A spectacular dawn rose on the city of Calastre. The caravan had still been there, but with how entertaining his travelling companions were being, Krey was able to eschew his worries for the time being. He wasn’t sure who was more shy of the other, Emilie or the people making way for her. As for Livia, he practically had to hold her arm and lead her along to stop her from bumping into things; she was totally unable to keep her eyes forward, turning as she walked to take in the sight of it all with big, bright eyes.

It was beyond all that she had imagined. Beautiful towers of stone and glass reached for the sky, and the totally paved pathways bore rivers of so many different people; she had never seen such a diverse population before, so many walks of life all in one place. At first, she found the ambient noise abrasive, but the more she took in her strange surroundings, the easier it became on her ears. Many smells passed through the air - some lovely, some awful - and it was a constant challenge to not step on someone’s toes.

Emilie’s presence, as Krey had predicted, was helpful in this matter. There was even the odd cry to make way, or exclamations of praise and how blessed this day would now be. Emilie had her hood up, and let Krey take the lead, going between him and Livia, who just about had her bearings.

They had made sure to remove all the items they had accrued thus far from Danu’s saddlebags before walking into the city, and had brought them now to one of the street marketplaces. Krey approached several stalls with all their loot bundled under his arm, and piece by piece, their loot pile was exchanged for coin… some of which was spent immediately on undergarments— both replacements for Krey and spares for both him and Livia, just in case; they couldn’t find any chaste shrouds for sale, and Emilie wasn’t surprised, explaining that they are made individually for each wearer, and assuring them that she would be fine with the one she had. One merchant in particular had been especially impressed by Krey’s esteemed companion - the hierophant he’d heard cry of earlier that morning - and even offered to exchange Krey’s pouch of basic travellers for some slightly higher quality ones… for a minimal fee just for them, of course. The party accepted, and the peddler even threw in a couple extra, winking at Krey and saying slyly: “next time you’re in the area, and in need of services or wares… think of me, won’t ya, Sir Knight?”

They moved on without making any promises.

“I wonder what kind of awesome stuff we could buy in a place like this before we leave,” Livia mused.

“I hate to spoil the magic of this moment for you, Livia, I truly do,” Emilie said, “but we need to live on this money. We will most likely use it for things like accommodations, meals, and cleaning when we get the chance to take advantage of such things.”

“That’s true,” Krey replied, “but… I’m sure there’s room in the budget for one fun purchase.”

Emilie shot him a narrow look.

“A practical fun purchase, of course,” Krey added. “One we’ll definitely get use out of. Such as… oh, I don’t know… perhaps a light weapon for you, my lady.”

“For me?” Emilie recoiled. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t be practical, Krey. I have never been trained in the use of such implements, and I have no desire to wield one. Besides, I have always managed to get by without such things, and I see no reason why that should change.”

“We could teach you,” said Livia. “Having another sword arm, even a rookie one, wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Mayhap you teach me first, and then we can invest in a weapon if you both truly deem is necessary. For the time being, let us move on.” When she realised she had been a tad more harsh than she’d intended, she tried to lift the mood back up. “Come… let us find something for Livia to mark the occasion— a souvenir of her first time visiting a big city.”

Krey smiled and nodded. “Agreed.”

Livia took the lead now, exploring the market street with a spring in her step. She was drawn toward a part of the street occupied by a series of more colourful stalls with more eye-catching folks running them, selling trinkets and treasures of magical make. One young, pink-clad woman in a wide-brimmed, pointed hat beckoned her over, and offered her a small glass jewel that reminded her of the traveller motes they used to make camp. It was filled to bursting with thick pink light.

“Yes,” the vibrant witch sang, “it’s the same sort of thing! Though travellers are motes of purple magic - transmogrification and transformation - my glamours are pink motes, the colour of illusions and trickery! Go ahead, use it; consider it a free sample~”

Livia didn’t hesitate, and crushed the little sphere in her hand. In an instant, she was enveloped in a swirl of pink, and when it faded, she was no longer wearing her previous attire… or, at least, it didn’t look like she was. Instead, she appeared to don a gingham frock, checkered in white and green, and a pair of matching shoes. “Holy— wow!” she twirled in place, giggles rising in her throat. “It feels both different… yet also like I’m still wearing my actual clothes!”

“That’s because you are wearing your actual clothes,” the witch explained, “just… with an extra, magical layer. Superficially, it will feel and behave as it appears, but if your friend here - the handsome chap in full armour - used one, he would still benefit from its full protection, even if it doesn’t look - or even feel - like he would. Such is the power of a trickster!”

“How long will it last?” Livia asked.

“That one should last, oh, a few hours, I should think.”

Livia just twirled again, bubbling with glee; she had never worn something so… feminine before. It filled her with a tingling sensation she hadn’t felt since she’d been a little girl.

After purchasing a small pouch of glamours with most of the gylt the party agreed was disposable, Livia used the last of their fun money to get a group managraph taken of them before her glamour expired, taken by one of the other magic merchants who was offering miscellaneous parlour trick services. Livia stared at it for a few minutes, taking it in, and then carefully slipped it into the inside pocket of her jacket. It took a bit of delicate fumbling to get it in right, as not only was the jacket not visibly a jacket right now, but the managraph also became invisible when it was pocketed.