True to his word, Tiral had delivered the mistress to the Captain following his own studies, and, as he had expected, was told that he was going to be dragged along for formalities' sake. The thinly-veiled look of irritation was soon followed by one of dejected acceptance. An order like this wasn't something he was in any position to contest, and though he would have preferred to become something more useful to the Knights as a whole, this occasion seemed to take a higher priority to his superiors.

So the afternoon passed without incident as the ice mage returned to his room to find some sort of outfit that might possibly make himself look passable in any sense of the word. Even if he was a member of the Iron Rose, his origins were still low enough that it was likely that people would look down on him. That plus the fact that he funneled more money into research materials and magical equipment (that dagger sure as hell wasn't cheap, after all!) meant that was was somewhat... Unprepared for the event.

With a sigh, the ice mage dug through his own wardrobe, praying that there might have been something in there that would not let him be the laughingstock of the event. By some miracle, at least, there seemed to be some sort of clothing in that shallow closet that he called his own that wasn't picked out solely for comfort or utility. A pair of dress pants and some sort of shirt that looked... [i]Sort of[/i] fancy? There was also a pair of shoes that didn't look like they had seen the hell of a battlefield lying around...

So at the very least, he wasn't going to look like a COMPLETE fool.

[hr]
With his dagger concealed under his shirt and an annoyed expression that betrayed his current opinion on the matter, Tiral continued walking calmly behind the rest of the entourage. Everyone else seemed to have deeper pockets and more frivolous spending habits than he did (given how [i]fancy[/i] everyone else seemed to look now), which ended up making the ice mage unsure how how much or how little he stood out. It'd be best if he could blend into the background during this ordeal, but given the invitation (and judging by how Sir Ian was currently being mobbed by women) the chances of that seemed very unlikely.

Before he could even try to do so, however, Tiral caught a glimpse of the Captain being...
...
Did that count as sexual harassment?

"...Uh... I... I'm not going to ask..." he sighed, turning away and shaking his head as the group entered the venue. It was every bit as grand as Tiral had expected, and though he was still averse to even come here in the first place, it wouldn't have been a lie to say he was impressed by the grandeur of it all.
...
Now, if only had this been under different circumstances might he not have been so irritable. Social gatherings were like the bane of his existence. The heat, the sweat, the [i]superficiality[/i] of it all...
At least magicians told you when you screwed up. With these people, everything was all veiled behind smoke and mirrors.