Gold vanishes into the coffers of merchants while the common folk trade coppers for bread. I’m skeptical, but a lady might find her armor in a simple bolt of cloth from Roman without surrendering her family’s legacy to the Iron Bank. The Daily Mirror chronicled the arrival of this viscose garment during the final weeks of February. Petals of crimson and ivory erupt across the breastplate of the fabric. The merchant lowered the toll from forty-five sovereigns to thirty-five.
Steel needles pierced the weave at the midsection to ensure the silhouette mimics a spearhead. The neckline dives low toward the heart. Broad shoulders yield to a skirt that billows when the northern winds howl through the corridors. This construction masks the swell of the belly after a night of ale and roasted capon. The skirt forms a Great Ring to permit the legs to stride through the grass of the gardens. While the lords of the great houses squander their fortunes on threads of spun gold that tear at the first touch of a sword-belt, this raiment survives the heat of the hearth and the humidity of the midsummer ball.
The weave clings to the ribs. It releases its grip at the navel. A woman enters the courtyard and the sun catches the petals on the cloth. The season of rebirth demands hues that rival the meadows of the Reach. The stitching holds firm against the rigors of the dance. Hope blooms alongside the flowers on the skirt as the winter fades into memory.
Extra Perk
Deep pockets hide within the folds of the skirt. A woman might carry a dagger or a secret missive without a soul noticing the bulge against her thigh. The fabric survives the churn of the wash-basin without losing its vibrant soul. It dries in the breath of the morning breeze. This gown serves the queen at the feast and the maiden in the market.
Explore the collection at Roman or read the original scroll at The Daily Mirror.
People Also Ask
Does the fabric wrinkle during a long carriage ride?
The viscose weave defies the creases of the road. A traveler emerges from the litter looking as fresh as a rose in the Kingswood. The weight of the cloth pulls the wrinkles toward the earth.
Will the colors fade after the first moon?
The dyes saturate the fibers deep into the marrow of the thread. Sun and rain fail to bleach the blossoms. The gown retains its luster even after the fires of the kitchen have dimmed.
Is the fit true to the measurements of the Citadel?
The waist offers a stretch that accommodates the body through every season. It clings where strength is needed. It flows where comfort is required.
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