Chapter 52.5: Sebastian’s Interlude

The tailor’s arms were exceptionally well suited to its profession.

Sebastian stood straight while one of them passed a measuring cord around his chest. Another stretched the cord across his shoulders, while a third held the loose end away from his wings. The wroughtborn’s narrow frame shifted behind him with little wasted movement, its long limbs reaching around Sebastian rather than forcing him to continually turn.

There was little remarkable about the creature beyond that. The Tessid possessed everything necessary to perform its purpose: long fingers for handling needles, sufficient dexterity to work pins into cloth without catching the skin beneath, and enough strength to draw fabric tight when required. Its body was narrow and somewhat coarse in its manifestation, but there was nothing deficient about it.

Sebastian raised his arms when instructed. The movement came more easily than expected, and he paused only long enough to register it before lifting them the rest of the way.

The tailor drew the cord beneath one arm and across his back.

There it was again. Less resistance.

The change had been gradual enough that Sebastian had first attributed it to imagination. His wings had been rigid for so long that every movement of his shoulders accounted for their weight without conscious thought. Raise the arm only so far. Turn from the waist rather than the shoulders. Allow extra room behind when stepping between furniture. Never attempt to flex the base farther than it wished to move.

Necessary accommodations, and under Magnavex they had never interfered with his duties.

The tailor pressed two fingers lightly against the base of his left wing and guided it aside.

It moved farther than it should have.

Sebastian’s expression remained unchanged.

The relief was physical rather than emotional, a loosening across muscles that had spent years compensating for weight and rigidity. The cracked stone of his wings had not disappeared. Their surfaces remained hard in places, and their movement was far from natural, but they were beginning to yield.

His new master was supplying him with an excessive amount of mana.

Sebastian glanced toward Lucarion.

The Demon Lord sat nearby with one leg drawn slightly back beneath the chair, watching the tailor work. Flicker had settled beside him.

Lucarion rested a hand on Flicker’s head without looking down, and the Barghest leaned into it.

Sebastian returned his attention to the tailor. One long hand had taken up a piece of chalk while another stretched dark fabric across a nearby table. The Tessid marked a line, measured it, adjusted the fabric, then marked another.

Lucarion’s gaze followed the chalk, then the cord. When the tailor selected a pair of pins and folded one section of fabric over another, Lucarion shifted forward again.

Odd.

Sebastian had served Eclipserans who cared about clothing before. Appearance could matter considerably depending upon the occasion, the company, or the desired impression. Interest in the completed garment was understandable.

Interest in the precise manner in which a seam was pinned was less so.

The tailor stepped in front of Sebastian and held another length of fabric against him. Sebastian lowered his arms as the cloth was adjusted across his chest, then tugged lightly near his waist.

Sebastian filed that away with the growing collection of things he did not yet understand about his master. There were more of those than he preferred.

A servant benefited from predictability.

Magnavex had been predictable. Not simple, certainly not, but Sebastian had known her expectations. He had known when a meal was required, when a room should remain undisturbed, what standard of service she accepted, and what mistakes would attract her displeasure.

Lucarion was different.

The Demon Lord did not enjoy being attended. Sebastian had discovered that within the first few days of serving him indirectly. Remaining at Lucarion’s shoulder without purpose made him restless. Appearing suddenly could make him flinch. Wroughtborns in general appeared to produce a degree of discomfort in him that he made only a limited effort to conceal.

Sebastian had been the first to provoke that reaction strongly enough to remember.

He did not take offense. A servant who took every preference of his master personally would be poorly suited to service.

The solution had been simple: do the work, remain elsewhere, appear when required, and leave when dismissed.

Lucarion seemed happiest with service that happened around him without requiring him to observe the servant performing it. Once Sebastian understood that, attending him had become uncomplicated.

Which made the present situation stranger.

Lucarion had voluntarily brought him here.

The tailor tugged gently at Sebastian’s sleeve, and he extended his arm. Lucarion watched the measuring cord run from shoulder to wrist, his eyes following the tailor’s fingers as they pinched the cloth near Sebastian’s cuff.

The tailor worked around him again and reached toward his wings. He gestured for Sebastian to raise them.

Sebastian shifted them.

The right wing resisted at first, then the base loosened enough to allow another fraction of movement.

The sensation was subtle, but pleasant.

He had forgotten how much easier it had once been to move without accounting for stone.

The tailor adjusted the cloth around the wing and marked the opening. Sebastian looked at the Tessid’s own body.

Its manifestation was exactly what he would have expected. There was no excess and no unnecessary refinement. Everything it required to stand here and perform its contracted function was present. Its long arms moved precisely. Its fingers handled a needle without hesitation. Its body would not impede its work.

There would be little purpose in providing more.

The tailor drew the cloth away again.

Lucarion was scratching Flicker behind one ear.

The difference between the Barghest and the tailor was almost excessive enough to be impolite.

Flicker was not merely manifested. He was thriving.

Sebastian had been around long enough to recognize what generous mana looked like. Healthy fur. Strong manifestation. Far more mana than necessary for a Barghest whose primary occupation appeared to be following Lucarion around and receiving attention. The Barghest carried it everywhere, in his fur, in the solidity of his body, and in the healthy strength of the traits natural to him.

The tailor placed a folded piece of dark fabric over Sebastian’s shoulder and began pinning it into position. Sebastian stood still while Lucarion’s gaze immediately returned to the pins.

Sebastian had expected that changing masters might alter his duties.

He had not expected his first notable change in circumstance to be better clothing.

The pinstripe suit he had worn for years remained functional. Poorly proportioned, perhaps. The trousers were too short. The jacket did not sit correctly around his shoulders. The placement of his wings complicated the back in ways the original garment had never properly accounted for.

None of that had stopped him from carrying a tray or prevented him from maintaining the manor.

The clothes served.

Lucarion had looked at them and decided that he needed a new wardrobe.

More peculiar still, he had asked Sebastian what he wanted instead.

Sebastian had needed a moment to answer.

Servants were told what uniform was appropriate, what presentation the household required, and what would be worn during particular duties.

Sebastian had eventually requested much the same clothing he already possessed. There had been no secret desire for ornament. A servant’s clothing should be clean, practical, formal, and appropriate to the household he represented.

The difference was that these would fit.

The tailor withdrew several pins, adjusted the shoulder, and replaced them. Sebastian flexed his fingers inside his gloves.

Lucarion had not laughed at his answer, nor had he overruled it.

He had simply accepted it.

Another peculiarity.

The tailor motioned for him to turn, and Sebastian did.

His wings moved with him.

The right dragged less than it had that morning. He felt the difference more strongly now that someone was repeatedly forcing him to move his shoulders and back.

Lucarion was giving him considerably more mana than necessary.

There was no question of that.

The question was why.

Perhaps Lucarion simply had no sense of appropriate allocation. That was possible. He was inexperienced in an impressive number of areas. Whether he understood what that generosity did to their manifestations was another matter.

Sebastian suspected he did not. Perhaps he should tell him? But if Ezkyrath hadn’t…

Getting on Ezkyrath’s bad side would be unwise. Whatever position she had maneuvered herself into, she currently possessed considerably more influence than someone of her standing should have. who knows what she might do to him if he ruins it for her.

Further Sebastian’s wings were improving. He could hardly advise his master to stop.

His master had noticed many things since arriving, but he had also failed to notice others directly in front of him.

The tailor began working at the back of the garment. One long arm reached over Sebastian’s shoulder while another passed beneath the edge of his wing. The tailor adjusted the fabric carefully, creating enough room that the coat would not pull whenever the wings moved.

Flicker had gotten up. The Barghest wandered around Lucarion’s chair once before lowering himself at his feet, his head resting across one of Lucarion’s boots.

Lucarion looked down, and for several seconds, his attention left the tailor completely.

He rubbed Flicker’s head, and the Barghest’s tail thumped once against the floor.

Then the tailor made a small snipping sound.

Lucarion looked up immediately.

Sebastian almost frowned.

His master watched the cut being made, then the next. When the tailor folded the edge and began setting a line of stitches, Lucarion stared at the needle.

Not impatiently, nor with the vacant expression of someone waiting for the task to finish. Neither with interest. Just curiosity as if waiting for something new.

Uncertainty was rarely improved by speculation.

He dismissed the question for now.

The tailor stepped back. It held up the partially fitted coat, examined one side, then moved closer and adjusted the waist.

The fabric was excellent.

Sebastian could tell that much without caring particularly about clothing. It fell properly rather than bunching. The shoulders rested where shoulders were intended to rest. The sleeves reached his wrists. The back accommodated his wings without leaving the entire garment hanging loose around them.

A small improvement in absolute terms, but a considerable one after years of making do.

Sebastian raised one arm, then the other, and rolled one shoulder carefully.

The cloth moved with him, the garment was no longer restricting him.

Sebastian lowered his arms.

“Suitable?” Lucarion asked.

It was the first thing his master had said for some time.

Sebastian looked toward him. Lucarion’s attention had finally moved from the tailor to Sebastian himself.

“Yes, my Lord.”

Lucarion nodded.

That seemed to satisfy him.

There was no order to change the style, no criticism, and no decision that Sebastian should wear something more impressive because he now belonged directly to the Demon Lord.

Sebastian had expected the new Demon Lord to become more demanding once the contract belonged to him directly. He possessed authority enough to dictate nearly every detail of Sebastian’s service, yet had asked what clothing Sebastian preferred.

Sebastian wondered, not for the first time, as his master approached the tailor to discuss something of his own, what purpose Ezkyrath intended for him?