Olosse's brow shot up at her first request, staying fixed in surprise at the second. He chortled, eyes sparkling.
"Did you...did you just ask to go shopping, Iris?" Another chortle, this time a bit louder. 
"Oh of course! We must make sure you appear up to snuff, which won't be very difficult given who you'll be around." Thankfully Rowena did not stir at the slightly derogatory comment about Vadrudorian aesthetics. 
"It's a good ploy, of course. Many will be on guard around you, especially with the reputation the Shadows have among the general populace, but if they get to see you unfettered from...that-" He motioned at her uniform. 
"They'll absolutely be more spirited, maybe even let slip a few things we can file away for later. To think that Iris, my stalwart defender, will be my companion. I'm tickled." Olosse walked to a nearby dresser, opening the heavy wooden drawer at the very top. 
"But I'm afraid we'll have to go through business first, won't be? I'll need you to look very Shadowy and menacing if it comes to it. Find the two other guards that are probably around here somewhere and meet me down at the Vikar's Light. It's in the Victory quarter, closest to the harbor and the least civilized part of the capitol. When I arrive, follow me inside and do not engage with anyone until I say so. I'll need to grease some palms and spin a few lewd yarns, so I'm not expecting trouble, but if we do, I'll be sure to let you know." Olosse withdrew garb fit for the occasion: a blue short-sleeved shirt with a ruffled collar and sandals that had trails of dirt stuck to the bottom. The pants would stay on. His eyes caught Iris once more, drawing closer to her and putting a hand on her shoulder.
"I can't thank you enough for all you've done so far. The dirty work of politics is unseemly at best." A smile.
"Which is why I cannot wait to see you in a ballgown. I'm suspect you'll enjoy the night off from blood and villainy...although I suppose you'll be encountering the latter tomorrow night, just more dressed up." 

The Vikar's Light was a two-story building assembled with wooden planks, nails and apparently a lack of geometric awareness. The tavern's walls weren't properly rectangular or square nor did the building sit level, but instead sloped upward almost 30 degrees ,providing a very strange seating arrangement inside where tables stood at odd angles and dartboards mounted on the peak of the slope were there for the sport of seeing who could actually make five darts stick in a row. The trappings of a seedy tavern (dirt, soot, fluids of a questionable nature, sweat, etc) were all present, Olosse's nose wrinkling upon entering. It had been at least a year or so since he had come to visit Malaya, wondering silently if she was occupied (and he hoped she was. He wouldn't want Iris to see his more...well, hopefully she was busy). 
"Well, our favorite piece of royal scum comes to visit after all this time, eh?!" A man with massive forearms and an even larger chest stood behind the bar, face flush with heat and activity, beard wagging. 
"Jove in the flesh! Wonderful, wonderful, the place hasn't lost the crust yet!" A few chuckles from the regulars as Olose sauntered to the bar, the duo clasping hands with the former's right hand finding itself occupied with a handful of coin, earning Olosse a grateful nod.
"How long will you be gracing us with your presence till you go to visit-" 
"Oh hush, hush, Jove, let's talk business for a minute." Olosse leaned forward, Jove mirroring the liege's posture.
"What in the bloody continent's name is going on at the docks, Jove?" A grunt as the large man leaned back, shaking his head, motioning to the tavern. 
"A people oppressed, your liege, a people tired of it's oppressors." 
"Here here!" Some of the regulars echoed. 
"So much so that your children are commodities?" A grimace. 
"It's better than what they have here." Olosse's hands gripped the counter.
"You're doing this on purpose?" Jove leaned forward again, forearms on the counter. 
"Whatever you heard about the docks isn't all it seems. The Altans-"
"The bloody pirates?!"
"Keep your voice low, your liege." Olosse remained silent. 
"One and the same, the Atlans offer us safe passage, families and children alike, from here to the Isles." The Isles of Manka were a part of the Iron Collective, a small cluster of land masses about 50 leagues off the coast that have been a haven for pirates, mercenaries and other ne'er do wells, but also a great place for those who want to hide . 
"What could be so important to enact such a scheme?" Jove shook his head.
"Can't say much."
"Sure you can. With enough co-"
"No amount of coin in the world is going to stop what's coming to that blight Rakuhor." Chairs scraped behind Olosse as several men surrounded him. 
"We know what you're here to do, Prince; call it off and get out of the city now. Stay, and your mother won't be mourning just your fa-" Olosse withdrew a dagger strapped underneath his shirt from it's holster hanging on his lower back and lunged over the counter, tip at Jove's throat. 
"I dare you to finish your sentence." The prince hissed, eyes aflame. 
"You won't...leave here...alive..." Jove's adam apple danced against the blade held at his throat as he smiled, the crowd of men closing in on Olosse. 
"Shadows! We're in for it, tonight!"