Chapter 3 The Great Tailor Lazarus

❄ Snow ❄

“Here we go, peace and quiet.” Lazarus hummed, before gesturing towards the lone garden bench. “Please Princess Snow, have a seat. Would you allow me to paint you? It won’t be long, and you don’t need to sit still either, I am very skilled.”

“It seems you already had this in mind. I am sorry to ask again, but why the interest in me?” She said as she took seat on the rigid garden bench.

Lazarus held up an ivory paintbrush.

“When I paint, I get to record the image of my subject, the emotion, the memory, their very being. Can you imagine how valuable a picture of the queen would be if I drew her before her reign? It’s a similar case here.”

“Heh, me queen, that’s like gambling on snake eyes.”

“Why is that? Your sister wishes to join the army no, you will be next in line?”

“My mother would never allow her too. If she did, or goddess forbid something happened to Gravis. Lussuria or Lilly would take priority over me. Not that I care, why would I want to be queen and have to constantly listen to complaints or host boring events.”

“Why the unfavorability? If I may inquire?”

Snow leaned back with her hands clasped behind her head gazing at the clouds as the soft sprinkle of winter began to fall.

“I can’t use the frostblood that we were all born with. Some claim that I’m not even her child even though I look like her the most.”

“I see. Funny.”

“What’s the funny part about it? I mean, I guess it is. The daughter of the legendary frost queen, uniter of kingdoms, can’t even use the goddess given blessing of frost.”

“It’s funny because you remind me of myself. I remember a time in my life where I was searching for status to ascend the ranks of the Mountaineer Kingdom. Wealth, political position, and reputation were all seemingly impossible to achieve.”

“How did you get where you are today then?”

“Debauchery and sins are so easily manifested in the mind, and even easier to put on the canvas. My paint is dangerous, because what man could produce such accurate depictions if he himself was not there? My path for office in the republic was quite uncontested. The upper scala of nobility began calling me ‘the painter.’ Less than honest work I will admit but in the canvas of our world there are more colors than one.”

“That sounds like a serial killer’s title honestly, no offense.”

“I was to their coin purses.”

“So, what if I refused you Lord Lazarus how would you blackmail me.” Snow quipped.

“I may be able to think of several ways.” A playful brow raised back at her.

“Oh, do tell.”

“Perhaps a portrayal of a certain princess who frequents the children of peasantry? Or maybe she who finds entertainment in planting the seeds of chaos amongst her guests.”

Snow’s joking demeanor disappeared for a moment before she returned a smug look.

“I see, so tell me serial painter Lazarus, if I’ve been under your watchful eye, why did you not request an audience immediately after the gift reception?”

Lazarus' eyes widened at her smug inquisitive stare. “Hold that look!” He lowered his head behind the canvas. The wooden legs of the easel shook robustly as his brush began a battle with the parchment. The storm of sweeps and strokes caused drops of red paint to fly off to the sides, staining some nearby flowers. When the artistic assault came to an end Lazarus emerged to look at her with chin in hand.

“It is because you are an interesting subject. But that’s good enough for now. I’ve gotten a good base to work with out of that” He put the unfinished canvas in a box by his side and closed it up. That was much faster than she expected.

“Ok… well, Could I at least see the painting?” Snow gazed at the mysterious box.

“You will, but it’s not done yet. We can resume next time.” He locked it shut.

“Next time? He sounded resolute, like it was already decided.

“Yes, Is that okay with you?”

“Sure...”

Agreement made and painting stored away, Lazarus approached the bench and sat down next to her. The scent of sweet grapes drifted across her nose. His clothing revealed a lot more from up close, abstract patterns were weaved in with the near seamless stitches. Snow knew he was a famous designer but not even Lussuria’s clothes presented this level of detailed finery.

“Princess, to be honest with you. I despise formalities. May I call you Snow?”

“Sure?”

“Snow, I am sure you are aware to be wary of swooning nobility, As well as the formalities required to sate the appetite of those whose insecurities can disrupt the theater as a whole. But I assure you this is not an act. I mean you well.”

“I am not understanding you Lazarus.” She scooted over some, creating a space between them.

“I requested an audience with you because I get the feeling that I can place my trust in you, and perhaps one day I can be someone you can call ‘friend.’ Based on some of the political antics of late I feel as if that time is fast approaching.”

“Will you paint my misdemeanors if I don’t agree?”

Lazarus chuckled.

“No you have my word, just note an ally and a friend are two completely different things. I will however seize my belligerence. I have interrogated you enough. How about this Snow? Would you like to waste some time? I know you don’t want to go back in there and quite frankly, I don't either.” His suggestion seemed to be a peace offering of sorts.

“What did you have in mind?” She eyed him.

“I'm sure you will appreciate it.” His smile held a hint of mischief.

The sunlight coming in from the surrounding windows made the colorful array of fabrics Lazarus held up appear more vivid, even as his larger than life presence filled the circular room.

“Hmm, no, not that color.”

“Not the purple? Alright, so you don't want anything fancy. Strange, you seem to have simple tastes. How about this?” He flipped to another color.

“That one!”

Lazarus, Snow and one silent standing royal guard were upstairs in her room, after having used some guards to bring up boxes that were filled to the brink with a variety of Lazarus’ own silks and tailoring materials that he always traveled with.

“So, black shirt with a hint of iridescent blue, along with the half skirt, and then I shall weave spider silk leggings to finish it off.” There was a long craft table stretched across the center of her room like a stage that presented her the show as she watched from atop her bed.

“I may have to change your nickname from ‘serial painter’ to ‘mad tailor,’ Lazarus.”

“You’ve haven’t seen anything yet, Now allow me to perform my magic.” Lazarus pulled out a tray of tools and started his work with the fabrics in a way that was neither fast nor slow. He looked more concentrated on the fabrics than when he was painting. He extended the tape measure that was marked with her measurements and made sure each length was perfect. The sheer fluidity and skill Lazarus had in tailoring on the spot was impressive.

He pulled out another roll of what appeared to be more silk, but this was a shimmering silver she had not seen before.

“That looks pretty, what roll is that?”

“It’s fine steel with a little, touch.” he said as a purple magical aura began emanating from his fingertips, as the strands of silk and steel started twisting around each other. Snow had never seen magic like that before.

“Wow that’s so cool Lazarus, you know magic?! Is this how you tailor all your clothes?”

“Only the important ones. Steel this fine takes months to make. You will definitely appreciate it.”

After about an hour of the mystical tailoring, the outfit was done. Lazarus held it up in the air.

“Perfection.” He sounded very much satisfied with his latest creation.

He left the room to allow her to change into it, the guard following him out and closing the door.

Snow was facing her reflection in front of the standing mirror as she examined the new outfit. The outfit felt strong yet very soft and comfortable. It was by far the highest quality outfit she had ever worn, it looked way better than a dress, and while it wasn’t a dress it still maintained an aristocratic aesthetic. The dark formal shirt had an iridescent lotus design that nearly changed color when she turned to the side and the half skirt with spider silk leggings complemented each other beautifully. “okay, I’m changed!” She called as Lazarus reentered with the guard and could be seen in the background of the mirror awaiting her response.

“Lazarus, this is perfect, just like you said.” She didn’t know what to say beyond that. It was the first gift she received today.

“I am glad to hear that. You know, that level of detail and material strength is on par with my own outfit. What you have right there is one of the best handcrafted pieces I ever made. It suits you well.”

“I don’t know what else to say." Her eyes became irritated as she tried to wipe away the oncoming emotion.

“Say nothing, instead, how would you like to show it off for the final hour downstairs?”

“You know… I think I’ll do just that. I'll go back out there. Thank you Lazarus.” She gave him a hug in a rush of gratitude and went back downstairs.