Noah changed into the new set, expecting another round of criticism. But when he turned towards the mirror this time, both of them fell silent.

Nigel's moustache twitched. "Well… would you look at that."

The outfit fit him perfectly. The dark palette gave him a commanding presence, the cut accentuating his lean build.

He looked composed, and, dare he admit it, almost regal.

Nigel let out a small, satisfied laugh. "Now that's more like it. You look like you belong in the ballroom instead of breaking into it."

Noah smirked faintly. "I can live with that."

"Good." Nigel went to the table and retrieved a small box. "Now, for the finishing touches."

He opened the box, revealing a pair of silver cufflinks shaped like intertwined blades, a neatly folded cravat, and a set of black gloves.

"Wear these. The cufflinks will give you a subtle edge, literally and figuratively."

Noah slipped them on, fastening the cravat as Nigel adjusted it with meticulous care.

"Perfect," Nigel murmured, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

Then he reached for something draped over the far end of the rack, a dark cape. The interior was lined with a faint silvery fabric that caught the light just so.

"This," Nigel said, holding it out reverently, "is your evening cape."

"You'll wear it on arrival, then hand it to the attendants before entering the ballroom. It's traditional. It also completes the look."

Noah put it on, and for a moment, he almost didn't recognize the man staring back at him in the mirror.

The black attire, the cape, the sharp edges of his silhouette, it all made him look powerful and untouchable, like a shadow walking among light.

Nigel wasn't done yet. He knelt by the rack, retrieving a pair of polished black leather shoes and sliding them toward him.

"And these, in your size, of course. I'd hate to see you ruin perfection with ugly boots."

Noah slipped them on. The fit was perfect. It was comfortable, snug, and didn't click too loudly when he moved.

Finally, he straightened, looking at himself again.

For the first time in a long while, he didn't see a student or a summoned hero staring back at him.

He saw a man who was refined, dangerous, and completely in control.

Nigel clasped his hands behind his back, beaming. "There we are. From bedraggled stray to dark gentleman in under an hour. Professor Cecilia will be proud."

Noah smirked faintly. "I'll take your word for it."

"As you should," Nigel said, gathering his things. "Now, remember, chin up, shoulders back, and for the love of all that's holy, try not to punch anyone at the ball."

"No promises," Noah replied dryly.

Nigel chuckled, wheeling his rack of clothes towards the door. "Oh, I do hope you cause just enough trouble to make the nobles nervous."

When the door finally shut behind him, Noah turned back to the mirror, studying his reflection once more.

He had to admit, Nigel's handiwork was impressive.

He looked amazing.

[][][][][]

The armored carriage thundered down the dirt road, its heavy wheels rumbling as the horses pulled it towards the Heaven's Gate monolith.

The mid morning sunlight glinted off the steel plating of the carriage, which was painted a neutral blue.

The soldiers stationed around the monolith immediately noticed it.

"Carriage approaching from the upper road!" one of the lookouts shouted, his horn sounding a short note of alarm.

Within moments, several guards hurried to their stations. The archers raised their bows, while the foot patrol moved forward in formation, their weapons ready.

The carriage slowed, its horses snorting and stamping the ground.

As it came to a full stop before the barricade, a crest could be seen engraved on its door. The seal of the royal palace.

"Stand down!" barked one of the senior guards. "It's from the palace!"

A murmur spread through the soldiers, the tension easing.

The carriage door opened, and a tall man in a deep blue cloak stepped down.

His armor was polished to mirror sheen, the insignia of the royal administration gleaming faintly beneath his cloak.

"I am the Inspection Officer from the palace," he said in a clipped tone, his voice carrying easily. "I trust Captain Roderick of the Royal Guards has been informed of my visit."

Moments later, Captain Roderick himself strode forward, his own armor faintly dusted with the grit of long hours on duty.

He bowed stiffly. "Inspector, welcome to Heaven's Gate. We received word of your arrival this morning."

The officer inclined his head slightly. "Good. I don't intend to waste time. Take me to your command tent."

"Of course," Roderick said, motioning for the man to follow.

The two of them walked past the assembled soldiers and into the camp. The guards lowered their weapons, watching as the carriage was wheeled aside for inspection.

As they disappeared into Roderick's tent, the camp slowly returned to routine.

Unseen by all, however, in a patch of shadow at the far edge of the monolith's base, the darkness seemed to twist unnaturally, as if alive.

And from it stepped a figure draped in a long, hooded cloak of deepest black. He was armored beneath the cloak.

It was Lord Vine.

His boots made no sound as he walked across the rocky ground.

When one of the guards stationed at the perimeter turned and spotted him, the man's eyes widened.

Before his mouth could open, Lord Vine was standing directly in front of him.

His gloved hand moved faster than sight, driving a spear of darkness clean through the guard's chest. The soldier froze, his eyes going blank, a gurgle escaping his throat.

Vine tilted his head slightly, watching the blood drip from his hand.

"Quiet now," he murmured, almost kindly. He withdrew his weapon, letting the body collapse to the ground.

Crouching beside it, he dipped two fingers into the spreading pool of blood and began to draw sigils on the ground. When the final stroke was complete, the symbols began glowing an ominous red.

The ground shifted, sliding aside in perfect silence to reveal a staircase descending into pitch-black darkness.

Vine stood, brushing the dirt from his cloak. With a flick of his hand, the dead guard's body shuddered.

The torn flesh mended itself, bones knitting back together, color returning to the skin.

Then, the man's eyes opened, glowing a sickly green before dimming to their usual hue.

The thrall stood, expression blank, breathing slow and steady. Aside from the almost undetectable change in his aura, he was indistinguishable from the living.

"Good," Vine said softly. "You'll do."

Without another glance, he descended the newly revealed stairs.

The air grew colder as he moved deeper. The light from above faded quickly, replaced by absolute darkness. But Lord Vine moved effortlessly, his steps sure.

He finally reached a vast underground hall, its expanse lost in darkness.

"Still sleeping, are we?" he murmured. His tone was one of amusement rather than fear.

Reaching into his cloak, he withdrew a small vial. Inside it swirled a thick, dark liquid.

He crouched, setting the vial on the ground, and with a slight push of magic, rolled it forward.

It clinked once, then disappeared into the darkness beyond.

Vine straightened, his task complete. He turned away without waiting to see what would follow.

By the time he ascended the stairs again, the sigils had already begun to fade.

As soon as he stepped out, the stone sealed shut behind him, leaving no trace of the passage's existence.

The undead guard stood waiting for him, motionless, hands at his sides.

Vine smiled faintly beneath his hood, his voice a low whisper that only the dead could hear. "Serve well, my thrall. Your scent would be covered for two days."

He glanced towards the direction of the command tents, his eyes glinting with malice. "If it were anyone else, you could stay forever. But Roderick would discover you in three days."

"But that won't matter. I only need two."

He chuckled. "And on the second night, while the kingdom dances and toasts, we shall usher a new world."

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