[At the top of the neat pile of clothing he has left beside the spring sits a blue jacket, cut from fine cloth and structured in a military style. Spread across its breast, stitched in gold thread, are the glimmering wings of a pair of eagles. One clutches a scepter in its claws, the other a parcel of arrows.]
Well, they are custom made.
[Not haughty, but jovial. A joke, although the truth as well. Privately, he thinks he will invest in clothes that are not so conspicuously royal. He isn't sure what good it will do to play the part of a countryless king here.]
You must have an eye for the finer things, then?
[The man's suit is the sort that might belong to a prominent Kerch mercher. Or perhaps a Barrel boss, one or the other.]
no subject
Well, they are custom made.
[Not haughty, but jovial. A joke, although the truth as well. Privately, he thinks he will invest in clothes that are not so conspicuously royal. He isn't sure what good it will do to play the part of a countryless king here.]
You must have an eye for the finer things, then?
[The man's suit is the sort that might belong to a prominent Kerch mercher. Or perhaps a Barrel boss, one or the other.]