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Kern was pleased to see her, and for once it had nothing to do with familial love. It was due to the fact she needed a new set of clothes. In fact, she needed 280 new sets of clothes.

“That’s actually somewhat of a small order,” he was explaining. “Most of our military orders are around a thousand or more uniforms. But that’s the advantage of artillery, I suppose. You may be spending far more on individual weapons than an infantry battalion, but you are dealing with far smaller numbers of soldiers you have to uniform. This actually works in your benefit. There are a number of fabrics I can use on an order of this size that I simply wouldn’t have enough of for a battalion.”

Bravye nodded. She was seated in a very comfortable chair in the office of Kern’s factory with a glass of tea that had been spiked with a little extra something. A warm batch of sunlight was shining through the window beside her bringing a cheery appearance to the room as well as warming the place nicely. “So, would those fabrics cost me more, then?”

“Less than you might think. It depends on the specific fabric you are talking about, of course, but the need for uniformity within those large units actually means there is less demand for these cloths than you might expect. Demands for basic wools and canvases have climbed considerably while these other clothes have remained surprisingly steady.”

“That makes sense. We’ve seen similar things with a few specialty steels at the foundry.”

“So you understand, good.” Kern leaned back in his own chair, weaving his fingers together behind his head. “So let’s start with some basics. What did you have in mind for the uniform. Just the basics, mind you. We can work out the details later.”

Bravye thought back to the research she’d been conducting into all things military in between rounds of recruiting and ordering. “I’ve noticed there are certain common themes involving uniforms, but that there seems to be surprisingly few hard and fast rules about it.”

“That’s true. Because nearly all of our units are made up of privately raised volunteers the general staff requires very few things. In fact, they tend to encourage units to create their own particular look in order to instill a little bit of pride in the unit.”

“So basically we need to ensure that the uniform displays the clan colors and includes practical hats, jackets, and footwear. Is there anything else?”

Kern smiled. “That’s most of it. There are certain conventions that are observed, but they have never actually been enforced. Some of the more decorative elements of a uniform tend to be color coded according to the specific type of unit a soldier serves in. Blue trim usually indicates infantry, yellow for cavalry, and red for the artillery.”

Bravye thought a moment. “Alright. The typical uniform includes an undershirt, vest, jacket, and overcoat. Kilt, winter leggings, summer stockings, and winter stockings. A hat, and shoes, am I right?”

“There are also belts, suspenders, and in some cases gloves.”

“What about… personal garments?”

Kerns shrugged. “We can include bloomers in the order, if you wish.”

“I assure you, we will need them.” Bravye gave a wry smile.

“I believe you.” Kern thought a moment. “Most of it will be fairly similar to what we provide for regular soldiers, but the vests will be an odd fit.”

Bravye gave Kern a little taste of the evil eye. “My soldiers will be regular soldiers too.”

“Ah,” Kern looked uncomfortable. “Of course. My apologies, sister.”

“Better.” Bravye thought a moment. “Is there any requirement that vests be worn?”

“Well, no. It’s just expected.”

“Vests will be a problem for more reasons than merely being cut right. We have certain needs that men do not. Perhaps a good, fitted corset is in order.”

“Hmm…” Kern nodded. “Ordinarily the vest would be visible, as it is worn over the shirt. A corset would be underneath, I should think.

“Unless we made a boned or ribbed vest-like garment. It could go on the outside like a vest, but still support like a corset.”

Kern pursed his lips. “I imagine we could do that. I’ll have to consult a good seamstress. It will be a bit unorthodox though. It might raise a few eyebrows.”

“Let them rise. My women will be soldiers, but that won’t change the fact they are women. They will need the support.” Bravye smiled. “Who knows? It might even start a new fashion trend.”

“Outerwear that serves as underwear? I have my doubts, but who knows?”

“So, given that, here is my thought. The clan color is grey, with a white and grey tartan as the preferred presentation.” Bravye sat back and closed her eyes, picturing what she was describing to Kern. “We’ll have the skirt in the tartan, and have the winter coat, winter leggings, and the jacket be a solid grey. The vest corset we’ll color red. You did say that was the artillery color?”

Kern nodded as he wrote her instructions on paper.

“The undershirt and bloomers we’ll keep a basic cream color. There’s no need to get fancy with garments that ought not be seen. And let’s top it all off with a black tricorn for headgear.” She licked her lips as details began to fill in the image in her imagination. “Let’s see about having large black or red plumes added to the hats. I’ve seen a few soldiers with similar decorations.”

“Like a fighting cockerel,” Kern agreed. “I think it will add a little feminine touch to things while being exactly in line with some of the infantry hats I’ve had ordered.”

“Just the thing,” Bravye nodded. “Also, let’s add a high necked, stiff collar to the vests. For the regular soldiers we’ll have the collar in grey. Sergeants will get silver, and the officers can have gold.”

“The silver and gold will add a bit to the expense.”

“That’s fine. There won’t be all that many of them.”

Kern nodded and made a note. “What about the materials?”

“Standard wool for the coats and skirts. Quality linen for the undergarments. And let’s splurge just a touch on the vest corsets. What might you recommend?”

“Well, in for a penny in for a pound, I think. If we’re going to be completely turning things upside down in terms of vests and corsets, let’s get audacious. Brocade will be expensive, but I assure you, the effect will be both feminine and bold.”

Bravye thought a moment. “I like it. But if we’re getting audacious let’s change the jacket a bit. Instead of a standard coat, let’s make it a bolero style, open in the front and without buttons. If the weather becomes such that a closed jacket would be preferred we can break out the winter coats.”

Kern scratched some more notes. “This sounds a bit daring.”

“The whole venture is daring. Let’s revel in it.”

“Very well,” Kern made a few last jots then set the pen down beside the inkwell. “Since you are here, would you like a tour of the factory? I can show you some of the work that will need to be done to prepare your uniforms.”

Bravye stood. “I’d be delighted. I don’t think I’ve been here since the last time you expanded.”

Kern rose and hold the door for her. “This way, then.”

The office building was separated from the factory itself by a courtyard, and considerably larger. A single smokestack belched black smoke into the sky. Long rows of windows lined the upper portions of thick brick walls. Though larger than when last she had seen it, it otherwise was a familiar site from her youth, when the factory had belonged to her father.

The guards in front of the factory doors were a bit of a change, however. They wore military uniforms and carried rifles at the ready.

“Soldiers?” she asked.

“From the Invalid Brigade,” Kern responded. “They’ve suffered injuries or illnesses to severe to allow them to return to the field, but they retain enough strength to free healthy men from duties like this so they can fight.”

“But why are they here?”

Kern smiled to one of the guards as they reached the door. The man opened the door. “Thank you, Goldar.”

The two stepped inside the busy, crowded factory. Belts ran along the ceiling, driving wheels and cogs that in turn powered rows of looms. Further in she could see still other machines rolling up cloth, or cutting it. Towards the far end were sewing machines, stitching together panels into rough garments that would later be finished in another building.

All of the machines were being worked by elves.

“The guards are here for them.”

“Explain.”

“With the war on we started having difficulties finding enough workers. Weaving is far less glamorous a trade for a man than working with steel, despite being a much cleaner profession, a few brushes with dye aside. Men were choosing to go off to the war to heap glory on themselves in honorable combat.”

Kern waved a hand toward the factory. “So I made a deal with the military. They had all these prisoners rotting away. It cost money to feed them, clothe them, and house them. I agreed to pay for their needs in exchange for their labor. I even pay enough for them to earn a little for themselves.”

“But isn’t that dangerous? They are the enemy.”

“Honestly, the guards are almost unnecessary. They have a strong sense of honor. They offered their parole for a chance to be free of the camps. The food’s better here.” He shrugged. “They’ve never given me any grief.”

An elf stepped forward from among one of rows of looms.

“Well, not much grief,” Kern muttered. Then, in a louder voice, “Duchess Kimerall, how are you today?”

Bravye found her eyes widening. Duchess? A woman? She examined an absurdly tall, thin creature before her. Beneath the odd robes the figure wore she could see a distorted but still recognizable swell of breasts and the curve of far too skinny hips.

“I must object again.” The woman’s voice was oddly accented, a thing that seemed to slither around as though the more solid sounds of the southern clans was a thing to be avoided. “You continue to put our nobles to work like slaves. Our baronesses weave and our landgraves shovel coal into your furnace.”

“Well, of course. Everyone must earn their keep. It’s honest enough work.” Kern’s expression was one of frustration.

“Slaves labor, not nobles. That is the natural way of things.”

Kern frowned. “There is no slavery here, Duchess.”

Kimerall eyed the guards who were paying close attention.

“No?”

“I will not have this debate with you again, Duchess. Please return to your work.”

With a sniff of disdain, Duchess Kimerall turned back down the aisle, returning to an empty loom.

“You have women working here?”

“Most of the weaving and sewing is done by women,” Kern replied. “They insisted. We were willing to let them rest in their camp and only make the men work, but they nearly rioted. I had to let them work.”

“And yet that woman seemed unhappy about it.”

“Yes.” Kern made a frustrated sound. “First they insist on work, and then they won’t. Fortunately it’s just a few of them. Most of them are as docile as can be.”

“Why didn’t you send those few back to the camps?”

“We tried. Even the docile ones chose not to work. I had to keep them around. Getting rid of them was more trouble than keeping them. Perverse things, elves.” Kern shrugged. “Anyway, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you where we make the brocade. We ship in silk from human growers far to the south. I have no idea what plant or animal makes it, but it’s the finest material I’ve ever seen. Surprisingly strong and with a fantastic texture.”

Bravye followed Kern as he walked towards a set of looms, letting him ramble on about silk brocade. Her attention wasn’t on it, however. Instead her mind was stuck on the puzzle of an elven woman sitting at a loom.