The first garment was a "Midnight Blue" suit tailored specifically for Julian. Crafted from premium velvet, its lapels were intricately adorned with miniature brass buttons—a subtle nod to the industrial aesthetic of the era. The second was a "Chestnut Brown" ensemble for Gideon, a rugged fusion of reinforced leather and heavy wool, designed with a versatility suited for both the chaotic battlefield and the structured urban sprawl.
"Try them on," Kaelen urged.
A few minutes later, Julian and Gideon emerged, their faces mirrored in expressions of sheer disbelief.
"How... how is this possible, Kaelen?" Julian murmured, tracing the seams of his jacket. "You never took our measurements, yet it fits perfectly—down to the very last thread. It's uncanny."
Gideon rolled his massive shoulders, testing the range of motion, and nodded in agreement. "In all my years, I've never worn anything this comfortable. How could you possibly know my size?"
Kaelen took a measured sip of his wine, a cryptic smile playing on his lips. His gaze seemed to peel back the layers of their very being.
"Julian... your shoulder span is exactly nineteen and a half inches. Because you tend to lean slightly to the left when you read, I had the left armscye widened by precisely 0.2 inches. And while you technically wear a size 9 shoe, the heavy calluses on your heels necessitated a size 10 for a proper fit."
Kaelen turned his gaze toward Gideon.
"Gideon... your shoulders span a staggering twenty-four inches. Since your arm strength is more than triple that of an average man, I had the seams of this suit reinforced with steel-threaded filaments. Your boots are a size 12, but because you have a habit of walking on the balls of your feet, I ensured the toe box was crafted for maximum flexibility."
Silence reclaimed the hall. Julian and Gideon stood speechless, glancing at each other before turning their stunned gazes back to Kaelen. In the brief moments of their encounter, Kaelen had cataloged every minute detail—traits invisible to the naked eye—with absolute certainty.
"When I look at a person, I do not merely see a face," Kaelen said, his voice dropping to a chillingly calm tone. "I measure the architecture of their bones, the rhythm of their gait, and the indelible scars etched upon them by their past."
The deep crimson liquid in the wine glasses shimmered like fresh blood under the hearth's amber glow. Kaelen Voss set his glass down with practiced grace, his piercing gaze locking onto his two companions with absolute gravity.
The Grand Design
"I didn't dress you in these suits for mere vanity... there is a purpose behind every thread."
Kaelen's voice was soft, yet it commanded the entire hall. Julian and Gideon held their breath, leaning in to catch every syllable.
"At exactly six o'clock this evening, a black carriage will arrive at the manor gates. It will ferry you to the 'Grand Imperial Hotel' in the city center. Upon arrival, the manager will personally escort you to a private suite."
Kaelen paused, his slender fingers tracing a geometric pattern upon the mahogany table.
"Inside that room, you will find seven chairs arranged around a large circular table. Gideon, you are to take the seat at the very head of the table. Julian, you will occupy the chair immediately to Gideon's right. The two of you are the 'anchors' of this dinner."
Gideon furrowed his brow. "And the other five, Kaelen? Are we to wait for them?"
A chilling smile played at the corners of Kaelen's lips as he glanced at his pocket watch.
"Once the clock strikes six-thirty... wait for no one. Those meant to be there will arrive; those who aren't will be left behind. At the stroke of the half-hour, begin your meal with gusto. I need you satiated... for the game I have laid out is best enjoyed on a full stomach."
"But Kaelen," Julian asked, a note of anxiety in his voice, "won't you be joining us?"
"I shall be nearby, though you must not seek me out." Kaelen rose, adjusting the sharp lines of his collar. "Remember... you are my 'proxies.' In the face of tyrants, your composure shall be my opening gambit. Now, go. Time waits for no man."
As Kaelen finished, a sharp horn blast echoed from the manor gates. Julian and Gideon exchanged a final look before stepping firmly out into the evening—an evening thick with secrets. Watching their retreating silhouettes, Kaelen struck a match and lit a cigarette. Through the rising veil of smoke, his eyes glinted with the predatory intensity of a hunter.
As they stepped out of the manor, a peculiar sight awaited them. The tailor, who usually spent his hours submerged in a sea of needles and thread, was now clad in a vibrant, ceremonial scarlet suit, poised as if ready for a royal gala.
"Where... where are you going? Why are you dressed like that?" they asked, bewildered.
The tailor offered a serene smile. "Master Kaelen has given me my orders. Like you, I have a destination of my own tonight."
Though his answer left them with more questions than clarity, time was a luxury they no longer possessed. They climbed into the waiting carriage and departed. Glancing back through the rear window, they saw the tailor lingering behind—not with any sense of urgency, but casually whistling a tune. His composure spoke of an absolute, unshakable faith in Kaelen's grand design.
The driver brought them to a halt before the city's most opulent landmark: The Grand Imperial. True to Kaelen's word, the hotel manager greeted them with a practiced bow and personally escorted them to the designated private hall. Amidst the cavernous silence of the room, they took their assigned seats at the massive circular table.
Shortly after, five strangers—individuals they had never laid eyes on before—began to filter into the hall one by one. It was immediately evident from their bearing that these were no ordinary men: