Ambra's eyes fluttered open to the morning light seeping through the heavy curtains. Beside her, Lune was already up, stretching and yawning. The contrast between Ambra's silver hair and Lune's midnight locks was stark, even in the muted morning glow.

"Morning, Lune."

"Good morning, Ambra. Sleep well?"

"Like a log. You?"

"As peacefully as one can next to a log," Lune grinned.

Ambra chuckled, tossing back her silver mane before reaching for her worn cloak. As she clasped it with a silver half-moon fastener, she paused. The cloak's fabric was frayed, losing the richness it once had.

Lune eyed her carefully. "You're fond of that cloak, aren't you? But it's starting to look... well, rather worn."

Ambra looked down at the small, silver, half-moon-shaped fastener that held the cloak together. A brief flash of memory overtook her: the stone walls of the fortress she'd briefly lived in, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the long halls, and Ollie's wagging tail as he followed her around.

With a gentle smile, she let them go. "You're right. Time for something new—something that doesn't make me look like a suspect in every crime committed within a ten-mile radius."

Lune chuckled, "Well, if I didn't know better, your cloak would make you seem like you're up to no good."

Together, the two girls finished dressing. Lune looked resplendent and functional, while Ambra, even in her worn cloak, had an air of quiet dignity.

"Shall we?" Lune gestured towards the door.

"We shall," Ambra agreed, following her friend out of the room.

They entered the dining hall, expecting to find it buzzing with the Aegis and Lady Camila already bickering about. Instead, they found Laura, her hair tousled and eyes red-rimmed, sitting alone at the table with a pastry and a book.

"Good morning, Laura!" Ambra exclaimed, obviously surprised. "Never thought we'd see the day you'd be the early bird."

Laura looked up with a smug grin. "Who said anything about being early? I haven't been to bed yet."

Ambra paused, her eyes opening and closing in incredulity, then looked at her. "Eh?"

"It is what it is." Laura shrugged her shoulders with a smirk. "Sleep is for the weak."

and concerned. "Laura, you should really get some sleep."

Laura shrugged, "Sleep is for those who have no books to read, and I've got far too many."

Lune rolled her eyes but wore an expression that bordered on boredom. "Laura, you have a unique way of glorifying bad habits."

Laura chuckled, "It's a gift."

"So, what's everyone else up to?" Lune asked, changing the subject.

"Errands or preparations before the Baroness arrives or who knows. They said they'd be back soon," Laura replied, a yawn sneaking through her words.

Both Ambra and Lune nodded, choosing not to press any further. If it were urgent, they'd have been told. Besides, Ambra had already been cleared to leave today, thanks to everyone's support yesterday night.

"So, what brings you two here this fine morning?" Laura set her book aside.

"A new cloak," Ambra announced.

Laura perked up, her eyes shining momentarily with enthusiasm, chasing away the shadows of her fatigue. "Shopping? Count me in!"

Lune rolled her eyes, a wry smile creeping onto her face. "You do remember that only Ambra has clearance to leave the state today, right?"

Caught, Laura chuckled awkwardly. "I was joking, of course." She muttered a subdued "Bummer," as she returned to her book, flipping the page with a little less enthusiasm than before.

Ambra glanced at Laura, a sympathetic look on her face. "Well, maybe next time, you can come along. And perhaps you could get some sleep afterward," she added, her tone wavering between sincerity and jest.

Laura grinned, "We'll see about that."

Shaking her head, Lune leaned back in her chair as she began grabbing a small fruit for herself, amused yet exasperated as she watched Laura continue to munch on her pastry. "Some people."

Ambra chuckled, the sound echoing softly in the nearly empty hall. "Well, I better get going. See you both later."

"Hold on," Lune interrupted, "Do you have enough money?"

"I've got a few coins," Ambra responded, patting her pouch.

Lune reached into her own pouch and pulled out a small handful of shimmering gold and silver coins. "Here, take these. Buy yourself something nice," she said, pressing the coins into Ambra's palm.

Ambra looked at the coins, then up at Lune, her silver eyes glowing with gratitude. "Thank you, Lune."

Laura, peering over the top of her book, watched the exchange with a cheeky grin. "Happy shopping, Ambra!"

With a wave, Ambra took her leave, exiting the Duke's mansion, her worn cloak billowing behind her. As the door closed, Lune and Laura exchanged glances.

"Do you think she'll actually buy a cloak that makes her look less suspicious?" Laura asked.

Lune chuckled, "Knowing Ambra, she'll probably come back with something even more shady."

Laura nodded, smiling. "Yeah, knowing her she likely will."

------

Ambra strolled through the noble and luxurious district of Leviel, her worn dark cloak contrasting rather sharply with the lavishness that surrounded her. Marble columns adorned with intricate carvings, lush gardens that seemed almost artificially perfect, and nobles decked out in silks and jewels filled her line of sight.

People veered away from her as she walked, their eyes darting with suspicion or discomfort. Nobles drew their children closer as if her very presence would give them some illness.

She couldn't help but notice a certain stiffness in the air, but it no longer stung as it used to. She was almost... accustomed to it. As sad as that was.

"Eh, it's fine," Ambra thought, her shoulders slightly shrugged. "I'm practically a local landmark at this point"

But just as she was chuckling to herself, a well-dressed lady loudly warned her daughter, "Sylvia, do not approach that person; she's suspicious!" Her nose wrinkled like she'd just smelled something foul.

Ambra sighed internally, feeling the old wound open just a crack. "Never mind, still hurts a little," she mused silently, eyes falling to her cloak once more. "I'm definitely getting a new cloak."

As she transitioned from the grandeur of Leviel's noble district to its outskirts, the atmosphere shifted palpably. Buildings became less imposing, gardens more natural, and faces—well, they were still cautious, but less overtly judgmental. This was the Leviel Ambra was more accustomed to, where people minded their own business and lived their lives without the weight of titles or ancestry hanging over them.

Finally, she reached the marketplace. It was a bustling haven of activity—traders haggling, vendors shouting, and locals rummaging through a myriad of goods. Fabrics of every color and texture, baskets of fruits and spices, and an assortment of magical artifacts filled the stalls.

Her eyes scanned the area, finally landing on a stall with an array of cloaks hanging from wooden racks. The vendor, an older gentleman with a warm smile, beckoned her over.

Ambra made her way over. The vendor, a jovial old man who looked like he had a story for every item he sold, greeted her warmly.

"Ah, young miss! You look like you could use a new cloak, or am I mistaken?"

Ambra grinned. "You have no idea how right you are," she said, looking over the pieces on display.

Ambra's eyes narrowed as she flicked through the row of cloaks on display. Most of them seemed like they were designed to make a statement—just not the one she wanted to make. Too loud, too frilly, too...not her.

"Do you have anything that could suit an adventurer? But also something that wouldn't look out of place at a royal gala?" she inquired, trying not to sound too disappointed.

The vendor chuckled, scratching his stubbly chin. "Ah, a cloak to blend in with both the kings and the adventurous, you say? That's a tall order. You know, cloaks aren't usually what people wear to appear 'less suspicious,' especially if you keep that hood up at fancy parties, like you're doing now."

"Yeah," Ambra sighed, "I've learned that the hard way."

The vendor groaned reluctantly before squatting down and pulling out a well-secured chest from under the table. With a sense of a regal ceremony, he unlocked it and lifted out a magnificent cloak, the colors of which seemed to dance between wine red, white, and gold. Intricate gold patterns weaved their way through the fabric like rivers of light.

"There's this beauty in my catalog," he said, holding it up to the light.

Ambra's eyes widened; she was spellbound by its elegance and complex craftsmanship. "It's gorgeous. What's it made of?"

The vendor puffed out his chest proudly. "Primarily hippogriff feathers and talons, woven with my great skill. It also has threads spun from rare conductive materials harvested from undead creatures. This cloak is not just for show."

To prove his point, he pulled a knife from his belt and stabbed it in the fabric. The blade met the cloth and stopped, not even leaving a scratch. However, even after his proud display, conflict still danced in the old man's eyes.

Ambra's eyes widened even further, impressed. "That's... actually incredible." Ambra's fingers gingerly touched the luxurious fabric of the cloak, reluctant to let go. "So, what's the damage? How much is it?"

The vendor looked visibly torn. "Well, it's a masterpiece, if I do say so myself. Crafted it with my own hands. But... it won't come cheap. I'm sorry for that."

Ambra tilted her head. "Is that due to the cost of materials?"

The vendor sighed, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "You've got it. Dungeon materials have become scarce, you see. The Baroness has taken control of the supply, monopolized it. Driven the prices sky-high. A lot of us craftsmen can't afford to work with quality materials anymore."

Ambra's eyes narrowed, intrigued. "Really? The Baroness?"

The vendor nodded, exasperated. "Yes. She's made it incredibly difficult for artisans like me. I splurged on these materials to craft something truly exceptional. But now, selling it for any price feels like letting go of a piece of my soul at a loss." He slapped his forehead lightly with a palm. "What was I thinking?"

Ambra sympathized with the craftsman but remained focused. "So, what's the price tag?"

"Ah, well," the vendor hesitated, locking eyes with Ambra before finally murmuring, "One hundred and fifty gold coins."

Ambra drew in a quick breath, feeling the weight of the pouch at her side. The coins Lune had given her were a welcome addition, but it would still be a significant investment. Yet, as she stood there, considering the craftsmanship, the functionality, and her own recent experiences, it became more and more difficult to see the cloak as anything but necessary.

"I'll take it," she said finally, offering the vendor a warm smile. "It's a beautiful piece, and it's clear how much work you've put into it. It should be worn, not collect dust in a chest."

The vendor's eyes brightened; his pride in his work evidently battling his regret over parting with it. "I think it will serve you well, miss. And maybe give you a fighting chance in the court of public opinion."

Ambra chuckled as she handed over the gold coins. "That would be an added bonus."

As she wrapped herself in the new cloak, relishing its perfect fit and solid feel, she couldn't help but consider the vendor's words about the Baroness.

"Thank you," she told the vendor, "not just for the cloak, but for the information."

As Ambra continued staring into the luxurious fabric of her new cloak, she couldn't help but glance at her old, worn one. The sense of nostalgia washed over her. She had spent a good few days of happiness in that old cloak, along with memories of Ollie, the tail-wagging companion from the fortress she once called home.

The shopkeeper caught her lingering gaze. "Something on your mind, miss?"

"It's silly, really," Ambra began, fidgeting with the silver half-moon fastener of her old cloak. "I guess you could say it holds sentimental value. I wish I could keep a part of it with me, something to remember someone I lost."

A thoughtful expression crossed the vendor's face. "Ah, sentimental value, the most precious of all currencies. I have an idea. Why don't you try on one of those other cloaks?" He gestured to a rack beside him. "Hand over your old one for a moment."

Curiosity piqued, Ambra obliged. She chose another cloak from the rack, cautious to keep her silver hair hidden under her current hood. With a bit of awkward maneuvering—like a bizarre cloak-changing dance—she managed to swap her old one without revealing her face.

The vendor's eyes twinkled with anticipation. He spread both the old and the new cloak on the nearby table and took out his crafting tools. Ambra heard the heart-wrenching rip of fabric, but before she could react, the shopkeeper was already working his magic—stitching, cutting, attaching.

With a final snip of his thread, he held up her newly purchased cloak, now adorned with the familiar silver half-moon fastener from her old one. "There we go. A piece of the old, and all of the new."

A heartfelt smile spread across Ambra's face as she accepted her transformed cloak. "This is... amazing. Do I owe you anything extra for this?"

The shopkeeper waved his hand dismissively. "Ah, no, no. You've already made this an unforgettable day for me. Finally, selling that cloak instead of going bankrupt? That's reward enough."

He glanced at the extra cloak Ambra was still wearing. "You can keep that one too, if you'd like. To change into your new one comfortably and privately, since I kinda ripped your old one apart, sorry about that."

"No worries," Ambra laughed feeling a swell of gratitude. "Thank you, truly. You've made parting with something sentimental far easier."

"That’s the magic of a good craftsman." The vendor nodded, counting the gold coins with a mixture of satisfaction and lingering wistfulness. "Be safe out there. And give 'em hell, adventurer."

Ambra grinned, grabbing dearly the silver half-moon fastener of her new cloak. "I intend to."

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