Fashion advice

Caspian's mouth was a tight, flat line as he reflected on Mayra's clothing advice before preparing to leave for Klain a few days later.

She'd basically wanted to overhaul his entire wardrobe and replace it with the kinds of clothes that Roland had often worn. 

Peter would have offered to lend him some things, he said, but all he had were uniforms, and that wouldn't do for Caspian at all. 

The Commodore's son had eyed with trepidation the clunky, heavy, uncomfortable-looking boots the Klain soldiers wore. He much preferred the freedom of bare feet wherever he went. 

He'd noticed the Rhone guards had more understated footwear, often wearing low-slung leather shoes or even sandals with straps across the top of the foot. 

Surely that was something he could manage. 

Naomi confirmed to him when they got home that, to her recollection, all of Mayra's advice was accurate. The men of Klain did indeed all wear boots or shoes similar to the guards that had come with Peter and Riley. 

Of course, even if they didn't solely possess uniforms, those two were far too tall for their clothing to fit Caspian. Did Klain breed many men so large? Their army would indeed be formidable warriors. 

But Lysander was of regular size, as were most of the Rhone and Klain soldiers that helped with guarding the brides. Perhaps Peter and Riley were freaks. 

No, that was a rude thought. Perhaps they were unusual. 

So Caspian was really left with one primary option if he didn't want to appear totally out of place on his arrival in Klain: King Duncan. 

Approaching another man, let alone a monarch, for fashion advice was far afield of Caspian's experience or comfort. It felt ridiculous. 

But then, he didn't want to feel ridiculous when he arrived. 

On the other hand, the original Cetoan emissary and delegation hadn't mentioned feeling out of place… not that they would report such a thing. He should find Firth and ask him more about Klain in preparation for going. 

The fresh perspective would do him some good before he spoke with Duncan. If he spoke with Duncan about it at all. 

With an excuse to step out while Naomi cooked the evening meal, Caspian made quick work of locating the messenger who had gone to Klain. The emissary himself was of high enough stature to have joined his father and Roland on their journey. 

He hoped the voyage would go quickly and well, but his heart told him that likely wouldn't be the case. Edmar was clever in getting what he wanted, despite his appearance of being jovial and easy-going. 

Caspian knew that better than anyone else, growing up with him as an older brother. Perhaps he should have impressed sterner warnings on Roland before he left. Haf wouldn't have listened, thinking he knew both his sons better than anyone else. 

Haf had obviously been wrong on at least one count. 

Shaking his head, he found Firth's home and firmly knocked at the door. He didn't expect the man to be home this time of day as there was still plenty of daylight to do outdoor work. He scouted around and found the man repairing a length of fence that had blown over in some strong wind the night before. 

Caspian jumped in to catch a section that was in danger of tilting over again while Firth struggled to anchor it. 

"Thanks!" The man beamed breathlessly as he finished securing the post. "What brings you over my way?" 

"It's been decided," Caspian used the passive as he didn't particularly want to go, "that I should go to Klain to further the diplomacy between ourselves and the other nations. I was wondering if you had any advice… on what to wear?" 

It felt like an absolutely silly question, but now that Mayra had planted the idea in his head, he couldn't quite root it out. Maddening. 

Firth's brow furrowed in thought. 

"I think it gets quite cold there, in winter. I was told that people wear thick coats, with socks and shoes to keep from freezing. They have something called snow that covers the ground. I saw it from a distance on the mountaintops." 

"Snow?" Caspian tried out the vaguely familiar word. It got colder here in winter, and the crops didn't grow well in the absence of the sun, but he'd never seen the phenomenon Firth spoke of. 

"Yes. It is like rain, but it gets so cold it turns into something close to ice, but softer, and floats from the sky. It gathers on the ground, and so people wear the shoes to keep their feet from touching it and becoming frozen." Firth seemed to be concentrating on remembering. 

"You seem to have learned much during your time in Klain." Caspian observed. 

"I tried to gather all the information I could," Firth straightened to stand at attention. "I asked one of their men why the high mountains behind the city were white on top, and received all the explanations about snow." 

"So in your opinion… I should dress in accordance with this?" the Commodore's son squinted. 

"I would, I think." Firth shrugged. "But it is up to you, of course. Perhaps some of the Klain will be able to advise you more?" 

_______________

Roland breathed deeply of the sea air. What a different life the Cetoan men led! He gazed back where the shore had long since disappeared, and then took his place by Haf's side. 

His uncle was kind enough to be teaching him all about the ships, but he'd needed to step away for a moment to breathe deeply and settle his stomach. Haf had assured him that he would get used to the rolling motion of the ship as it went up and down with each wave.

That had been two days ago. The nights in a hammock had been difficult, and this morning was little better. 

The Commodore had smiled that the sea was 'gentle' today. Gentle! 

Roland looked up at the sky. It was broad and open here. The horizon seemed to stretch forever in all directions. It was almost terrifying to be so detached from solid ground. If the ship sank, no one would ever be able to swim far enough to see land again. At least, that was his assumption. 

Perhaps the Cetoans were far better swimmers than he knew. 

Haf resumed his discourse, quizzing Roland on the names of the masts and the types of sails, and Roland did his best to respond correctly. His uncle's education on the topic of seafaring was important either because it was a way to bond with his nephew (which Roland should honor), or to prepare Roland for a potential future as Commodore (which Roland wanted to reject outright but didn't know whether his wishes would be taken into consideration). 

Either way, the information was important for him to have if he wanted to make himself at all useful during this journey. Though he hadn't learned a single task as of yet, knowing the names of the things was an obvious precursor to knowing what to do about any of it. 

And so, Roland studiously took note of each part of the ship as Haf pointed it out, and recited it back. At the same time he wondered where exactly Jimmy had disappeared to. Almost the moment they came aboard, the quarter-halfing had made himself scarce, carrying his knapsack stuffed chock-full of heaven-knew-what. 

Roland had almost asked what it contained as they rowed from shore to the ship in the smaller rowboat, but Jimmy's warning glare had made him think twice about it. 

Let the little man keep his secrets, for now. He'd given up plenty of them the past few days simply by being constantly in the presence of others. Poor fellow was used to complete solitude, and it seemed his grumpy ways only intensified with the constant exposure to the human race. 

In truth it was mildly amusing watching Jimmy's discomfort, but Roland didn't dare so much as crack a smile. The man possessed unknown talents with herbs, and probably was not above making Roland equally as uncomfortable as a form of retribution for being laughed at. 

"And what do you look for when it comes to staring out to sea?" Haf quizzed as he indicated the man perched high in a barrel on the main mast. 

"The barrowman watches for all manner of things; land, foul weather, other ships, whales, sharks, schools of fish, and various signs of those." Roland didn't know what the 'various signs' were, but he recited the information anyway. "Anything of note that affects either the mission of the ship or its safety is called immediately." 

He paused and asked his own question.  "Do the barrowmen between ships work together and look in different directions?"

"They are not so near as to be able to shout to one another. Flags are the main form of communication between ships, and the barrowmen all look in every direction to cover all the sights thoroughly." Haf replied. 

Roland nodded, and squinted as he pointed to the ship on their starboard side. "What does that color flag mean?"