"This outfit truly suits me."
Haku smiled at his reflection, barely recognizing the refined figure staring back from the mirror.
"Yes, the dragon swallowing the sun in gold and red really does match the indigo blue, doesn't it?" He twirled slightly, admiring the flow of the robe. "The trick is the ratio of colors. Keep the flash to the back so it doesn't overshadow the beauty of the indigo."
Tiberius puffed out his chest, clearly proud. "One of my finest works, if I may say so."
'I could pass as nobility with this,' Haku thought, running his fingers along the embroidery. 'The robe, the suit underneath, it all screams status. No wonder Alex spoke so highly of this man. He could work in a royal court.'
"Glad you like it," Tiberius said, though his voice wavered. "So... how long until you can heal my daughter?"
His eyes betrayed his worry.
"Give it time. Have her go outside more, and watch her diet. I'll come up with a cure soon. I still have a business to run, after all." Haku adjusted the robe and offered a smirk. "Don't worry, Tiberius. Elara will be fine."
He tapped his chin, glancing toward the window. "While I'm here, I should catch up on local gossip. Anything interesting going around Oakhaven these days?"
Tiberius frowned, then perked up. "Ah, yes. A noble is visiting the shop today. Wants a new coat of arms embroidered on his riding cloak."
Haku's instincts tingled, the kind of sixth sense forged by years of devouring trashy web novels. "A noble?"
"Lord Aron. Son of Duke Maris. Spoiled brat, by all accounts. His father sent Ser Kaelen, his personal knight, to keep him out of trouble."
"A spoiled noble and a stoic bodyguard? That's right out of a novel..." Haku muttered. "What about this, Kaelen? Any good?"
Tiberius scoffed. "They say he's a swordmaster. Can cut steel like it's butter. Moves faster than you can blink. Aron's a handful, but even he wouldn't cross Kaelen."
'A swordmaster? That's gotta be a high-level martial artist equivalent. This just got interesting.'
"Sounds like the perfect recipe for a dramatic afternoon," Haku said, settling on a cushioned bench. "I'll stick around for the show."
"When are they coming?"
"Midday, I reckon."
"Then pour us another round of ale. Something tells me we'll need it." Haku smirked.
'This guy drinks like a tavern ghost. How does he even make money?'Tiberius thought as he poured.
The sun climbed higher, casting long shadows through the window. Haku, resplendent in his robe, lounged near a rack of silk bolts, carefully positioning himself to observe the entrance. Tiberius busied himself, wiping invisible dust, adjusting perfect displays, and fidgeting with hanging tapestries for the tenth time.
Hoofbeats echoed outside.
"They're here," Tiberius whispered, his voice dry.
The door burst open.
A young man entered with a sneer plastered across his face. Lord Aron. His boots clicked on the floor, his garments loud and overdesigned. Right behind him came a man who made Haku sit upright.
Ser Kaelen.
The knight was a storm wrapped in calm. Gleaming armor, sharp eyes, and a gaze like a panther in steel. He carried the air of a man who had killed and would again, without breaking stride.
'Dangerous,' Haku thought instantly.
Aron barely glanced around before sneering. "This is the tailor shop? Smells like peasants."
Tiberius bowed low. "An honor to have you, Lord Aron."
"Humble little place," Aron grunted. "I want a cloak. Dark blue. Family crest on the back. Don't take all day."
As Tiberius scrambled, Kaelen's eyes flicked across the room and landed on Haku. No surprise, no alarm. Just a slow, calculating scan. His gaze lingered on the embroidery. Not recognition, but curiosity.
"An interesting design," Kaelen said finally. His voice was steel wrapped in velvet. "From which country does your guest hail?"
Tiberius stammered. "He... he's a traveler. A scholar."
"My origins aren't important," Haku said, stepping forward smoothly. "The art speaks for itself. A perfect blend of color and form, wouldn't you say, Ser Kaelen?"
Kaelen's lips twitched. "Craftsmanship isn't just for the battlefield."
Haku chuckled. "And yet I imagine you appreciate a good sword more than a silk thread."
They locked eyes.
A subtle dance had begun.
As Aron barked more orders, Kaelen maintained his quiet assessment. Haku noted the knight's focus, a trained man looking for weaknesses, cataloging threats. But he wasn't pressing. Not yet.
'He thinks I might be noble,' Haku mused. 'Or pretending. Either way, he's curious.'
Then Aron caught sight of Haku's robe.
"What's that supposed to be?" he sneered, pointing. "Peasant garb trying to mimic nobility? Take it off. You're an embarrassment."
Haku tilted his head, amused. "Comfort over convention, my lord. Besides, imitation is flattery."
"Insolent worm!" Aron snapped, hand flying to his jeweled dagger.
In a blink, Kaelen was there. His hand clamped on Aron's wrist, hard.
"Remember your father's instructions," Kaelen said, voice low and cold. Aron froze, paling.
"...Fine," he muttered, pulling back.
Kaelen turned to Haku. "Apologies for the outburst."
"None taken. Noble blood runs hot," Haku replied smoothly. "Comes with the burden of expectation, doesn't it?"
Kaelen studied him, face unreadable.
'He's dangerous. Not aggressive, but surgical. He doesn't like that he can't read me.'
"You speak like someone who's seen much," Kaelen said.
"I've seen plenty, whorehouses, dying kings, rebellions, revolutions. They all rhyme eventually." Haku smiled slyly. "And youth makes mistakes. I've made a few. I imagine you have too."
Kaelen's jaw tightened just slightly.
'This traveler… he's no fool. But what is he?'
"I trust your wisdom will guide you, traveler."
"As yours does, you, Ser Kaelen."
Across the room, Aron was still throwing tantrums about thread shades.
But the real conversation had already happened, silent, sharp, and veiled in silk.
Kaelen turned back to his charge, but his thoughts lingered.
'I need to know more about this man. Before he becomes a problem.'
And Haku, now leaning casually against the wall, let his smirk return.
'Checkmate.'