For the Honor of..

    It is a beautiful morning. The weather has finally started to turn a bit more like spring and a little less like a cruel attempt to strip skin with icy mountain air. The gardens are not green yet, but they are not gray anymore, either. Things are beginning to awaken in Eas.

    Uta has been sent a message. A summons, one might say, though just why she is being called is not specified. There are rumors and indications of preparations for the long-awaited wedding, and the castle is looking rather more dapper as efforts are re-directed to cleaning it thoroughly.

    In the midst of this, the Baroness is reviewing reports concerning the state of affairs in her lands, accompanied (for now) only by a steaming cup of tea.

Uta's traveller cart, a reconverted barrel with doors and windows on wheels (also with a little hinged ladder, and a hook for a lantern, and and and...) has been parked. Her Grunty, a larger-than-average speciman who, like all grunties, seems to have stolen clothes from Landers (in her case, it's some sort of maid uniform, a purple wig, and faux sylph wings out of some gauzy material, shimmering green) has been entrusted into the capable hands of Wake's stable personnel.

"Have you summoned me, Lady Bombast?", Uta asks, with a bow. "...that was you, right?" She turns to look sideways, and mumbles to herself. "It's either her or doc... and I'd hate to have messed up this time. Especially since I left Tolbana to come here."

But that little aside is quickly forgotten, as the Spriggan approaches the Baroness. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

    Roused from her musings, Elly sets aside the concerns of state and rises smoothly. She does not curtsey to her friend, but moves close and hugs her. That greeting is going to catch on, somehow!

    "I have called on you, yes! I am delighted you were able to make the journey, Uta. There is a personal matter of great importance that I need to discuss with you."

    She moves to slip an arm around Uta, the better to lead her towards the table at which Elly had been sitting.

    "Please, take a seat and be comfortable. Are you rested? Have you eaten?"

    Notably, there are clean teacups at the table. Which fits well with the next question, "Would you care for some matcha? It's from last season, but I assure you it has not lost its potency."

Once again, Uta more 'receives and politely reciprocates' the hug more than reveling in it, but... you know, Japanese culture. Not as much into physical contact.

"A... personal matter?", she asks while scratching her head, as she's lead to her designated place. She sits down, hands on her knees. "I am not at risk of spontaneously falling conscious any time soon, and- uh... let me check." She looks down at her stomach. "Hey, down there, how's the grub level?" Silence. Uta edges one of her pointy ears closer, wiht a narrowed squint. Silence again. "No complaints or particularly loud gurgles," she concludes, "so I suppose the gastrointestinal situation is currently satisfactory. Digestion progressing without hinderances. As eupeptic as it gets."

"Please, I'd love to try some matcha." She looks in the distance, hands back on her knees. "I've been hanging out with Soujiro Seta of late. Training. He rekindled my interest in green tea..."

    "I imagine he would. He is a wonderful guest. He and his party of gentle-hearted ladies and a cluck-cluck visited not so many weeks ago. I hope they do return again sometime. The girls seemed particularly delighted to enjoy a royal treatment."

    She settles in to the task of preparing the tea. The western embrace now gives way to the stiff formality and attentive artistry of a tea ceremony. Elly may know little of how tea is raised or ends up reaching her pantry, but she has nearly unrivalled mastery of getting it from there into a cup. For a time, she is silently working at preparing the drink. When it is ready, she settles it before Uta and bows.

    The tea prepared, she can sit down once more and get back to the conversation. "As I was saying, it is a personal matter that I have called you for. Frankly, that we have called you for. You see, the time is fast approaching for the wedding. We have decided to have a June wedding. Tae and I would like you to be our maid of honor."

"Oh, yes. The ladies. They did not seem very happy the first time they saw me engaging in conversation with Soujiro. I suspect it's because I was not wearing a hat at the time. Mikage was right, hats are considered important in this world."

Uta may have mentioned this in the past, and if not, Wake will certainly have picked it up by now. As someone with the Doctor profession, Uta's Adventurer was gifted with points in her Etiquette stat. And due to the strange rules of this world, this resulted in Uta being a 'natural' for this sort of thing and quickly soaking up the needed knowledge.

Knowledge that now can be seen in her composture, the precise adherence to the ritual, and... the subtle signals of awe at Wake's skill. Being skilled enough in Etiquette to be above average gives one a better perspective of the heights she's staring into.

The ceremony goes without a hitch until the moment when Uta, taking a mindful sip from her cup, almost chokes on the liquid at the request.

"M-maid of honour?!" she stutters. "I... I don't think I'm qualified!", she exclaims, as, somehow, she manages to both pale and blush at the same time. "I... I've never been a maid of honour! I- I wouldn't know where to begin!", she begins to panic. "What does a maid of honor even do?"

And then, as the Uta is very easily distracted, let alone excellent at distracting herself, she seamlessly segues into a more rambly, "...I didn't know that June had the authority of celebrate weddings. Uh. Did our mutual Gorgon Librarian friend acquire the official capacity to bind people in marriage?" She scratches her head with a frown. "I mean, it's not even the strangest consequence of a getting plastered I've heard of...."

Yup, that's enough to subdue the blushing.

    Watching Uta being Uta is one of the most wonderful pleasures of being in this world. The leaps of logic mixed with shocked misunderstanding is a wondrous cocktail. For a time, Elly just lets it go. After all, Uta needs to relieve the pressure of her busy mind somehow.

    "The maid of honor's main job is to walk across a room while carrying flowers," she explains. "She then stands and pays attention to the ceremony and then walks back out of the room. There are some small rituals attached to the role, but that is the heart of it." She very pointedly does not mention any speech or dancing. Not yet, anyway.

    "As for the ceremony itself, I do not know who will preside. It may be unnecessary, since I am a priestess. I could ask Prophylaxis to fulfill that role, as well. June is the month of the wedding."

    She takes a drink of tea to still her mind, though she gives no sign of being anything but utterly calm and relaxed. Perhaps Uta's energies are more than she has grown accustomed to. The young woman does operate on a most unique wavelength, after all.

"...Oh. Carrying flowers, I can do. Walking out of the room, piece of cake. Small rituals, doesn't sound too hard. Now... -paying attention-." She frowns. "My arch-nemesis...", she mutters in a low voice, squinting to look at each side, in turn. "Buuuut I'm sure we can arrange something. I mean, I suppose that I can burn one of these babies," she says, reaching into her belt and pulling out a crystal. "Doctor Prophylaxis's medication for wandering minds. Just what the doctor ordered. Literally."

"Doesn't sound too hard, no...", Uta continues, still holding that crystal vertical, and tapping her lips with the index finger of her other hand, while she looks up and away. "...I thought it'd have been worse."

Some time passes, she blinks, and suddenly returns to reality. "Oh. Uh. Incidentally... I'm... humbled you picked me. As said, I'm not entierely sure of what the role entails... but based on what little I know, being picked for it inovlves a high degree of trust, respect, and.... closeness. You just don't pick -any random friend- for that kind of thing, but a special friend at least. It's... a honor. really."

    "You are a close, special friend, Uta," notes Elly. She wants to hug her friend, but it's clear that Uta hasn't quite gotten around to enjoying that kind of thing. Not yet, anyway. New standards of etiquette will take a few decades to instill. So there's time!

    "Oh, and there is a dress to wear. But honestly, we'd like you to select on yourself. I'm sure you and Gwen can come up with something that suits you and fits the general idea of a wedding ceremony."

    Yes, Uta does have to enter that dragon's den. Fashion with Gwen. But at this point, Uta's survived that experience many times, so it can't be that big of a deal, right?

    With that out there, though, Elly will just be content in the notion that Uta has, apparently accepted. Still, she eventually puts it simply. "Does this mean you will do it?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, sounds easy enough, of course I will- wait."

Plunge-zoom in towards Uta, with wooshing sound effect. The scene changes.

A dungeon, a rocky cave illuminated by the flickering flame of wooden torches hanging from the wall. Uta is advancing cautiously through narrow corridors, looking circumspect at each corridor, until, back flattened against the stone, she cranes her neck past the current pillar and-

Everyone at this point recognizes a boss room. A loot of shiny gold and silver discs and jewels is piled on the floor, and atop it -- a dragon, a magnificent reature whose metallic scales glitsen majestic in the scant illumination produced by the flame. Except that as the camera gets closer and closer, it turns out that the boss is not a -actually- dragon -- it is Gwen, in an armor composed of metallic scales meant to resemble a dragon's scales, standing atop a pile of buttons, silver, gold, and with inset baubles.

The name text reads << Gwen The Fashion Dragon >>, and inspects as having the 'I' Icon, the 'wings' icon, and the 'M' icon. Also as a black-level threat.

"AaaaAaaaAaAaAAaaaAA", wails Uta as all color drains from her face.

"Uta!", exclaims Gwen as she recognizes the Spriggan, and whips out a giant needle in place of a sword. "I'm having ideas already!"

Uta darts for her life. A chase ensues.

Soar-zoom out, with corrseponding reverse wooshing sound effect.

"I wasn't expecting dresses to be involved! I- I- I have accepted already, haven't I?", Uta mumbles, sticking her hands between her knees like someone who's resigned to her fate of having been maneuvered exactly where someone else wanted. Ridiculously high ranks in Etiquette, it seems, serve practical purposes.

    "Fear not, if Gwen is too much for you, I can simply get your measurements and make the design. It would be a western dress, lovely, but not immodest, if you leave it to me."

    Elly finds the dread of fashion to be a fascinating and bizarre thing. She adores Gwen's work and loves the entire process. It's likely she's spent more on clothes than any other two adventurers, so she may be biased.

    "There are a couple things I must attend to quickly, but I will stay in touch, and if you are able to stay for a few days, we can share many happy meetings. Tae will definitely be cooking to celebrate. She is quite excited at the prospect of you joining our wedding party."

    Before Uta can backtrack, Elly is able to slip away. She's still got those stealth ninja instincts, it seems. At least when they are convenient. She even manages to slip in a hug on the way.