I dressed in the Valdrake formal at eight.
Master Vord had the garments arranged in the bedroom Drakeveil's senior household staff had assigned me — Valdrake colors in the Imperial weight the heir of record wore for institutional filings, drawn from the family's Thornhaven holdings in the Valdrake townhouse three districts west and brought to the Drakeveil estate by closed courier yesterday afternoon. The cut was twenty years old. Cedric had not worn this set in his life. The patriarch's heir at sixteen had worn the lesser formal — a category of dress permitted to heirs who had not yet filed in their own institutional voice. The greater formal, the one in front of me on the bedroom's stand, was the cut for an heir who had decided to speak at the Senate.
I put it on.
