Once Archibald was freshly bathed and shaved, he allowed the servant girls to flutter around him, dabbing him with scented oils and lightly brushing his skin dry with herbs. They lotioned and powdered his unmentionables and then began to dress him. Undergarments made of silk, soft against his clean skin. Then they added layer after layer of cloth, exotically dyed in bright colors and woven with threads of wrought gold. King Archibald Aserit insisted on being the most fashionable and attractive individual in any room. He represented his people, and he would be damned if he was out-flounced by those art-loving, Theirian hippies.<br/><br/>The King’s coat was forest green, lined with fox fur around the collar, his pants were burgundy and gold. His vest, that same burgundy and his leggings the same deep green as his coat. The entire outfit was woven with thick threads of solid gold, made all the more impressive by layer after layer of heavy gold chains. In Archibald’s mind, he was the conquering ruler, brought to this infernal castle to bend its occupants to his relentless will. The sorry state of his royal coffers back home would not prevent him from making an impression.<br/><br/>Lastly, King Archibald allowed his servants to place his rings on the fingers they were instructed. Without warning, Archi delivered a swift, back-handed slap to the face of the last girl to finish sliding her bejeweled ring on. He grabbed her chin after she flinched and turned her face to observe the pattern they left behind.<br/><br/>“Yes, these will do.” Archi muttered softly as he turned the whimpering servant’s face back and forth, observing every aspect of the mark his rings left on her face. “Go fetch my wife now. We have deprived the Theirians of Our Royal Presence for long enough.”<br/><br/>As he waited for the serving-girl to bring Mirevia, Archi finished the ensemble by donning his golden helmet crown, the same one he’d worn into battle for years.