Rosaline led the three sisters through a second set of double doors and into a large private salon at the back of the establishment.

The room was clearly reserved for the highest-ranking clients. Sunlight poured through tall arched windows draped in cream silk, bathing everything in a warm golden gentlee glow. Mannequins stood along the walls dressed in half-finished gowns, while long tables were covered with fabric samples, ribbons, lace, pearls, embroidery sketches, and books filled with elegant designs.

Several women were already waiting inside, all of them members of Rosaline’s staff, standing neatly in line with measuring tapes, writing ledgers, and folded swatches held in their hands.

The moment the sisters entered, the women lowered their heads respectfully.

Rosaline turned around gracefully and faced them with a composed smile.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," she said. "Today is not merely about taking measurements. We must first understand what suits each of you best. A royal banquet is not the place for a gown that is only beautiful. It must flatter your figure, reflect your station, and leave the proper impression."

As she spoke, two attendants hurried forward to pull out cushioned chairs for the girls near the central table. Airam sat first without a word. Hermione followed with her chin lifted high, trying to look accustomed to such treatment. Esther hesitated for a brief moment before carefully sitting down as well, her hands folding together on her lap.

Rosaline observed them all in silence for a few seconds, assessing with her keen eyes what would be fitting best for them.

Hermione was easy to read at a glance. Beauty, pride, vanity, and enough confidence to carry something bold. Esther was softer, brighter, delicate in a way that invited gentler styling. Airam, however...

Rosaline’s gaze lingered on the eldest sister slightly longer.

There was something dark yet delicate with her features, and still, like a midnight lake with no moon reflected on its surface. Even sitting quietly, Airam possessed a strange intensity that made the room feel subtly colder. Rosaline had dressed noblewomen all her life and had long learned how to read presence before words. This one had an aura that did not ask for attention and yet drew it anyway. It would be difficult to soften her. More likely, the gown would have to embrace that darkness without letting it become improper.

’Interesting,’ Rosaline thought, smiling.

With a small motion of her hand, she signaled the staff to begin. At once, books of designs, trays of colored fabric, and sets of prepared sketches were laid across the broad table before the sisters.

"These," Rosaline said, opening the first book, "are silhouettes suitable for a royal banquet. Full skirts, layered structures, and fitted bodices are standard, though there is room for variation according to age, rank, and personal charm."

She turned the pages one by one, revealing elegant sketches inked with remarkable precision. Some gowns had sweeping trains embroidered with silver thread. Others were lighter and younger in spirit, adorned with delicate floral motifs on the sleeves or waist. A few were more stately, regal almost, designed to attract a room the moment the wearer stepped into it.

Esther leaned forward timidly, her blue eyes wide with fascination.

Hermione, by contrast, quickly recovered from her initial surprise and began looking through the sketches with visible interest, as though she had been waiting for this moment all morning.

Airam sat back in her chair and watched in silence.

Rosaline picked up several squares of silk and satin, arranging them by shade. "Color will matter just as much as design. The wrong color can swallow a face or cheapen a fine cut. The right one can elevate everything."

She first turned to Esther, perhaps sensing she would be the least likely to interrupt.

"Lady Esther," Rosaline said gently, "what colors are you drawn to?"

Esther startled a little when addressed so directly. "M-Me?"

"Of course." Rosaline smiled. "This gown will be made for you. You may speak freely."

Esther looked down at the rows of samples spread before her. Her fingers hovered uncertainly over pink, then cream, then a soft green. For a second, she looked as if she might withdraw her hand entirely.

Then, in a quieter voice, she said, "I... I think I like blue."

Hermione turned to stare at her. "Again blue?"

Esther immediately shrank a little in her seat. "Is it strange?"

"No," Rosaline answered before Hermione could. "Not at all."

She reached for several shades at once and laid them in front of Esther, pale blue, deep sapphire, soft powder blue, and a richer blue touched with silver undertones.

"Blue can be youthful, graceful, or noble depending on the shade," Rosaline explained. "For you, I would avoid anything too cold. Something luminous would suit you better."

Esther looked down at them with growing wonder. Her fingertips lightly brushed a clear, delicate blue silk, and a tiny smile appeared on her lips.

"This one..." She said.

Rosaline noticed it at once. "Yes. That is a lovely instinct."

Hermione crossed her arms. "If she is getting blue, then I want red."

Her tone was confident enough that several attendants glanced at one another.

Rosaline turned to her, not displeased in the slightest. "A bold choice, Lady Hermione."

"It suits me," Hermione said, lifting her chin.

Rosaline’s mouth curved faintly. "Yes. It does."

She selected samples in crimson, wine red, garnet, and a darker red with almost black undertones, then held them up one by one against Hermione’s silver hair and fair skin, studying the contrast with a professional eye.

"Bright scarlet would be too loud," Rosaline said at last. "It would wear you rather than the opposite. But a deeper red... yes. That could be very catching."

Hermione looked openly pleased by that.

Airam, on the other hand, had not touched a single fabric.

Rosaline turned toward her last. "And you, Lady Airam?"

Airam’s gaze moved over the table only once before she answered. "Black."

A small silence followed.

Several attendants lowered their eyes at once, pretending not to react.

Rosaline remained outwardly composed, though her brows rose just slightly. "Black," she repeated.

"Yes."

Rosaline folded her hands before her. "It is not impossible to work with black, but it is generally not considered appropriate for a royal birthday banquet. It can be associated with mourning, severity, or provocation, depending on the court."

Airam did not look troubled in the slightest. "I want black."

Hermione let out a sigh. "Of course you do."

Rosaline’s gaze sharpened thoughtfully as she scanned Airam again. Black truly would fit her. Too well, perhaps. But there were ways around such problems.

"Pure black would be improper," Rosaline said carefully. "However... a gown built on very deep tones could still achieve the effect you want. Midnight blue, obsidian, charcoal overlayering, black embroidery, dark beadwork. There are elegant solutions."

Airam gave the slightest nod. "Then do that."

Rosaline smiled then, a little more genuinely. "Very well. We shall honor the spirit of your preference without insulting the occasion."

That seemed to satisfy Airam.

For the next stretch of time, the room came to life. Rosaline and her staff moved around the table, presenting sleeve cuts, bodice styles, trains, collars, gloves, and embroidery patterns. They explained what sort of jewels worked with each neckline, what hairstyles would complement each silhouette, and which fabrics fell best under candlelight in grand halls. The sisters were encouraged to touch the materials, ask questions, and reject what displeased them.

Esther remained shy at first, often glancing at her sisters before speaking, but little by little she found her voice. She asked whether pearl embroidery would be too mature for her. She wondered if sleeves had to be long. She nervously admitted she liked delicate silver details shaped like stars. Every time she spoke, Rosaline answered her seriously, never once making her feel childish.

Hermione, unsurprisingly, had far fewer reservations.

"No, not that one," she said at one point, dismissing a sketch with a flick of her fingers. "The neckline is too modest."

Rosaline did not even blink. "For a young lady attending a royal banquet under the Count’s protection, modesty is not a flaw."

"I did not say it was a flaw," Hermione replied. "I said it was too modest."

One of the attendants nearly choked trying to suppress a sound, and Rosaline hid a smile behind her hand.

"You have strong opinions," she observed.

"I have eyes," Hermione said, looking away.

"Yes," Rosaline replied, "and fortunately, so do I. We shall make sure your gown is memorable for the right reasons."

Hermione huffed, though she looked more satisfied than offended.

Airam, unlike the others, asked very little. But when she did speak, it was rather direct.

"No flowers."

"No bright stones."

"No ribbons."

Rosaline accepted each demand without resistance, mentally reworking sketches and combinations in her head. It was becoming increasingly clear that Airam’s gown would have to rely on shape, texture, and subtle detailing rather than decoration. There was something almost strict in the way the girl rejected softness. Yet Rosaline was beginning to enjoy the challenge.

At one point, while a seamstress laid out several layers of blue silk in front of Esther, the youngest sister glanced up timidly.

"Madame Rosaline...?"

Rosaline turned toward her at once. "Yes, Lady Esther?"

Esther hesitated, twisting a corner of her sleeve between her fingers. "How... how do you know Lord Ulrich?"

Hermione’s gaze flicked up, too, though she pretended otherwise. Even Airam looked over.

Rosaline’s smile changed, becoming faintly amused.

"The Count has been ordering tailored clothing from this establishment for years," she answered. "Formal coats, riding attire, ceremonial ensembles, banquet wear. He values refinement, and he has always preferred garments made precisely to measure rather than purchased ready-made." She glanced around the room with quiet pride. "He chooses this house because he likes our style, and because we offer the finest work in the city."

Esther’s eyes brightened. "So he really comes here often?"

"Often enough," Rosaline said. "Though never for idle reasons."

Hermione looked away at once, pretending to be deeply invested in a tray of garnet-colored beads.

Airam, meanwhile, simply took in the answer in silence. It sounded exactly like Ulrich: precise, demanding, and unwilling to settle for mediocrity.

Rosaline clapped her hands lightly, drawing the room back into motion. "Now then. We have enough to begin proper drafting. Next, we will take full measurements and prepare initial fitting models. By the time you leave today, each of you will have the foundation of a gown worthy of entering the royal hall."

The attendants stepped forward at once with ribbons, pins, notebooks, and measuring tapes.

Esther swallowed.

Hermione straightened.

Airam looked faintly irritated already.

And in the middle of the bright salon, surrounded by silk, whispers, and careful hands, the three sisters began the first true shaping of the royal images Ulrich intended to present to the world.