Lynn didn't know the Undead very well. He rarely spent time alone with them, so he thought nothing of it. He only asked, a little puzzled, "Why is that little Undead girl interested in Maxwell's mage robe?
Isn't what she's wearing even fancier?"
Hill glanced over. "Mage robes are a different style, and that color and cut would suit a little girl too.
The Undead don't have robes that fit like that. Their girls' clothes are all little formal dresses."
The robes that looked sleek and alluring on grown women turned into colorful sacks or children's clothes on their smaller avatars. They weren't actually children. Of course they wouldn't like that.
But the designers William had hired didn't seem to grasp the distinction. For girls, it was princess dresses and tiered skirts of various lengths; for boys, Western-style suits.
Hill could understand why Old School Striking King was interested in the robe Edna Maxwell was wearing.
The colors of Edna's robe were distinctive. Its artful gradient looked like a streak of sunset at the horizon, clearly the work of a master. Silver Moon City truly deserved its reputation as a gathering place for artists.
Lynn was probably so used to Silver Moon City's style that he found the Undead's clothes more appealing.
Edna was startled at first. She had been hiding in the bushes and thought she had concealed herself well. She had chosen this dress precisely because it blended perfectly with the interwoven reddish-brown and deep-red branches of the Witchwood Tree.
Lately, she had worn only red robes or dresses whenever she went out.
Only Laira had ever managed to find her.
But that lady understood her situation. She probably thought Edna wanted some time alone, so she never disturbed her without warning.
Even when Laira knew where she