A lady with travel needs

Gordon had meant to help Vera learn to socialize.

At least he would take her somewhere lively, where she could learn what small talk and casual conversation were...

Instead, they ran into Charlotte.

He slowly turned his head.

Charlotte's smile was impeccable-so impeccable that Gordon suspected he was in trouble.

She rested a hand on Gordon's shoulder, lightly, as though greeting an ordinary friend. But she showed no intention of taking it away.

"Gordon, did I come at a bad time?" Charlotte asked with a smile.

"No, perfect timing, wonderful, a reunion after so long," Gordon said rapidly. "You've met before. Miss Charlotte Montfort, Miss Vera Cateret."

"I must thank you again for your contribution during the incident at the Montfort Ancestral Home," Charlotte said politely.

"..." Vera thought for a moment, searching for the right words. "You're welcome."

Charlotte pulled out a chair and sat beside Gordon, her movements so natural that she seemed born to occupy that seat.

Across the table, Vera held her knife and fork in reverse grips.

Both women looked at him at once, as though he were tonight's main course.

"-I've run into a bit of trouble lately," Gordon said, changing the subject.

"Anything dangerous?" Charlotte asked curiously.

"Yes," Vera said. "Possibly cultists. A follow-up to the ancestral home incident."

Charlotte looked Gordon over from head to toe, as though checking whether any pieces were missing.

"So," Charlotte said, "I'm the last to know."

"I was going to tell you tomorrow," Gordon said.

"Ah, just like my father. Whenever a man gets caught hiding something, the first thing he says is always, 'Actually, I was just about to tell you, but...'" Charlotte said.

Not good. Gordon's heart sank.

Apparently, everyone used the same stock responses, leaving those who came after them nowhere to turn.

"You should tell her," Vera said. "You can tell her. She cares about you."

Charlotte demurely turned her gaze aside, paused, then looked back at Vera.

This time, though, the initial aggression had vanished from her eyes, replaced by genuine interest.

"If it's to protect Gordon..." Charlotte propped an elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand. "Then I suppose I can accept it. Just let me know first next time."

"Does he owe you money?" Vera asked Charlotte.

"Not anymore," Gordon said.

"It isn't money he owes me," Charlotte said.

"?" Vera pondered this deeply, but could find no answer.

Charlotte quickly took stock of Vera.

"If you ask me, if you're going to keep coming to the university," Charlotte said, "you need a coat that doesn't draw attention."

Vera glanced at her hunter's outfit. These clothes had blocked claws, been drenched in rain, and been splashed with blood. Every scar on them came with a story that could take two days to tell.

"I need to be careful with money," Vera said.

"But if you want to protect your employer," Charlotte said, "you'll need to follow him into libraries and lecture halls. You'll also need to keep a low profile, rather than have everyone staring at you."

"That requires more than clothes. It requires etiquette, too," Vera said.

"Tonight, let's start with clothes. Leave it to me." Smiling, Charlotte reached across the table and very naturally laid her hand over Vera's. "Any requirements?"

"Lots of pockets you can't see from the outside. Hard-wearing fabric. Overall, it needs to be practical, something I can run in," Vera said.

She glanced at Charlotte's black lace gloves. Those were clearly impractical. How could anyone climb a tree wearing them?

"Let's go, Gordon," Charlotte said softly to him. "If she's going to be entering our social circle 'regularly,' I can't have her looking out of place."

"Our social circle?" Gordon repeated.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Charlotte folded her arms.

"I'm learning how not to." Gordon glanced at the darkening sky outside. "Now?"

"All it takes is knowing someone, a shop assistant willing to work late, and a little money." Charlotte left the table. "Or perhaps money alone will do."

"Let's go." Vera stood immediately.

Gordon followed behind, with Miss Charlotte in her lace gloves on one side and Vera, accustomed to gripping weapons, on the other. Both had independently stepped into his life.

He had a feeling Vera might not be the only person in need of social training.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived in the market district, Lundenim's financial and commercial heart. Norwich Street was lined with tailors, jewelers, and high-end services.

Charlotte led Vera into a ready-to-wear shop called Pembroke House with practiced ease.

Its dark green sign gleamed with fresh paint. The window displayed women's traveling coats, a widow's black dress, a governess's suit, and a peacock-green shawl suitable for a theater actress.

Charlotte exchanged a few words with the saleswoman, and Vera ceased to be someone who would be asked to leave. She became a "lady with travel needs and a preference for practical tailoring."

Vera clearly hadn't taken a proper look in a mirror for a long time.

She took a moment to recognize herself, then tried on various cloaks, coats, and tops.

Charlotte grew more interested with every outfit, while Gordon sat on a cushioned chair, his mind wandering far away.

As the selection process grew more involved, Charlotte took Vera into the fitting room.

Fabric rustled, buttons clicked, and the saleswoman's suggestions, Vera's muttering, and Charlotte's "Good heavens, how do you not even have one of these..." rose and fell behind the curtain.

Only after quite some time did Charlotte bring Vera back out.

"Well?" Charlotte asked Gordon.

Gordon froze for a moment.

Vera had now been transformed from head to toe.

She wore a black coat with a cut somewhere between a riding outfit and an officer's undress uniform. Beneath it was a dark burgundy waistcoat over a fitted white shirt. Trousers and polished black boots completed the outfit, and there was still room to hide a knife in the boot shaft.

Even her black thrusting sword had acquired a temporary leather sheath, its edges embroidered with fine silver thread, the old hilt protruding from the new leather.

The outfit hadn't turned her into some noble young lady. A blade was still a blade, but she no longer looked like a weapon picked up off the street. She could enter the university or the first-class carriages of a train without anyone objecting.

Then Gordon discovered something even more devastating...

The collar of her previous outfit had been pulled up high, covering her to the tip of her nose. Gordon had only been able to see her beautiful eyes.

With this new outfit, Vera no longer hid the lower half of her face behind a high collar.

Now that he could see her entire face, she was even prettier than he had imagined. Her features were so balanced and well-defined, her nose cleanly sculpted, her pale lips pressed tightly together. On this face, those eyes suddenly made astonishing sense.

Vera herself clearly wasn't used to it: clean, fitted, warm, free of bloodstains, and possibly even free of charge.

"How much?" she asked instinctively.

"It's a gift," Charlotte said sweetly.

Vera plainly distrusted anything free. She looked at Gordon. Gordon gave her a meaningful look, trying to convey: It's fine. Take it for now.

Whether Vera understood was another matter.

Charlotte narrowed her eyes and turned to Gordon.

"Does she look pretty?" she asked softly.

Gordon immediately went into survival mode.

"These clothes are very practical," Gordon said solemnly.

"I asked-does she look pretty?" Charlotte said.

"Yes," Gordon said quickly. "Because you picked them."

"Good," Charlotte said. "Do you know why I went out of my way to choose them for her?"

"Why?"

"So that whenever you look at her, you'll think of me," Charlotte said.

Gordon opened his mouth, but every possible phrase was cut off before reaching his tongue. Excuses, flattery, changes of subject-all had lost their power.

Charlotte discovered that, for the first time, she had managed to leave Gordon speechless.

Which meant Charlotte had won.

"Mm-hmm~ I'm heading back now. I can't get home too late." She turned away, gathered up her skirts, and left in high spirits, as excited as though she had won a duel no one had witnessed.

Vera hadn't fully understood all the subtleties.

She simply inspected her cuffs carefully, transferred her injections, supplies, and dagger from her old clothes to her new ones, then left the old clothes, so full of stories, at the shop to collect when she had time.

"Where next?" she asked.

"...Let's see if we can find anyone who wants to kill me." Gordon took the Living Water Compass from inside his coat. "It's seemed to be trembling ever since we left the university."

Holding the Living Water Compass, Gordon followed its guidance through the Lundenim night.

In its unstable state, it spun in circles as though drunk, its needle pointing now at a drain, now at a closed seafood shop.

"There are more fish cultists at night," Vera said warily. "Someone's watching us."

"Then if I go somewhere fish fear most, do you think it'll protect us?" Gordon spotted a branch of the Fried Fish Brothers chain.

Everyone in Lundenim knew the Fried Fish Brothers brand.

The sign depicted two anthropomorphic fish with their arms around each other's shoulders, one wearing a bowler hat, the other holding up a fork.

"I don't know," Vera said, "but I think we'll eat well."

As the door swung open, the aroma of fried fish washed over them. The two had barely entered when a man in a hat followed them inside.

The walls were covered in all manner of posters: the Fried Fish Brothers piloting a steamship through the waves, the Fried Fish Brothers sweeping to victory at the races, the Fried Fish Brothers handing out chips to children, the Fried Fish Brothers being inspected by the emperor...

Every poster bore the same slogan underneath:

"No one knows fish better than we do."

Almost every seat in the shop was occupied. Deep in the kitchen, oil churned in the fryers, coating fish in crisp golden armor.

A waiter bustled between the tables and gave them a knowing glance: a university student and a young noblewoman, apparently replenishing their energy before getting down to business.