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Peace had failed her. Words had failed her. Hope, by this point, had nearly failed her too. Sometimes the only answer left is chaos. She knew that. So she picked a flower, stood in the rubble of everything that had already gone wrong, and sent for the one man terrible enough to make it right.
The daughter of a mill owner awaits her fate as the city outside her turns to chaos, wide spread famine, crops failing, disease in the air, biblical rains caused flooding, all the while her desperate mind clings to the hope of a better life outside of the walls that tame her.
The renaissance fashion wasn't just about style, while the garments worn by the upper classes were beautiful, the hierarchy of clothing was a reflection of social statue and power at the time.
Purples and deep reds were reserved for the elite upper classes, royalty would not have washed there own clothes that would be handed down to staff some of which would take garments to mill owners.