Chapter 46: Manners Maketh Witch.
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“Way too fancy.” I muttered.

“Agreed.” Mary replied.

We looked down at the garments spread throughout the sitting room. Despite all the disagreements between the two, or perhaps because of it, the local lord seemed well aware of what Mary deemed “acceptable” court costume. Well aware, and more than a bit disapproving. While I was excited at the thought of getting to wear something different from my practical, sturdy wool skirts and jackets, there reaches a point where its more enjoyable to watch someone else wear a fancy outfit than to wear it yourself.

If you’re familiar with the grand habit de cour, that would be just one of the wardrobe additions that the lord had purchased for us. Don’t get me wrong, despite having a hatred of taxation I have no problem with wasting tax payer dollars if the reason is funny enough. But really, actual historical court dress? Mary would look cute in it, but for me it just feels excessive.

The other gowns were slightly better, in that they weren’t full on baroque amalgamations of silk and whalebone. While I think the robe à la française look neat, to say nothing of the intricacies of the textiles used, the massive box pleats down the back are a pain. Thankfully the fancy gowns leaned more towards a weird mix of the anglaise and the bustles of the 1880’s. But anything that involves using this much French to describe is miles above what I’d prefer to wear day-to-day.

Our usual tailor really outdid herself however; the lord had commissioned these months ago behind our backs as a “just in case” measure. It was fancy to the point of gaudiness, but that’s half the point of court dress.

“Couldn’t we just have something easier to wear? Like, can I just wear a justacorps or something? That’d be kind of neat, actually.” Fancy menswear would be preferable to one of these massive spill risks. I can see it now; knocking over a table because of the massive crinoline, wine or coffee spilling all over this crystallization of months of work and materials likely worth months of a commoner’s wages. Plus it’d be impossible to wear my sword with these outfits.

“Crossdressing in court is frowned upon.” Mary said. She frowned as she spoke, the furrow in her brow raising as she came to a realization.

“Come to think of it, you were wearing trousers when you first arrived here. Is that normal in the mundane world?”

“Yup. They’re a hell of a lot easier to move around in. I did tend to be active in my past life, at least until grad school.”

“Hmmm.” She was lost in though, staring at my skirt. “You do have nice legs. With the right outfit…” She trailed back off into thought. Maybe I can make this work? I’m too accident prone to wear something so bulky and expensive, and if I can convince Mary there’s not a person I’ve met in this world who could stop her.

“You know, we could always just get me trousers and a justacorps, and come with with a believable backstory. Like how I was born the heir to a military family, and was given a male name and training in order to take over as the head of the family, and assigned as a guard to a foreign princess who married into my kingdom’s family…”

“There’s no way the court mage would believe that, he’s from your home country.”

“Fuck.”

“And there wouldn’t be enough time to commission the outfit anyways, the ship leaves tomorrow morning with the tide.” Mary with the last minute practicality. “I’m assuming my brother would hear about it if we didn’t wear these, so we’re stuck with them lest I have to put up with a massive lecture upon our return. Bear with it, please, for me? James can be immensely irritating when he puts his mind to it.” She said as the door clicked open behind us.

“What was that, dear sister?” James asked. What impressive timing.

“Nothing.” She said sweetly, in a tone that screamed “something.” James sighed, massaging his temples, and sat down in a chair.

We were in the sitting room, in the suite reserved for close guests of the lord in his mansion. He had made some assumptions, albeit accurate, about the nature of Mary and I’s relationship, as the suite was a cozy one-bedroom affair with a full bath and running water. Or maybe he just wanted to keep us away from the more public-facing parts of the estate in an effort to tamp down any panic from having the Madness witch in close proximity to the workers and public servants. It could be either/or.

“Please tell me you’ll at least make an attempt to act-” He paused, looking up as if searching for the right words hidden in the molding of the coffered ceiling. “Normal, civil, not like the weirdo who called the Second Prince a ‘half-brained douchebag.’ Just try not to embarrass our family again.”

“Someone had to let him know. I should be thanked for graciously volunteering to inform the prince about his mental deficiencies, it’ll help him adapt to them and live a much more fulfilling life. Really it’s on the royal family for not giving him a better-trained minder. To think he had the nerve to deign to speak to me at all, to say nothing of the content. I found myself shocked that he managed to string words together, and the crude suggestion he managed to say only deserved a like response.” The environment must be having some sort of effect on her speech, that or she’s just being facetious.

I can only guess at what the prince specifically said. If it’s anything like what I think it might, then maybe it’s for the best I wouldn’t be able to wear a sword with the fancy outfits we’re expected to wear. Forget calling him a douchebag, if someone acted like that to Mary in front of me they’d need to call him an ambulance. Though she can more than take care of herself. Come to think of it I don’t really need a sword for self defense, not after all the training Mary had been giving me in magic over the winter. But it’s the principle of the thing. As an American I’m used to having physical tools for self-defense even if I’ve been turned into the magical equivalent of a howitzer by coming here.

I reached out for Mary’s hand. Yes, I know, hand-holding in public, very lewd, but do I need any reason to hold her hand besides “I want to?” Besides, both of us were nervous about this trip. A bit of comforting contact could do us both some good. She rested her head on my shoulder as I sunk further into the plush couch.

After such a long respite of regular social interactions and obligations, I was dreading the thought of dealing with not just obligations, but a full-on court with a monarch and officials. Sure, I may be slightly spoiled by Mary’s reputation smoothing out any issues I might have to face. I may even be slightly spoiled by Mary. More than slightly. I’m allowed to be irritable over being dragged away from home. Things were just so comfortable there that it was easy to forget that there’s a wider world out there. And now there we were, stuck in a fancy noble’s mansion surrounded by ostentatious dresses to pack, while being lectured by a lord about the proper way to act.

But with Mary by my side putting up with the nagging tone was easy. Or maybe I was just too comfortable, as I felt myself drift off to sleep.


I hate having to get up early. It doesn’t matter how fancy a breakfast we were served if I was too groggy to enjoy it. And there wasn’t any coffee. How can I possibly be expected to, you know, function, if I don’t have any coffee​? I grumbled over my eggs Benedict.

“I felt like you got a good grasp of the basics last night, Ms. Snyder, but please don’t forget to help rein in my sister.” The lord, James, continued is previous lecture even though I had a vague awareness that a lecture over a meal was one of the things he’d object to us doing in the Capital. This was a small family breakfast, however, so I assumed it was anything goes. His wife, a pretty, svelte elf woman, I had met the other day, and Elizabeth needs no introduction. She had managed to calm down since the previous incidents.

“Of course.” I responded on autopilot. There had been so much lecturing that my brain had shut off long ago, and anything said to me in a coffee-deprived state was guaranteed to just go in one ear and out the other. I felt like I should be getting bonus points just for staying awake.

“Seriously brother, you worry too much.” Mary said. I had heard enough about her past shenanigans over the past couple days to seriously doubt that. Not that I minded. Her shenanigans are quirky and cute. There had been some level of carnage resulting, sure, but that’s just part of her charm. Am I biased? Maybe.

“Rose, I’m counting on you for this.” James repeated. “You won’t be able to stop everything, but please do your best to limit the collateral damage. One of you needs to be responsible, and thankfully you seem more than up to the job.” Where did that come from? Did Mary slip him something to make me think I can keep her out of trouble? He seemed sincere however, so I just nodded.

“I’ll do what I can.” I said as earnestly as I could muster without coffee. It likely wasn’t that convincing, the brain fog from the lack of decent caffeine was hard to cut through. Tea just didn’t cut it, and the lack of proper bean juice was starting to make me feel dizzy.

Mary’s hand on my thigh helped bring things back into focus. It was a focus on the wrong thing, but it was far better than getting lost in thoughts about coffee. I blinked a few times to try and clear away my drowsiness.

Breakfast passed without any further lecturing. The food was delicious and even the tea had a pleasant aroma. All and all it was a nice breakfast before we had to leave for the harbor.

We even rode in a carriage, a major change from walking. It was far bumpier than a car or broomstick, and while it was spacious enough for Mary and I to stretch out we chose to cuddle up on the same seat.

The bustle of the crowded merchant-lined streets soon turned to seagulls and the smell of salt. The carriage rolled to a stop, and after a short pause the carriage door opened, the coachman and a footman on either side of the doorway. The two had seemed confused at our lack of visible luggage at first, but after explaining our pouches they had seemed overjoyed at the realization they wouldn’t need to unload heavy trunks full of gowns and dresses. Mary and I, carrying all our luggage on our belts in items I was slowly realizing were rare even for a fantasy world, stepped down onto the wharf.

In front of us was the ship to the capital, a two-masted brig. Emblazoned on its side was the name Seward's Folly.

What a weird name for a ship. Especially one in a fantasy world.

 

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I put way too much thought into the name of the ship for something that has little to no effect on the plot.
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