from afar', by the way, I'm a Yaku, just like you.”
Once again Corco had stumbled onto a strange difference from before. When he had left seven years ago, his father had been very keen to limit trade with the foreigners from Arcavia to a necessary minimum, yet no one here seemed surprised at Corco's Arcavian clothing.
”...foreign dignitaries have been coming and going through Porcero for quite some time. They are valued customers. Since young master was dressed in their manner, this servant made undue assumptions. Please excuse this servant's rudeness, young master.”
”It's fine, please just stop apologizing.” Even though he wasn't a 'young master' either, Corco would rather not correct the man any more. Instead, he pointed at the gaudy amber silk and asked: ”Is that all you have? Maybe something less tacky?”
”Is young master not satisfied with our gold cloth? These days, it is even worn amongst the nobility in the capital.”
”...really, white and gold? What happened to our traditional colors?” As soon as he said the words and saw the clerk's uncomfortable look, he understood that he had asked the wrong guy. Thus, he focused on his purchase once again. ”You don't have anything traditional? How about some blue robes? Show me a wave pattern maybe. It's for a funeral after all.”
”Of course, young master. Right over here young master! A rolling wave pattern in dark blue and emerald colors. Would this be to young masters liking?”
As if to answer the clerk's question, Corco rolled out some of the cloth and held it to his chest as he observed himself in a nearby mirror. For the future ruler of Medala, he looked remarkably unimpressive. His height was short for a member of the nobility, many of whom were abnormally tall, and his physique and face seemed quite stocky. If nothing else, the extra fat around his cheeks made him seem friendly and approachable; at least that was what he wanted to believe. His shoulder-length brown hair distinguished him from many of the black-haired lords on the northern peninsula of Yakuallpa, as did his dark skin, which against common practice he had not powdered to appear more white. Never again would he hide his true nature to fit in anywhere, not now that he had the power to ignore the archaic customs of others.
”This seems nice,” Corco said in reaction to the cloth. ”Give me enough length for a tunic. Oh, do you also do tailoring here? I've just come back and don't exactly have a tailor with me.”
”Not here, but I can help young master contact one of the workers outside.”
”Good, then get me that blue-gray cloth over there and make a robe to go over the tunic. And make it nice and thick. It's still winter after all.”
”Of course, young master. This servant will have to take measure for the initial cut of the robe. Thus young master will have to excuse this servant's forward request, but young master will have to remove the vest. Tomorrow, young master may go visit the tailor in person, for the final fitting.”
”Sure, that's fine. Make it a traditional cut please... and give me a good few pockets. Oh, I'll need a headband as well. Something simple.”
Nonchalantly Corco gave his list of demands while he took off his vest for measurements. Underneath, he revealed a thin silk undershirt and the heavy chain mail armor he always carried on his back, the true cause of his stocky physique. Even though his torso was still covered, his arms, toned from years of training, were revealed, together with the tattoos of abstract, blocky patterns which covered both arms over their entire length.
”Th-that's...” As realization turned to shock and then to horror, he clerk stared at the ink, unblinking. ”It might be better if young master leaves now.”
”Since when are Sacha markings a problem?” Corco answered in confusion, his look moving down to the traditional patterns of southern Medala on his arm.
”...please do not make life impossible for this servant, young master.” The clerk reverted back to his natural state and resumed his grovelling. While he cowered into a pose of submission under a barrage of apologies, Fadelio finally lost the temper he had been holding onto for a while already.
”Enough! Not only do you insult my lord by calling him a mere 'young master', now a lowly servant even denies service? What good are you exactly?” In large, imposing steps, the intimidating warrior closed in, but the servant still wouldn't budge.
”No, please! I could become an outcast!”
”Good, then right now you have the choice between possible exile eventually and certain death right now. Choose!” Anger flared, Fadelio drew the heavy axe at his hip.
”No, Lord, forgive me!”
”On your feet!”
”Y-yes. Of course.”
”Take the measurement!”
”U-understood.”
His life threatened, the clerk followed the warrior's commands. Finally his shaky hands went to work on Corco's measurement. With more force than necessary, Fadelio put his axe back into its designated sling on his waist. ”Honestly, why does this have to be so hard? Every step in this damn town is one giant struggle.”
”U-Uhm...”While the warrior was still grumbling about the last delay, the clerk already had the next one in store. Wide-eyed, the warrior stared back.
”Is there something else?” Corco chimed in before his attendant could kill the clerk out of sheer annoyance.
”Lord will have to remove the armor.”
”It's fine like this. I'll wear it under the tunic anyways.”
”Good, then th-thats...”
As the servant moved towards Corco, Fadelio closed in as well to prevent any incidents. Corco knew that the warrior wouldn't allow anything to go wrong, not now that they had finally made it back home.
”...and finally one elbow and ... two hands at the shoulder. That should be enough for an initial tailoring. I hope Lord is satisfied.”
”Thanks.” An immovable smile on his face, Corco looked at the servant for a good few seconds, before, without warning, the prince slapped his opposite's cheeks as hard as he could. With the cultivator's full weight behind the hit, the clerk was sent reeling backwards and down onto his knees.
”Why, Lord, I...” Confused and stammering, he tried to grasp the situation.
Corco grinned in response.