Valeria caught the heavy traveler's mantle with a single, swipe of her hand. With an effortless flick of her wrists, she whipped the dark wool around her shoulders, fastening the iron clasp over her collarbone with the practiced grace of a queen donning ermine.
The coarse wool did little to hide the proud curve of her new silhouette, but she seemed marginally satisfied, rolling her shoulders to test the balance of her limbs.
"Tolerable," she declared, looking over at Jack. "Though once your business with the northern sheep is concluded, I expect silk, tailored velvet, and an armory that doesn't smell like dried goblin grease."
"You'll get what you earn," Jack replied flatly. He turned his attention back to the shadow waiting patiently near the edge of the dais. "Ren."
The faceless specter stepped forward into the dim light.
Ren bowed his head slightly. The smooth, shifting canvas of his pale, featureless flesh began to bubble like cooling wax.
