“Behold! The latest fashion. A perfect symmetry of archaism and abundance. Fashion beyond clothing! Les manches ultimes!”

  Chance Eaupéril swirled his cape so that it billowed behind him. Three models waddled out onto the convention hall stage. Each one was wearing a simple cotton shirt and linen pant combo. They were plainly sewn, with plain colors, and plain materials. The sleeves of the shirts however, had been cut to twice the length of a traditional shirt. The pants were similar, with twice the necessary material needed for a regular pant leg. As the models walked their excess fabric dragged along bedding them on the stage.

  The audience in the convention hall applauded for each of the three fashion demonstrators.

  Chance smiled until the models reached the center of the stage. Then the lights dimmed and his voice dropped.

  “But of course wearing a piece of clothing like this would make you look ridiculous. Don’t you see how they can barely walk? No one in their right mind would put on such a bizarre shirt and pants combination.”

  The audience stopped their clapping and replaced it with confusion. Some of them looked around in discomfort. Were they supposed to clap for this? It didn’t seem clap worthy. Chance had said that it was ridiculous. But he had also said it was the latest fashion.

  Why would he say that? ;|

  Had they been tricked? :(

  Had they been fooled? >:(

  “Unless…”

  The audience scooted to the edge of their seats. :0

  “Unless… they were also wearing our extremely fashionable intraclothing cord wraps!”

  Chance held up a set of braided silk cords. “These cord wraps are run down through your sleeve then out and back up to the top of your shirt or pants. They tie off at your belt or collar and make sure that the extra material from your ultimate fashion doesn’t get in the way as you stroll through the city.”

  The models on stage took out their own silk cords and demonstrated tying up their long sleeves so that they were now regular length.

  (Unfortunately only one of them could tie an elegant square knot. The other two had to settle for butterfly knots which were much less secure.)

  The audience resumed the thunderous applause, pleased that they had been in on the revelation the entire time and definitely not fooled by the unusual fashion.

  #

  “You didn’t tell me that your other companion here is the owner of the most prestigious restaurant in Kaseihgaeu, Plinth.”

  “Ha ha. Honestly sir it simply slipped my thoughts. I was already so moved by your generosity that the information pooled at the bottom of my mind. I didn’t want to take advantage of your hospitality.”

  Councilor A’s private box was elevated above the main stage of the Convention Hall. Outfitted with leather seats and glass dividers it was the picture of luxury. A line of sequined servers waited next to a dumbwaiter so that they could make sure all of the guests had snacks and drinks fresh from the kitchen.

  Lux stood next to Plinth near the balcony that overlooked the convention hall stage. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance sir. I am Lux.” He smiled expectantly.

  “You can call me Councilor, or Your Excellency if you prefer.”

  “As you wish, Your Excellency.” Lux said.

  “Your name was Lux, right? Sounds familiar. I can’t quite place it though…” The Councilor scratched his beard.

  “It must be his fame as a chef that you’re thinking of sir.” Plinth offered.

  “That’s probably it.” Councilor A nodded. “You know it’s been a few years since I was in Kaseihgaeu. I’ve been meaning to try the Galaxy Lip’s menu. Seeing as you are the head chef I’m sure that you could make a reservation for me, Mr Lux.”

  Lux unfolded, then folded his hands. “That is quite impossible Your Excellency. Reservations at the Galaxy Lip are made three weeks in advance. We keep to a very tight schedule. There are no available reservations for tonight or even for the next week. However if you are still interested in trying to get a table you can always wait outside with the other tourists and try to get on our wait list.”

  Councilor A flexed one of his elbows. “Are you telling me to stand outside your restaurant to get on a waiting list?”

  “Not at all sir. I am only suggesting standing outside the Galaxy Lip as a way to get a table. It would be your own choice. That would be the only way to get you seated tonight. But I will be honest with you, we have very few cancellations.” Lux, deep in though, looked at the ceiling.

  The Councilor tightened his smile. “Surely you must have at least one open reservation that could be moved around?”

  “I do apologize sir. I have no reservations.” Lux casually turned his head and looked out at the convention hall.

  The Councilor’s head tilted ten degrees. But his eyes stayed level.

  *Ahem* “My friend Lux is correct. The Galaxy Lip restaurant is exceptionally popular and perpetually busy. However!” Plinth held up a hand. “Our restaurant across the street is the exact opposite. How about this Lux, in celebration of all of your incredible success why don’t we let you borrow some of our seating. We can open up our patio space for tonight. That would allow you to take in extra diners from the waiting list. And since the good Councilor has already expressed an interest we could put him at the top of that list and have a table ready for when he arrives.”

  Lux pivoted in place. “Plinth! You’ve done it again. Coming up with a clever solution to an impossible problem.”

  “Not really impossible-”

  “No one could have figured this out but you! This is why you are my best friend.”

  “What about me?” Cophin yelled from across the space.

  “This is why you are one of my two best friends!” Lux said.

  “Only too happy, to make everyone else happy.” Plinth said.

  The Councilor visibly relaxed and sipped his wine. Plinth relaxed as well.

  #

  “But the Créateurgo?t brand isn’t only about high fashion, it’s also about community.” Chance twirled on stage and looked at the crowd. “Not your community of course. Mine. Speaking of which, let me introduce you all to my son. Come on up here Luke!”

  Luke appeared involuntarily on stage. His shoulders were pulled far back and his arms were straight down at his sides like a corpse.

  Chance threw an arm around his son’s shoulder. “Some of you might not know this but Luke is famous. Not as famous as me of course. Ha ha. But he was a genius ever since he was a child. The absolute best. And you know what they say: The salmon doesn’t swim that far upstream. Ha ha! Wave to the people Luke.”

  Luke put up an awkward hand.

  “That a boy.” Chance slapped Luke on the back. “And so handsome. Just like his father.” Chance smiled. “Except for his elbows. Look at how chalky they are.”

  Chance reached over and pulled Luke’s arm up so it was visible to the crowd.

  “It’s a good thing that long sleeves are in this year. What a shameful weenus you have here. Everyone look at my son’s weenus! Lots of extra skin. We have to cover that up. After all, who wants a loose weenus?”

  Chance tugged Luke’s sleeves down.

  “It’s a good thing that my Créateurgo?t brand has an additional line of skin care and cosmetics. Available now. And make sure you check this out.”

  Chance held up a bottle of acrylic gel.

  “You’ve seen nail polish, now get ready for hand polish.”

  Chance uncorked the bottle. There was a tiny brush attached to the lid. He held Luke’s wrist with one hand. Using his other hand he brushed a bead of gold paint on the web of skin between each of Luke’s digits.

  He raised Luke’s hand up higher.

  “Look at that! A tasteful flagina. Now in season and now in stock. And remember that only a registered Guild Craftsman can guarantee the color profile that best matches your look.”

  #

  Inside the theater box Cophin slouched against a banquet table. He stuffed a canapé into his mouth, reluctantly admired its flavor, then swallowed.

  Cophin turned to face the other man standing next to the table. “And what line of work are you in Mr Reference?”

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  Jonathan Reference shifted his shoulders. His muscular chest rippled beneath his shirt. “I am a man of many passions, many grand designs. I have always felt that to define oneself by occupation alone is a derivative exercise. Who are we to reduce a man down to only his most basic mercenary activities?”

  Cophin pushed a few canapés around on a platter. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, sure, but say, what if ya had to pick an occupation? For conversational purposes.”

  “If I had to, I would say that I am in the materials security business.”

  “What? Like tha Guard?”

  “No, nothing like the Guard. My work is more nuanced. The Guard only shows up after a crime has been committed. My work is focused on anticipating crime before it happens.”

  Cophin turned to look at Jonathan. “So you prevent crimes?”

  “Not exactly. I identify them. I compile information on the victims and how they were taken advantage off. Then I pass this information on to others. It’s these other people who take action on the information that I’ve collected. In that way I’m more of a middleman.”

  “Is that right?” Cophin looked Jonathan up and down. He made note of the man's taunt biceps and the way he balanced himself on the balls of his feet.

  “That's right.” Jonathan looked Cophin up and down. He made note of the man's lean calves and the scars across his knuckles.

  “So would ya say that you’ve been busy lately, Mr Reference?”

  “I would say that I'm always on the lookout for new opportunities and vulnerabilities. There is no end to the skulduggery used by thieves and robbers. I find that it always helps to be prepared.”

  “Is that right?” Cophin ate a canapé with small careful bites.

  “That's right.” Jonathan picked up a canapé and swallowed it whole.

  “Well I hope that you- *Thhhbbbthpt*”

  Cophin’s eyes went wide and he spit bits of pastry out onto Jonathan Reference’s expensive shirt.

  Jonathan looked down at his shirt. “What are you-!”

  “No way. Is that?” Cophin looked over the veranda at the convention hall.

  #

  There was a *CRASH* as Ash rode the wooden door over the carpeted floor of the foyer and into the Convention Hall.

  “Here we go!” Ash shouted.

  The door reached the edge of the seating area, tipped over the lip of the aisle of stairs leading into the stands, and then plunged down into the Hall. Ash gripped the edges of the door as it picked up speed.

  Tourists seated in the stands watched the young boy rocket down the steps on his wild ride.

  “Is this part of the show?” A tourist asked.

  “I don’t know. He is dressed like Constatine Grimager.” said another.

  “How am I going to stop?” Ash yelled to himself. “I’ll have to summon a- *Huugggh*”

  At the base of the stairs the door slid between two stanchions that were arranged in a ring around the stage. A velvet rope suspended between the two rods caught Ash right in the throat and hung him out to dry like a piece of laundry on a clothesline.

  The door slammed into the stage and Ash fluttered to the ground. The stanchions tipped over and wrapped around him.

  With a *Cough*Cough*Coughing* fit Ash crawled to his knees and grabbed the edge of the stage. Ash heaved himself over the apron and rolled onto the stage. His leg caught on a velvet rope.

  “Who *Wheeze* put all these velvet rope thingies in my way!”

  Ash kicked the stanchions away with his leg. One of the clips on the rope caught on his pant leg. Ash kicked his leg in a little circle. The rope followed him. Ash continued kicking for a further ninety seven seconds as the stanchion *Clanged* against the stage.

  (The audience watched in silence.)

  *Clang*

  *Clang*Clang*

  *Clang*

  *Clang* *Clang* *Clang*

  *Clang*

  *Clangity*Clang*

  Finally Lady Starling walked over and put a foot on the rope so Ash could pull it off his pants.

  *Wheeze* “Thank you.” Ash wiped some sweat from his forehead.

  Lady Starling pointed over her shoulder at the stage.

  “Oh right.” Ash nodded. *ahem* “I'm looking for the most self important person here!”

  Chance Eaupéril rotated so that his cape spun out behind him. “That would be me.”

  “What are you doing here Mr Eaupéril! How dare you show up here after you fled from Star Town. You were supposed to be floating in the ocean. Preferably face down.”

  “My love and my lady will always be with the sea, but I have found myself called to a higher purpose. Fashion!”

  “You’ve been called a lot of things, none of which I’m going to repeat in public. And how dare you drag Luke up on stage like this. He’s not some apocryphal novelty for you to display.”

  Luke stared off into the middle distance as he stood next to his father.

  Chance leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “Who is… Why if it isn't the jeune garcon Sifter. Tell me, is your mother still attached to that blacksmith that works by the eastern gate of Star Town?”

  “How dare you… Did everyone know about that but me!?” Ash screeched.

  “I thought you would have been happy for her. What with your father being dead, and you always ignoring her by hiding in the woods all day.”

  “I’ll kill you!”

  Ash rushed forward in a frenzy, his fingers outstretched like claws.

  From out of the audience, Jack leapt up onto the stage and grabbed Ash by the arm. “No Ash! Not before he pays his taxes.”

  Ash and Jack wrestled on stage in front of the audience. Tourists in the crowd began to whisper to each other.

  “Is there a theater performance happening?” asked one.

  “Craftsmaster Eaupéril really is a cutting edge creator." said another.

  “Combining drama and fashion? The man must be a genius.”

  “Everyone needs to stop paying attention to this man! He doesn't deserve it!” Ash grunted from the edge of the stage.

  “What?” A tourist shouted.

  “Speak up.” said his neighbor.

  The audience started to mumble.

  *Mumble*Mumble*

  “What are they gripping about?” Ash looked around in annoyance.

  “Here drink this.” Lady Starling held out a green potion bottle to Ash.

  Ash raised an eyebrow.

  Starling waved an impatient hand at him. “It will help you speak louder so the crowd can hear you. That’s what you want right?”

  Ash uncorked the bottle and gulped down the liquid.

  “Speak up!” shouted a tourist from the stands.

  “I HEAR YOU. Wow, WOW. Is that my voice?” Ash bellowed. “That’s incredible.”

  Lady Starling pointed to her own throat. “Vox-mach-nine potion. It strengthens the voice box. Helps you project your voice so that people can hear you in a large space like this.”

  “Fantastic. By the way, I wanted to say I’m sorry about earlier in the gambling hall. That day we first met. I should have moved.”

  Lady Starling shrugged. “Don't worry about it kid. I could have waited you out.”

  “But now that I have everyone’s attention you should stop giving attention to that man.” Ash pointed at Chance. “He is a fraud and a swindler and-”

  “I CHALLENGE YOU!” Chance stamped his foot down on the stage.

  The convention hall went quiet.

  Chance held up a hand. *Ca-Caaaw* Out of the rafters a falcon leapt into flight. The bird made a circle over the heads of the audience before landing on Chance’s extended arm.

  “How dare you, make such boldly unfounded accusations. I am no ordinary swindler. That is to say, I am a Master Craftsman. My prodigious products are the pinnacle of professionalism.”

  “You can fool as many of these cud chewing cows as you want.” Ash waved at the audience. “But I know what you are. I won’t let you use Luke as a prop in your stage show.”

  “Ash, it’s fine.” Luke waved a hand below his waist.

  “That’s right Ash. You’re acting like a fool.” Jack pulled on Ash’s arm.

  “Why are you defending him? You know Mr Eaupéril is barely better than a lamprey.”

  “Your opinion is worth less than lamprey spit. And I have paperwork to fill out. Stop making a scene.” Jack yelled.

  “This is stupid. Luke, get off the stage.” Ash shouted.

  The audience *Grumbled*.

  “What is family if not a tool for success? I’ve had enough of your outburst.” said Chance.

  Chance withdrew a pocket watch from one of his sleeves. He threw the watch down on the stage. The watch *Clattered* across the polished wood to land in front of Ash.

  “I challenge you, you, you, upstart! You who know nothing of fashion.” (The Audience *Chuckled*.) “Either get off of my stage or set the time. If you dare.”

  Ash crouched down and picked up the pocket watch. He threw it across the stage at Chance. Chance caught it with one hand.

  “I don’t need any timepiece to know that I’ve overindulged your ego. Luke and I are leaving.” Ash grabbed Luke’s arm.

  Chance shoved the pocketwatch back into his sleeve. “Very well. The challenge is accepted. As they say, Enter my nichée, feel my talons!”

  With a flourish of his arm Chance released the falcon. The bird spun in an arc and dived at Ash.

  “Ahh!” Ash threw himself to the ground.

  Jack fell on top of him. Luke fell on top of him.

  The falcon whirled around and started making loops over the stage. In the stands the audience burst into applause.

  “What a spectacle.” said a tourist. “He challenged the Craftsmaster in front of everyone!”

  “I can’t believe all the twists and turns.” said another.

  “This is the best convention that I’ve ever attended!” a tourist shouted.

  Ash pushed himself up to his elbows. “What is happening now?”

  Jack looked down at Ash. “Do you have any idea what you did?”

  Ash scratched his elbow. “None at all. I hit that velvet rope pretty hard. *Wheeze* I’m still a little dizzy.”

  Jack stood back up. Luke did the same. Luke helped Ash to his feet.

  Jack dusted off his shirt. “It’s an old tradition among Craftsmasters. You challenge someone to a duel and whoever can summon the best item is the winner. Normally you let the other party decide the location and time. That was what the watch was for.”

  Lady Starling looked around the convention hall. “Looks like the location is here and the time is now.”

  Jack rubbed his forehead with both hands. “Ah, Grandpa is going to be so upset he missed this. He loooves challenges. He would have really liked to see this.”

  Ash pulled Luke’s sleeve. “Does your father, know, I mean about me and my…”

  “I’ll be honest he might have never been paying attention when your summon power was discovered.” said Luke.

  Ash grinned. “He challenged me without knowing my greatest weakness. I might have a chance.”

  Lady Starling rubbed her stiff shoulders. “Child, are you sure you want to go through with this? You’re going to attract a lot of attention if you do.”

  “What other choice do I have?” Ash hiked up his pants.

  “You could back down, rescind your accusations, and leave.”

  “Yeah… no fucking way.” Ash shook his head.

  Ash looked around the arena. The crowd was working themselves into a frenzy

  “The only thing I care about in the entire world right now is humiliating that man in a public forum.”

  Lady Starling rolled her shoulders back. “Damn boy. Alright, let's get this show pumped up.”