Chương 173: Chapter 194: Outside of a Look

The opening night of Fashion Week does have to include some degree of a fashion show, I suppose. It cannot all be subterfuge and sniping, gathering endorsements and dodging assassins. At some point the designers get to interrupt all the hard work and show off the dresses that some arbitrary voice has decided are the chic trendy looks of the season.

For all the things I do know about this process, from the assassinations and the hidden interplay of cards and seating arrangements and color-coded accessories and the careful language of innuendo and influence, I still have no idea who's actually in charge of the clothing fashions and the new designs. Someone in this world is in charge of translating the game's concept art into a rationale for the actual in-world events.

They don't always do a great job, but when it comes to this haute couture fashion scene, I suspect that the less I know the less annoyed I'll be. Fortunately this time they've taken the good sense not to press starched lace directly against naked skin at flexion joints. So, that's all to the good. Admittedly, I had harbored some secret hopes that I would be the trendsetter, that someone was paying attention to my innovative looks and was going to put them on that stage.

Not because I want to have that credit and recognition and not because my ego needs that boost. But because those are the looks that I like, and I want people to let me wear them without treating me like I'm treading the boundaries of socially acceptable behavior. My work here is very dependent on public approval so I can't just throw other people's opinions away entirely, but god I wish I could just wear what I want.

Judging by what's on that stage, this next season is going to be defined by accessories and millinery. All the dresses were conspicuously fussy with fasteners, clips and rings, from which suspended sashes, scarves, chains, and chatelaines. Add to this bare-wristed riding gloves, ascots, cravats, hats tied under the chin or chignon, bangles, dangles, wristlets and bracelets, shrugs, boleros, boas, buckles, clothing tacks, brooches and pins.

Walking-sticks, parasols, hand-fans, and clutch purses just to give us something else to worry about. It's so fucking chintz. It looks like they're eschewing embroidery and fabric-fusion now, stripping down all the other elements to throw all the responsibility onto the gewgaws and doodads. I was annoyed by this but I did not start getting mad until I heard that one of these designers was putting their entire line in rayon.

Over the winter months, everything was going to be in willow and bamboo rayon, because it sets off the metallic accessories so well. Thin, breathable rayon. That's a summer fabric. I know I'm going to be all right, I'm constantly moderating my microclimate for comfort. But everyone else is gonna be suffering. Those scarves and shawls are going to be out in force this year. Would it have been so much to ask that they give up the petticoats and let us walk about in a draped skirt?

Why couldn't that be the great new trend? Why couldn't they just let us be comfortable? I sat for the whole event, and took a few notes to pass on to Lady Hanje when I saw her. If the big trend coming up is peripherals and paraphernalia, I can use that to my advantage. I want to get all of our people on one page about what metals, fabrics and stones we'll be using. And, this might be a particularly good opportunity for our spy network to actually get some details from some of the other vendeuse.

After all, I've only got so much mana. If I can control or influence the movements of everyone at a formal event, I'll need to have the right affinities prepared in advance. The bastard-in-chief at Grennick had told me that I need to stop moving through an event, that I should start establishing myself as the person that makes others come to her. And aside from the good sense that makes for his reasons, I'm already turning this over in my head.

As I sit here in this audience, holding still, around mostly-stationary people, I'm getting a finer and finer resolution with my sorcerous senses. My ability to perceive the elements I hold affinity for has a certain range, and I can fit most of a large room into it. If I can start tracking every shirt and shoe, every button and brooch, I can start gathering information that would not normally be available.

Just being able to keep track of which people someone has spoken to, in what order, could put me on top of some schemes. Sure, listening in would be better and I can wish I could do that, but just knowing who is associating with whom is a massive thing. I used to call that metadata. Now, it's just background information. The principle is the same. And if I can get Lady Hanje on board, she can make this a lot easier for me.

Once I start seeing the tactical advantages, I started really paying attention to the collections onstage. Petty was right next to me when I realized this, and I could see her shoot a concerned look my way when I suddenly took an interest, leaning in. I kept getting the corner of her eye out of the corner of my eye, like she was trying to figure out what I was up to. Keep wondering, Petty. I'm not one of those naysayers to scoff at trends, fashions, or fabrics.

I'm not the kind of hardcore pragmatist that would never take an interest. But my cousin already knows me well enough to know that if I switch from 'casual interest' to 'taking notes', then that means someone, somewhere, has just been lined up behind the eight-ball and they don't know it yet. And by now I know Petunia well enough to know that she's going to call me out on it as soon as the house lights come back up.

"All right, you're up to something already," she said, eyeing me with a good-natured suspicion.

"What are you talking about?" Bruce said, trying not to look like he just woke up from a bad nap. The crowd was rising to their feet, some folks were stamping out the pins and needles, others were bustling for the restrooms. And even though there was not a Princess Lachel to confront me there, I held off visiting the washrooms for the time being. I've had nothing but bad experiences with visiting the washrooms immediately after the stage show at Fashion Week.

There was a general milling of the crowd, but the three of us were already withdrawing to the center of the main floor, where Harigolds had staked out earlier. Petunia jutted her chin to indicate me.

"About halfway through Snowbound Seasonal Samples, Cousin Natalie here found a muse of inspiration and I want to know what she's up to." They've been really cool about a lot of stuff, neither of them wanted to give me a hard time about taking the reins for our family and that had made everything so much easier for me. I could have pushed my way to the front, muscling them out and shutting Nathan out of the process and using proximity to cut my parents out of the process.

But honestly that had never really been necessary because they both decided early to trust me and to back me up. Neither of them wanted to be in the hot seat for House intrigues and politicking and jockeying for favor, but they had gone above that when they supported my bid and lent me a lot of legitimacy that really streamlined the process. In this world hardly anything actually goes smoothly and easily, so I treasure those that will help with that. And so I really do owe them both a decent explanation.

But first, I decompress the air around us and whirl it a little bit, so our voices will be muted and background sounds will drown us out.

"All right, so the next six months are going to get kind of intense. We're going to be building up a lot more friction against the royal house, all coming to a head. This isn't my doing, it was going to happen with or without me. I just put myself at the front of it so it all looks like I'm in charge. And I had been at a loss as to how best to prepare our people for what's coming. But, something that was said sparked a thought, and now I'm putting it together.

In a very hands-on sort of way, I think I can get us some real concrete advantages. For one thing, no more assassinations. Better communications. Comfort is not to be underestimated, you're better at everything if you're more comfortable. I've got a good feeling about what's coming up." Bruce looked over at her.

"You're right, Penny, this is very concerning. This whole time we've all been hanging our asses out for random impulses, wild improvisation and mysterious imperatives and now we find that she's started making plans like some sort of plebian."

"You could take this seriously," Petty said." Plans, Petty. What are we coming to?"

"It does feel a little bit like cheating, doesn't it?" I said, folding my hands behind my back. Bruce's dry cynicism was paired against my gleeful impishness. Petunia wagged a finger to scold me.

"You! Don't encourage him. Look, you're both quite witty, and that's fine. But I do think that whatever is going on with your notebook, it's something for us to discuss. I will always get suspicious when I see Natalie get that spark in her eye-""There was no spark!"

"-but now she's talking about friction and advantages, but in that low-key way that she does when she's actually talking about risk to life and limb, and that brings me from dubious to concerned." Petunia continued, with a glare at me. It was a toothless glare, just the suggestion of disapproval without any sting. But I felt a sting anyway, realizing that the very circumspect way that Rabert Frantlin has been teaching me to speak has been filtering into my speech even when I don't intend it to.

I had thought I was coming to them as frankly and transparently as possible, only to have her point out that I'm speaking in code. I find that I'm a lot more indifferent to rebukes that are intended as rebukes. But when someone casually observes one of my foibles as if it was something we all know and accept? That bites a lot deeper. That feels like the criticism that nobody ever brings up because they assume you can't be changed for the better.

"You're right," I said to her, because she deserved to hear it.

"And, I am sorry. Tell you what: I'll talk this over with a couple people, to get a firmer idea of exactly what is going to be entailed. Then I'm going to drop by the residence and we can have a dinner, talk this out, and I can put everything out in the open. Even with the anti-eavesdropping measures I've taken here, this is no place to talk about this." Bruce glanced around.

"Measures? Are you the reason that the sound got so weird?" He shook his head.

"Of course you are. Sorry, my fault for asking. But, you do seem to have us quite well muted. What's the worry?"

"I've almost been arrested before based on someone's lip-reading," I told him, letting my flat unamused voice tell a story.

"I'll not forget soon that lip-reading is a thing. It's not the season for hand-fans so the best answer is just to not say things we don't want known." He looked startled.

"Ah. Um, arrested? When?"

"Four-ish months?... Something like that. The last time I fought a lich in the middle of a city." Bruce looked at Petty. She gave a look back. I was annoyed by being on the outside of a look even among my own family. Bruce glanced back to me.

"Very well. We'll have you for a nice dinner and debrief. And we'll see how many of your escapades and strategies we can work out in a single dinner, and then see about scheduling after that."

"Ouch. Fair," I conceded.

"All right, we have an accord. Now then, let's muster our rabble and make it through Fashion Week." Almost everyone in our group was older than me. There were just a couple of minor players that were fresh off their debut and already looking very intimidated, the rest were all more experienced or at least older. I found that the reaction from most of them was polite enough and friendly, but for months there had been just a bit of reluctance to them accepting me as the acting head of the House.

They had gotten used to the idea that the Duke and Duchess were at a comfortable distance and that nobody was going to bring anything so crass as oversight into their affairs. The nieces and nephew had been mostly ineffectual at wrangling the family under a banner, and Sisa had mostly conveyed business orders and left the rest, so Meadowtam had been a non-entity on the political field for quite a while.

I don't think most of the older relations would have been inclined to give me any serious consideration otherwise. I might have been indulgently humored, at best. But over the past year I had snapped this family from a disorganized muddle of aristocrats with no guiding agenda, and forged a force out of them. Harigold was a sleeping giant awakened, and the rest of the political landscape was bending to make room for us. That reluctance was gone now.

They had watched as our interests have been pushed further and further to the forefront, as our name gathers more and more respect. At parties where Harigold used to be seated at the low tables, now we are at the right hand. At events we had been also-ran, we were now guests of honor. And you don't hear anyone sneering about the provinces like they used to. With gestures, I waved knots of red-haired relatives to my presence, greeting them with warmth and strength.

They had a certain resolve, they liked being on the winning team. Funding, recognition, influence, respect- more than they had seen in many years. I could be proud of that. And I tried not to harbor any suspicions that they would jump ship if Nathan showed any interest in politics. That's just my paranoia. I just wish I knew whether it would happen or not. His options were to join the faction loyal to the royals, or to stay out of the conflict altogether. And that was going to make a huge difference to me.

Worried about having him as an enemy, or worried about having him as a helpful bystander. Gods, I could just shove him into a portal and drop him off on the far side of the planet. Tempted, I am sorely tempted. But with my luck?

He'd spend the next four years killing his way through every monster in the endless wilderness, level up a hundred times, and make his dramatic entrance in the very last arc of Act 5 like a proper anime hero, take over the kingdom, steal all my thunder, fuck up all my plans, condemn us all to a bad ending and the end of the world with a dazzling hero smile on his smug hero face. That is exactly the kind of shit he'd pull, just to screw me over. It's tough having a bad relationship with your siblings.

Can't live with 'em, can't kill 'em without being the obvious first suspect. And somehow every other option is even worse. All I can do now is get better. Smarter than him, stronger, faster. Trying harder, staying ahead. If I can beat him, and keep beating him, we might just all make it out of here alive.