Vermilion ~ Seven: Seamster

[annarti.livejournal.com]

‘Do you think I should, though?’

The seamster smiled and licked at the end of his thread to smooth the fibres, then looked up at his brother.

The young man, barely out of adolescence, had a face twisted with anxiety that only made the seamster’s smile broaden. ‘Of course I do!’ he cried, selecting a fine needle from his case. With deft fingers he passed the thread through the eye, then picked up the dress for mending. It was a minor repair, just a torn seam under the left arm, but the garment itself was so magnificent that the seamster felt he was sewing for the queen herself.

‘But what if it isn’t right?’ his younger brother protested. ‘I know nothing about flutes. I wouldn’t know how much it’s worth.’

‘Brother, whichever you buy, he will love it, simply because it came from you.’

‘But I want him to love it because it’s a beautiful instrument.’

The seamster sighed and set the garment in his lap, watching his brother with lament. ‘And when was a singer supposed to know about flutes, hmm? Or violins, or any instrument that can’t be played while you’re singing. This is why you work together. You’re not buying him the perfect flute first time, right? He probably knows little more about flutes than you do.’

The singer shrugged and rested back in his chair. ‘I suppose. He’s never owned one before. He’s always wished he could, though. He says my voice would match perfectly with a flute.’

‘And now there’s a merchant in town who’s selling them.’ The seamster smiled. ‘It’s fate, little brother. Go and have your fortune read if you don’t believe me.’

Before the singer could reply, a knock sounded at the front door. On such a delightful day, the door was wide open to let the fresh air into the house, but it was polite of the visitor to knock, in any case.

In the doorway stood Master Vermilion, his signature red coat draped over one arm and a languid smile over his face. ‘I do hope I’m not interrupting anything,’ he said, peering around the door.

The seamster worked his needle into the fabric and set the dress aside, then with his brother stood to bow to their young master. ‘Not at all, Sir, it is but a simple repair job.’

‘Oh, no, I meant the conversation.’

The singer looked down at his feet and rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. His brother bit back a grin. ‘I believe I’ve said all that needs saying.’

‘Well, then,’ Vermilion said with a mischievous quirk to his mouth, ‘I’ll only add that it would be delightful to have a flautist around the castle.’

The singer flopped down in his chair, holding one hand up to vainly try and cover the bright red of his face.

Vermilion grinned and graciously changed the subject. ‘I’m afraid I’ve lost a button,’ he said, holding his coat out to the seamster. ‘The rotten thing must have dropped off in town today. I’m afraid I have no idea where it might be now.’

The seamster shrugged and accepted the coat. ‘Not to worry,’ he said, draping the coat over the back of his chair. ‘I knew it was bound to happen, so I bought plenty of spares when I made it.’ He began fossicking through his button drawer for the packet in question, made from a scrap of left over red fabric from the coat itself. ‘Here we go. If you don’t mind waiting, Master, I can have it fixed up in no time.’

‘Fabulous,’ Vermilion said with a grin. ‘Would you mind if I took a seat?’

‘Not at all. Please do.’

The singer reached for the tea pot to pour the young master a cup while the seamster settled back in his chair and uncoiled a length of red cotton to resew the button.

‘While you’re here, master,’ the singer said, entirely too casual. The seamster held his lips tight on another grin, suspecting his brother was about to get Vermilion back for his earlier embarrassment.

‘I was wondering if you might be able to clear up a rumour for me.’

The young master barked a short laugh as he accepted his cup of tea. ‘If it concerns myself, then most certainly! What salacious morsel are we gossiping over today?’

The seamster glanced up despite himself. He wanted this one confirmed, too.

‘Well,’ the singer answered. ‘The rumour at the castle is that our lord and lady have had little to do with the preparation of this great party.’

Vermilion gave a slight, modest nod and sipped at his tea. ‘I may have had more than just a hand in the preparations, this is true.’

‘And,’ the singer went on, his delicate voice almost sly, ‘that it isn’t a party for all the nobility in the region, rather for one person in particular.’

‘Gracious!’ The languid smile was quickly wiped from the master’s features, and he took another, lengthy drink from his cup to compose himself.

The seamster realised he was staring and hastily got back to work, pushing the needle carefully through the plush red velvet. He almost felt the entire town’s ears burning, and he wondered if Vermilion felt it, too.

‘I do hope I haven’t been so obvious around my guests,’ the young master murmured, far from his usual, jovial demeanour. ‘Or around my parents, for that matter.’

The singer shook his head reassuringly. ‘I wouldn’t imagine so, Sir. It’s only small things such as the serving staff would notice.’

‘Such as?’

‘Oh, well, new boots, for instance. The choice of songs and the meal planning, even the bouquets of flowers. Such things speak of a more specific interest than simply a grand party.’

The seamster looked up as he tied off the last of his stitching. A soft smile tugged at Master Vermilion’s lips as he looked down into his teacup, his mind clearly elsewhere.

The seamster licked his lips and hoped he wasn’t overstepping his boundaries. ‘Might I ask who it is who has won your attentions, Master?’

The languid smile the townsfolk knew so well slid effortlessly back onto Vermilion’s face as he looked up from his empty cup. ‘If that tasty morsel hasn’t yet made it to rumour,’ he said, ‘then I think I’ll be holding that to my chest for as long as I can. Let’s see if I win an affirmative first, shall we?’

The seamster passed the mended red coat back to its owner. ‘Good luck this evening, then, Sir.’

‘Well, thank you,’ Vermilion said with a nod. He passed a few copper pieces to the seamster for his work, but the seamster shook his head.

‘You should know by now, Master, that your gossip is a far more valuable currency than mere coin.’

Vermilion shook his head with a rueful laugh and pocketed the coins. ‘I do at that.’ He got to his feet and turned towards the singer. ‘Well, then, good luck to you, too, and I don’t just mean for your musical performance.’

The seamster laughed as his brother’s face once again blushed red. He mumbled a quick thank you as the young master disappeared out the door, then buried his face once more in his hands.

‘Well, now I have to buy the flute, don’t I?’

Comments

[saiena.livejournal.com]

And it all gets ever more curious.

[annarti.livejournal.com]

[ladylight.livejournal.com]

ENGAGEMENT PARTY!! D:

(Doesn't he know what happens at [quasi]weddings?)

Very clever how you picked up the thread of the flute from before. Hmm! What will the Lady think?

[annarti.livejournal.com]

Hmmmm what indeed? X3

[drazzi.livejournal.com]

I am already instantly interested in this chapter because I love adorable Llayan brothers having adorable conversations.

The seamster smiled. ‘It’s fate, little brother. Go and have your fortune read if you don’t believe me.’
ADORABLE.

Man Vermillion likes to put his oar into other people's love lives.

I love that in Llayad the upper class can talk so.. naturally with the common classes. How its all very family and adorable. And again, so different from Kazin XD

‘You should know by now, Master, that your gossip is a far more valuable currency than mere coin.'
ALSO ADORABLE.

I want more of these brothers, okay? Yes. Good.

[annarti.livejournal.com]

He's a meddling little meddler, is Vermillion, but he does mean well. Or so we hope.

One of them comes back, for sure! I forget whether the other does. Might do.