Folding her half written letter neatly into a nearby satchel, Naivara rose to her feet with a slow sigh as she straightened out her flowing dress. A decidedly impractical outfit she reflected, reflecting the obvious contempt for practicality espoused by the nobility. Cut from the finest silk dyed a deep blue that matched her enchanting palette, the floor length gown had been sewn by a collection of some of the finest dressmakers in Bradena. It had cost a small fortune, even before silver thread had been embroidered into the gown until ornamental bands of shimmering metal decorated the sleeve borders, neckline, and bottom half of the dress. The low V-neckline that ended just under her bust would have been scandalous indeed, had she not been wearing a round cut underdress beneath to avoid showing too much. Such details struck her as deeply unnecessary, bordering on painfully vain, but it was the style of fashion favored for some time now at court.

The aristocratic garb unmistakably reflected her position as Court Wizard. Naivara had changed. She had changed much since her time with Octavia and her gallant sellswords. Gone was the mousy wizard wrapped in simple robes, a gentle creature more fond of quiet places and arcane writings than the bustle of a great city or the scheming that endlessly flowed through the throne room. Naivara had learned. She had grown. She had adapted to her new station.

For all that lengthy dinners and formal social functions annoyed her, Naivara had come to believe that she could nurture change in the realms, true change, only if she continued to rise upwards. She couldn't stay the same. She couldn't bury herself in books and memories. It wasn't what Octavia would have wanted. It wasn't what she wanted. So she wore two rings forged by master craftsman, the dwarfs residing in the far away Grey Mountains, elaborate earrings, soft oaks of silver, and around her neck hung a matching necklace holding a sapphire jewel that seemed to dangle on impossibly thin leaves of silver that seemed to sway with the wind.

These were mere props, Naivara reminded herself. Tools she had to utilize. She had become an actress in the old elven tradition. And a dedicated student of the behavior and minds of those around her.

Still, she almost burst into laughter looking at herself in the full length mirror that stood in one corner of her chambers. Who would have believed it? Naivara Amakiir had turned into a proper lady after all. And it had taken several centuries less than her mother had angrily scolded her that it would take.