At Visteroa Beria Cloth Shop
After all the running around, laughter, and piles of fabric, they finally came to a stop at the signboard of Visteroa Beria Cloth Shop.
Elias tilted his head at the name, lips curving slightly. "Visteroa Beria… hmm. Wants a name, doesn't it?"
"Yes!" the children chorused instantly.
"I've got better naming sense," Elen said proudly, folding his arms like a little lord.
"Nah, you don't," Leya and Lucien said in unison, giving him a perfect side-eye.
Elen's mouth dropped. "I do! Better than both of you!"
Leya smirked. "Oh really? Your last 'brilliant' name for Alan's toy horse was Stonehoof. He doesn't even stomp properly."
Lucien added with mock seriousness, "And you called the kitten Gray One. Such creativity."
Elen's cheeks flushed. "Names should be simple and practical!"
"Boring," Leya sang, sticking her tongue out.
"Ugly," Lucien added, grinning.
Elen turned to Elias for backup, eyes wide. "Tell them! I'm not that bad at names!"
Elias lifted a brow, fighting the urge to laugh. "Hmm… Stonehoof, Gray One… yes, Elen, I see a clear pattern."
Elen straightened proudly. "See?"
"…A pattern of terrible names," Elias finished calmly.
The shopkeeper burst into laughter from behind the counter, and even Alan, usually quiet, covered his mouth, shoulders shaking.
Elen groaned, tugging his hood over his head. "You're all against me."
Elias crouched down, gently tugging the hood back. "Not against you. Just honest." His lips curved faintly. "Next time, I'll let you redeem yourself."
Elen's sulky frown softened a little, and the children's bickering turned into laughter again as they stepped inside the shop.
---
Inside the Clothing Shop
The tailor's shop smelled of fresh fabric and lavender oil, bolts of silk and wool stacked neatly on polished wooden shelves. Elias had barely stepped inside when the children fanned out like generals preparing for war.
"White! He looks the best in white!" Leya declared, tugging at a tunic embroidered with silver threads.
"No, dark colors suit him better," Elen countered, holding up a navy cloak. "He looks too delicate in pale ones."
"That's the point!" Leya stamped her foot.
Lucien rolled his eyes. "Hopeless. He needs something he can actually move in." He yanked a loose white shirt from the rack.
Elias sighed, arms crossed. "You do realize I'm standing right here?"
"Shhh." Lucien draped a crimson robe over his shoulders like a priest in ceremony. "You just wear what we pick. Think of it as punishment for ignoring clothes last time."
The tailor, an older man with a twinkle in his eye, chuckled. "Quite the entourage, my lord. Normally I dress nobles and soldiers. But this—this is far more entertaining."
---
The first attempt was a pale tunic with flowing sleeves. When Elias stepped out, Leya clapped as if fireworks had gone off. "See! He looks like an angel!"
The shop assistants blushed. One whispered, "He doesn't look real…" Another muttered, "I'd marry him on the spot."
Elias tugged at the collar, faintly red. "It's… itchy."
"See?" Elen smirked. "Told you. Practicality matters."
Next came Elen's choice: the navy cloak embroidered with gold. Regal, sharp, commanding.
"Perfect," Elen said with quiet satisfaction.
Leya wrinkled her nose. "He looks like he's about to hand out orders, not play with us."
Lucien shoved his set into Elias's arms—midnight trousers and a loose white shirt.
When Elias emerged, sleeves rolled, collar loose, the room stilled. Even the tailor blinked.
The three children stared, then all at once:
"…That one."
"Finally," Elias muttered under his breath.
---
Near the corner of Shop:-
Nearby youths whispered, stealing glances. One laughed nervously. "I swear I'm straight as a ruler—"
"—but I'd bend for him," his friend finished. Both snickered.
Elias froze, ears red, while Lucien grinned wickedly. "See? Even strangers agree. Dangerous."
The tailor bowed. "My lord, Shall I wrap everything?"
"Yes!" the children chorused before Elias could answer.
---
The Children's Turn
"Now, Now, Enough about me," Elias said firmly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "Now it's your turn. Pick something for yourselves."
The three froze, caught off guard.
"For us?" Leya asked carefully.
"Yes. You didn't think I dragged you here just to play dress-up with me, did you?"
At first they hesitated, drifting toward the racks with guarded steps. Leya lingered over a lavender dress with embroidered hems, her fingers brushing the fabric but pulling away. Elen eyed a sharp jacket with neat lines, then muttered, "Too expensive."
Lucien touched a travel cloak dyed in forest green, then dropped it quickly as though burned.
Elias's voice cut through their hesitations. Calm, but leaving no room for argument: "Choose freely. Don't look at the price, you didn't look at it while choosing mine...hmmm??"
Leya turned, lips parting. "But—"
"Do I look like someone who counts coins when it comes to you?" Elias finally asked.
That silenced them.
And then, as if a dam had cracked, they moved.
Leya twirled in front of the mirror with the lavender dress, smiling so wide her cheeks hurt. Lucien tried on the jacket, adjusting the sleeves like a miniature noble. Elen swaggered in the green cloak, dramatically flipping the hood up and grinning like a thief from a storybook.
"Look at this!" Leya cried, spinning.
"Not bad," Lucien muttered, though his proud smirk betrayed him.
"Ha! I look like a hero," Elen announced, drawing an imaginary sword.
Elias stood back, arms crossed, quietly watching as the shop assistants fussed to measure and adjust. The children's chatter filled the shop, warm and bright.
When the tailor brought out more options—festival wear, travel outfits, even finer occasion clothes—Elias bought them all. The pile on the counter grew into a mountain.
Lucien raised an eyebrow at him, half-amused. "You didn't show this much enthusiasm when buying for yourself."
Elias shrugged. "Clothes are just cloth on me. But on you—" He stopped, then added quietly, "On you, they look like life."
The words hung there for a moment, soft and startling. Leya blinked at him, her throat tight, and Elen looked away quickly as if embarrassed. Lucien grinned, but it wavered at the edges.
---
Evening:-