Dorian took his servants into one of the finest clothing shops in the city.
The place was bustling with life, its walls lined with shimmering robes of silk and fine linen, each piece embroidered with patterns that spoke of status and wealth.
The scent of perfume and new fabric filled the air, mingling with the soft chatter of nobles and their attendants.
The servants followed closely behind, hesitant and out of place.
Alvin, in particular, felt his throat tighten when he caught sight of the prices displayed near the garments.
He could hardly believe his eyes.
"Isn't this… too expensive, Master?" Alvin finally asked, his voice trembling as he looked around in disbelief.
"Just one of these robes could feed us for a whole year…" His calloused fingers brushed against the hem of a robe, and he quickly drew them back as if afraid to stain it.
Dorian glanced at him with a faint smile.
"You belong to the honorable House of Axe now, Alvin," he said.
"From this day onward, you and your siblings represent me. Nothing is too expensive if it upholds the dignity of our name."
He paused for a moment, his tone softening.
"And besides, I'd rather see you clothed properly than walking around in rags. Remind me to buy a carriage and a few good horses after this. We'll need them if we plan to move freely around the city. Calling for rides every time is a waste of effort."
The servants exchanged bewildered glances.
They could not understand how their master could speak of such luxuries so casually.
To them, even owning a mule was a faraway dream—and yet Dorian spoke as though horses and carriages were mere tools, easily acquired.
Three hours later, after visiting several more shops and having the servants properly fitted, they stood before their new carriage.
It gleamed under the afternoon sun—black lacquered wood with golden trimmings, the crest of the House of Axe freshly engraved on its sides.
Two well-bred white horses stood proudly at the front, their manes braided and adorned with silver bells that chimed softly in the breeze.
Dorian inspected the craftsmanship with satisfaction before motioning for Alvin to take the driver's seat.
"You'll handle the reins," he said. "It'll be good practice."
"Yes, Master," Alvin replied quickly, though his hands trembled as he took hold of the leather straps.
Inside the carriage, the seats were soft and cushioned, far beyond anything the servants had ever experienced.
The two boys sat across from Dorian, their eyes wide with wonder.
They had never imagined that life could feel this luxurious—the smooth motion of the wheels, the faint scent of polished wood, and the quiet creak of leather.
Dorian leaned back, watching them with a small, knowing smile.
To him, this was only the beginning. Comfort was not a sin—it was a sign of progress.
Hailey, however, remained silent. She sat near the window, her posture rigid, her eyes fixed on the passing streets.
Unlike her brothers, she did not allow herself to relax.
There was something unreadable in her expression—caution, suspicion, perhaps even fear.
She was grateful, yes, but she could not yet bring herself to trust this man whom she knew nothing about.
Dorian noticed her silence but said nothing.
As the carriage rolled down the busy street, Dorian allowed himself a moment of quiet satisfaction.
The eyes of commoners turned toward them in awe and envy.
To them, he appeared as a young master of noble birth, surrounded by his attendants.
But to Dorian, this was merely the first step—one of many he would take in his rise within this unfamiliar world.
They made a brief stop at the mansion to unload everything they had purchased earlier.
Alvin got busy carrying boxes of robes, shoes, and other necessities inside.
They also took this chance to change into finer clothes.
Alvin and his siblings looked like rich nobles in their new clothes.
The mansion's once-empty hall now looked livelier, filled with the scent of new fabrics and the soft rustling of silk.
Dorian gave a quick glance around the interior, ensuring everything was in order, before signaling Alvin to prepare the carriage again.
There was no time to waste. He had another destination in mind.
Soon, the carriage wheels began to turn once more, the rhythmic sound of hooves echoing across the cobblestone streets.
Alvin sat upright on the driver's seat, guiding the horses with practiced care.
Inside, Dorian rested his chin on one hand, gazing out the window as the scenery passed in a blur.
The three children sat quietly, their eyes filled with curiosity.
They rarely left their district before, and now, each turn of the street revealed something entirely new.
At first, they passed through the bustling heart of the city.
The streets were crowded with merchants calling out their wares—fresh fruits, pottery, jewelry, and strange trinkets from faraway lands.
The air was thick with the aroma of roasted meats, herbs, and the faint smell of smoke from cooking stalls.
People moved busily in every direction, their laughter and shouts blending into the lively hum of city life.
Alvin guided the carriage carefully through the crowd.
He felt the weight of dozens of eyes watching them—commoners glancing up at the elegant vehicle that rolled past.
It wasn't every day a carriage this fine appeared in their district.
A few whispered, wondering who the young noble inside could be.
Dorian paid them no mind.
But soon, the environment began to change.
The noise of the marketplace faded behind them, replaced by a serene stillness.
The road widened, the stonework smoother, the air fresher.
The common houses made of wood and clay disappeared, replaced by mansions surrounded by tall iron fences, gardens filled with trimmed hedges, and courtyards lined with white gravel.
Alvin's heart began to race. He knew this part of the city—at least, by reputation.
It was the district of big clans, a place commoners were not allowed to enter unless summoned.
Guards were often stationed at the entrances, though strangely, no one stopped their carriage this time.
He swallowed hard, his palms sweating as he held the reins tighter.
The horses trotted forward with steady rhythm, but his voice trembled slightly when he spoke.
"M-Master, which way?" Alvin asked at a crossroads.
Dorian's calm voice replied to him from inside the carriage.
"Just go straight, Alvin. We'll be there soon."