Flint

The carriage rolled to a stop on a bustling street, the late afternoon sky glowing in hues of orange and gold.

Flint stepped down, followed by Willie, who had changed into a sleek black outfit from head to toe before leaving the palace. Without a word, he strode toward a tailor shop, its warm light spilling onto the street.

Inside, an old tailor was meticulously measuring the sleeve of a suit when the bell above the door chimed. Lifting his head, he saw two tall figures approach.

Willie offered a small, easy smile. "Philip, I've come for my new suit."

Philip chuckled, pausing his work. "You have good timing."

He opened the fitting room door, revealing the finished suit Willie had requested. "Try it on."

With unhurried steps, Willie entered the fitting room. A few moments later, he emerged, clad in the impeccably tailored suit. Standing before the long mirror, he adjusted the cuffs and straightened the lapels.