Medieval Renaissance Outfits Male の小説・ストーリー

ARES’ POV The moment had finally arrived. Standing before the grand, full-length mirror in my suite, I adjusted the collar of my ceremonial regalia, the sharp gold accents catching the morning light. My reflection stared back at me—stoic, unreadable. Every detail of the outfit was tailored to perfection: the fitted black suit lined with crescent silver embroidery, the heavy alpha medallion resting against my chest, and the sleek crown of authority nestled over my dark, neatly combed hair.

Thusly, he found himself unwilling to give up that control again, to allow others to decide for him. He soon finished bathing and dried off, returning to the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. Dantares had prepared an outfit for him, a white shirt and pants, expertly tailored to match the young prince's body, and decorated with detailed maroon embroidery across the shoulders and at the cuffs. It was not as shiny or flashy as the silver outfits of the elves, but at least he wouldn't look too out of place. The other men would dress in simple, white formal attire, adequate if not impressive.

“Of skin as delicate as the snowflake. Yet, so savage like the waves in the sea.” I stretched out my arm and fastened on his neck. “Like a knight in armor, your aura domineers. Your phrases erupt rainbows, and that I couldn’t reply no more.” He wears an indigo tunic and cream trousers with those elaborate sequins making the clothing more masculine and royal. “I didn’t know that the General can spout honeyed words as well.”

He looked like he’d been carved out of a wild animal and stuffed into clothes that were two sizes too small. There were no steroids in medieval times; otherwise, I would've thought he was definitely on steroids. He thumped one meaty fist and shook the entire table. “Why are we wasting so much time talking? Send me and fifty men to hunt down the rebels, and this nonsense will end before the next moon rises again.”

"Once this engagement and marriage stuffs are over, I'll spend my time only with you, Ives. I promise. I'll be free from my father's promise, get the power and you'll be the only one for me. Just be patient until that time." King Raleigh wore a blue wool double-breasted tunic with a red collar, cuffs and piping. Collar and cuffs were piped white with silver Blitzen. He wore white pants and white shoes. He also slicked back his hair and looked at the mirror. The person reflecting on the mirror looked sharp and handsome but the expression on his face was dark and dangerous. King Raleigh was hoping this day would just pass quickly.

He was already fully arrayed in the brilliant gold team leathers of the Crown Coffee Academy, his face heavily painted with formal pack cosmetics and his hair slicked back with expensive fat to mirror his high-born lineage. Mirelle, true to her venomous nature, had provided me with nothing but a coarse, unornamented linen tunic from the lower servants' bins. No oils were given to my hair, which I had simply bound up with a strip of raw leather, leaving my face completely bare to the wind. I looked like an unranked stray straight out of the outer trenches.

They press the fabric to its limit. He’s wearing a midnight blue tunic with a high collar edged in gold piping. The golden braided cords draped over his right shoulder show his strength and military rank.

Reynard and Machiavelli both looked at him – Reynard concerned for him speaking up, and Machiavelli furious that he had. Machiavelli snarled, “I beg your pardon?” “A warrior not knowing how to wear his uniform properly is not normal. Even younglings know how to wear their attire.” “How dare you, of all people, speak on this topic?” “Sir, I actually think he’s right,” Reynard chimed in before the conversation got more heated. He tapped away at the computer, replaying the scene before the intruders infiltrated the grounds. “Look, he’s tugging at the uniform, as if it wasn’t fitted for him. All our warriors have custom uniforms made to fit their bodies perfectly for comfort and smooth movement.

It stood up on two legs, and when I saw that there was no sign of injury on its body, I lowered my hands and let my guard fall. Now it was time for the other guy to get attacked by this monster. This guy was smaller in stature, with skin like pale white paper, but that didn't lessen the terrifying aura emanating from him. His short brown hair matched his dark blue eyes and his outfit looked like it belonged to a medieval knight. Instead of the usual chainmail armor he was wearing, he wore a suit of chainmail armor that looked heavy and sturdy. However, it didn't block any of the sunlight, making his exposed skin seem even paler. His features appeared calm, although the tension on his face in

Corie shrieks out. Looking down I see that I am dressed in my old clothes: a clean ivory cotton point collar shirt that had a deep-V to it, my dark brown frock coat, my dark brown tied breeches, and my black calf length boots with gold buckles on the sides. My sword was back in its scabbard, attached to my hip. It felt both wonderful and weird being back in these clothes that had so long ago felt comfortable. Looking at Edward, Harry, Arthur, and John I could see that they were all just as amazed as I was. “Guys! We look so fucking badass!” Nerina squeals.