Arik dressed in the formal clothing the Nurian palace staff had prepared for him after lunch because none of them had crossed the Gate with luggage, spare uniforms, or anything beyond what they had been wearing when they passed through the gate.
The attendants had worked quickly once the council summons arrived, taking measurements while the physicians replaced the seals around his hands and returning with an outfit that fit with suspicious accuracy.
The long coat was black, cut closely across his shoulders before falling almost to his knees, with dark green panels worked into the sides and restrained lines of old gold embroidery following the collar, cuffs, and fastening. Beneath it sat a high-collared shirt of softer black fabric and a narrow ceremonial belt bearing Nuria's imperial crest.
There was nothing Agaronian about it.
That disturbed him more than it should have.
