"You're forgetting who is the conspicuous one here," He pointed out. "It isn't exactly my job, you know, to take care of you. I'm rather enjoying the culture of Riverslade. If you weren't with me, I could likely live here the rest of my life just fine." Giving the tigress validation for her comments about lovesickness would only fuel her hatred. "I'm far from distracted, dear. I'm likely more conscious than you right now." The woman seemed quite unimpressed and decided to share what she had found. Lykos nodded, surprised she actually had been useful for anything but being a map of the city. She was so shortsighted though...

"With that?" He asked, looking skeptically at the gold. "With that, you're going to buy the fine clothes and silks of nobles to wear over gear that we need to have for departure? With [I]that[/I] you're going to buy the mask you need to get in? Pathetic. You tote yourself as the greatest warrior in Riverslade, but you don't even seem to have an inkling of an idea whatk ind of clothes to wear in the presence of a king when you can't don your armour." His voice was low and condescending, a soft growl hidden behind it, "You're lost without being a soldier. You could get away with formal clothing for a king, but this is his daughter's birthday. Do you have any idea what a slap in the face he'll think it is if you show up in anything less than the best? I don't doubt he'd throw his own wife out of the party if she didn't go above and beyond the public's expectations."

He rubbed the bridge of his muzzle between his eyes with a sigh, "Look. Here's what we'll do. Go take care of the things you need - however you need to. We're not getting much done being stuck here together. I'll handle my own clothes, my mask, and any gear I need. We'll meet back at the inn," He explained.

Once the issue had been settled, Shar found himself in a tailor shop with a measuring tape across his shoulders, then his legs, his arms, his neck... He never felt comfortable in these situations. His body was covered in scars, but the tailor didn't ask any questions because he had walked in with an officer's cloak on. The most notable amongst these was one large one, cutting across his fur from right shoulder to his lower left ribs.

"So, attending the princess's party this week? Cutting it a little late to get your clothes, aren't you, lad?" The old tailor asked. He was a a lynx of small stature, a slightly hunched back, and a modest living. He did fantastic work, but his business was unlucky in its location, so he didn't get much nobility to work for - mostly making one-time, semi-formal attire for upper-middle class families.

Shar nodded, "Indeed. I was told so long as I could afford to clothe myself finely, I could attend."

"Oh, I'm very excited... That young girl has been growing up before my very eyes... I watched the king do the same... I haven't been asked to make anything for the event yet... In fact, this is likely all I'll be able to do for it - my doors are closing in just a few weeks," He explained with a wistful smile.

Lykos perked an eyebrow, "Why's that?"

"Oh... my old hands are starting to shake... I'm losing track of the things I finish and don't finish... I can't keep track of those books anymore either - the taxes are getting more complicated every year... you know, when my father was showing me how to run this place as a boy, things were so simple... But now, you have to keep track of every little thing you do... It's time for me to retire... I've a boy who lives on the river out west... He's offered me a place with him and his family... He's been insisting for years, but I just couldn't leave my work... But it'll be nice... a warm bed, a peaceful village... A cozy place to die... Excuse my rudeness, but I think I've deserved that now... Maybe I'll learn to fish..." He rambled on contently and Shar dared not interrupt the musings of an old man.

As the measuring was all finished and recorded, Shar took a seat across from the tailor, who had begun talking about his grandchildren, and how his granddaughter was already pregnant with her second kit. He was a proud man without being vain...

As he seemed finished, nearly an hour later, Lykos rose to his feet. "I haveto be going - I'll stop by again tonight, yes?" The old man smiled warmly at him.

"Yes, sir, it'll be finished... If you'd rather come tomorrow, that's fine, I can always hang onto it over night."

"That won't be necessary - I'm never late if I can help it. But I appreciate all of your help... I don't believe I caught your name..."

"Maron... Maron Amir." The lynx replied with a nod, "And yours?"

Shar paused for a moment... could he lie to this old man? No, he decided. "Lykos... Lykos Shar."

"Shar... I know that name..." The man replied slowly... "Hmm... Are you related to Troy?"

Lykos blinked, his eyes wide, "You knew my great grandfather?"

The lynx laughed, "Troy knew everybody - and I'm a very old man... I told you. Besides, used to be that there weren't quite so many in the world. Troy was a world-renowned fighter, and the borders weren't quite so closed back then. I'd had no idea that he brought the Shars over here... I thought you all would have stayed in the army..."

"We... have, Maron... But when the wars started, sides needed to be clear, allegiance needed to be proven, and my great grandfather worked very hard to keep our name clean... Lot of good it did, with me slandering the Shar name since I was a boy."

"Oh, you're a good man, Lykos. Even I can see it, and my mind's cloudier every day. I don't think there's much you could do to shame your name."

Lykos laughed and shook his head, "I suppose some things are better left undiscussed... Mister Amir... it was a pleasure meeting you - I'll see you again this evening... Perhaps you could tell me more of Troy then, yes?"

"I look forward to it, lad..." He said shakily, clearly winded just from the discussion. Shar pushed out the door after putting his light armour and cloak back on, a bit refreshed from the warm atmosphere of the tailor's shop and the coincidence of meeting likely the one person in the entire nation still alive that would know the name Troy Shar.

The mask was an easy acquisition. He got a simple, burgundy mask with a false golden scale pattern along the muzzle. The mask was fitted for a wolf's head, but looked like a dragon's mask - a bit unique, but something festive would make him less conspicuous for the occasion. He paid cash for it, it was inexpensive, but looked authentic and would serve its purpose. Finally... a few minor tools would be necessary. Shar strode into a back alley in an officer's cloak, his sword at his hip, his mask in his empty hand. He'd been in enough cities and worked in seedy areas often enough to know exactly what to look for.

Two men and a woman - a bear, a fox, and a panther respectively - stopped him midway through the alley. They wore cheap leathers and were just the shadiest bunch you could imagine.

"Well, well... looks like one of our city's beloved guards has come in to pay us a visit. What a kind thought of him..." The panther purred.

Shar didn't flinch, his hand rested softly on the hilt of his blade. "I've come to see if you have anything of use to me. Not information, and I'm not taking you away. I need things and you're not the greatest at hiding your little shop's location. His head cocked slightly over his shoulder to address the pair behind him - as the bear was to his front - "Your fox is clearly the one who carries the inventory. The bear is security, and you're the shopkeeper. Simple triad setup - very good. But don't even push my patience or I'll walk off with your entire shop for free." He turned his back on the bear, "I'm not hiding anything from you. I'm a Lorian blademaster as well as an expert in several other styles. Your backalley fighting isn't going to help you at all."

"Threatening us? Well, I think we shou-"

"Stop. It's not a threat. it's a warning. Do you have lockpicks? I need a couple of questionable chemicals too - any of those?"

"... What kinda chemicals?" the panther asked.

"The kind that'll put someone to sleep," He snapped his fingers, "Like that."

"Yeah, but it'll cost ya."

"We'll negotiate."

--- A few hours later ----

Shar arrived back at the tailor's shop. He had a small pack with his mask and a few of the items purchased in the alley in it. He rapped thrice upon the door... No answer. Poor old man must have fallen asleep or lost track of time. He knocked harder a few more times and cleared his throat, "Maron? Mister Amir?" He called out. Nothing. The door opened - it wasn't locked..? They should have been closed... "... Maron? Hello?"

He began to poke his head around the shop, but couldn't find anybody. The flight of stairs, he assumed, led up to the old man's room. He noticed his own outfit had actually been finished and hung up in the open, but he ignored it for now. Shar's heart was racing as he climbed the stairs quickly, opening ever door. Fabrics and clothes lined all of those rooms... Except one. A simple room. It had a bed, and a desk, and... On the bed, what was that? Shar slowly approached, "Mister Amir?" He asked. No response. When he turned the lump over, he stumbled backward and covered his mouth. Why was he so rattled? The man was... dead, sure, but... How old was he?

Shar quickly began to do the math... At least eighty years old... But why today? Why not in a few weeks? He wanted nothing more than to die peacefully... He could have made it a few more weeks - to see his family, at least, yes? His eyes were closed. It looked like he knew, even before death, that falling asleep would mark his departure. He was smiling...

Shar covered the man's face - he'd seen enough death in his life, he just... wasn't expecting it. A lone, leatherbound book lie on the desk, it was actually clasped shut... He shouldn't have, but he did. Shar opened the book and flicked a few pages. Each was marked with a date and filled with handwriting that gradually grew more shaky and harder to read until the very last one. He didn't have time now, but he stole it. He had to - curiosity. He placed it in his bag and returned to the bottom floor, taking his new formal wear. Folding it neatly to hide it in his pack before heading back for the inn, a bit sullen after the day.