The trio of renowned tailors stared at her with something bordering on incredulity and offense. How dare this small, strange lady not know their names and their great works of art?! Who is she to not know who they are! The only reason they didn't burst into angry rambling is their host sorcerer's righthand servant glaring at them, and the knowledge that this strange foreign girl was very definitely foreign, and likely a somewhat uneducated peasant. 

"We will have you know," thrusted their leader, as if her words were a battering ram of indignation, "That we are some of the Allied Lands [i]most[/i] renowned designers!"

The lefthand side pitched in, "We are the true trendsetters! Whenever anyone wants to break the current trends and make an entirely new one, they come to us!"

The righthand added, "And with darling Sunder giving us enchanted fabrics and enchantments, we can make our styles however we want, and be strong enough to turn a sword!"

They all beamed at each other, so inflated they were with their own pride.

From the back, Priscilla coughed, catching their attentions.

"Sunder said to outfit her. Simply, no enchantments. Stop your babbling."

The three immediately grew sober, one paling slightly, before nodding their heads and silently scattering across the room. It took maybe ten minutes for them to take her measurements, and throw several [color=lightsteelblue]steel blue[/color] robes at her, followed by two pairs of shoes.

One of them, as they ushered Priscilla and her charge out of the room, said, "Everything else will be provided by Whitehall, if you're going there." The second one handed Priscilla a fine cloth backpack, and they were out of the sobered tailor's clutches at last!

The tailor's doors shut with an unceremonious clang behind them.

Priscilla glanced at her charge, and asked, "Tailors are usually like that."

Turning around, still holding the pack, she stared down the singular long hallway- where before the tailor's room was set into the wall, this time it appeared to be at the end of the hallway. And, almost as casually as Priscilla took in the way the hallway had switched, she turned to their left and pushed her way through another doorway, emerging into another corridor. Like before, she started walking straight down it. Servants passed, going both directions, the destination behind each door changing every time it opened.

Turning to face Jazelle as they came to a courtyard of sorts, the walls rising for another six stories before the sky peeks through, she huffed somewhat.

"Alright, Jazelle. I was not instructed on anything else to do beyond the tailors, and until lunch, it appears that we have free time. I honestly expected the tailors to take longer; they are not usually so easily cowed. Do you have any ideas of what you wish to do?"