The steely gaze of the guild master bore down on the four. The kind of gaze that had seen it all, done it all, and wasn’t impressed. When no one spoke up, they asked again. “Where did you all come from?”

Paul broke out of the pause first. “I’m afraid sire that we don’t quite recall.”

The guild master tilted their head to the side and kept their frown but didn’t say anything.

Paul cleared his throat and pushed on. “I do recall that you might have met with Gil the caravan master. He found us by the wayside under the thrall of a transmigrator. We have no recollection of who we are or possessions to our name.”

The guild master nodded their head. “Ah so that’s you guys. Gil did indeed mention how he picked up a poor group.”

“Therefore, we, being nibless and with naught but these simple garments.” Paul gestured to the dirty tunics on their bodies. “Sought a place of employment so that we could regain our footing. Gil, kind soul that he is, brought us here for identification and work most suitable to us.” Paul finished with a bow.

Francis started a slow clap. No one joined in.

“Right. That does seem to match what I know.” The guild master rubbed his chin in contemplation. “Who am I to get in the way of hard working people. God only knows how much we need more people like that.” The guild master gestured to Julia. “Pay them what we owe them.”

Julia went behind the counter to stand besides the guild master. The guild master continued to stare at the group. Julia pointedly cleared her throat which caused the guild master to flinch and step out of her way. Julia flashed him a stiff smile and bent under the counter to pick up a small pouch on a tray.

“Ahem. For the SWIFT.” Julia glanced at Everett who was still nursing his swollen face. “Dispatch of the quest duties. We award your group with four bit coins. And, for bringing back the goblin cauldron, going above and beyond what the quest detailed, the adventurers guild awards an additional fifty nibs.”

Julia pushed the tray and pouch slightly forward on the counter top. Mark, being the person closest, stepped forward to take the pouch. Julia reached out and laid her hand on Marks as he picked up the money.

“And on a more personal note.” Julia tickled the back of Marks hand. “It is a true delight to have you in our town.”

Mark stared at the hand for a moment, and allowed it to stay. “Mighty kind of you to say that. If you heard us talking earlier, we were looking for a place to get some clothes. Would you have a place in mind?”

Julia’s eyes flashed. “I have the perfect place in mind.”

-------------

“Julia said this was the place.” Mark and the rest were standing in front of a storefront with the gaudiest curtains they had ever seen. The patterns, the frills, the colours, were all an assault on the senses.

Paul gave a sidelong glance at Mark. “She must really like you if you’re already at the prank pulling stage.”

“Nah, not like that.” Francis dismissed the words. “Girl clothes and boy clothes are two different things. This is just her tailor is all.” He got a thoughtful look on his face. “Or maybe it’s the guild’s tailor?”

“It’s our tailor now.” Tim ended the conversation. “Let’s go in.”

They pushed past the drapes on the doorway making a rustling noise. The interior, like the exterior, was a riot of colour and fabrics. Some were haphazardly thrown about, many were still in rolls or folded on tables. Yards and yards of fabric littered every possible space. The general volume of sound instantly quieted.

“Be with you in a minute!” came the muffled yell of a woman.

The four meandered around the shop, mostly inspecting and feeling fabrics.

“I hear black goes with everything.” Francis commented.

Paul was looking at a faded red fabric with gold stars for a pattern. “I’m sure it would do you well.”

“I wonder if they have jeans?” Mark was near some blue cloths.

There was a rustle and a voice. “Coming coming... on my way!” as the lady shop keep made her way to the shop floor. “Oh, new customers!” and clapped her hands in an excited flutter.

She was robed in robes upon robes. Perhaps as a walking advertising board for her shop. Thin pale hands smoothed out her clothing while striking green eyes shone out from under curly black hair.

“It has been too long!” The lady straightened up her posture. “You must call me Esmeralda. For I am the mistress of the seams!” Esmeralda raised one hand in a flourish.

The four were taken aback by the strong personality she gave off.

Esmeralda seemed to falter and lose a bit of her imposing demeanour. “Was that too much?”

“Maybe a bit for someone’s first time.” Tim broke the news gently. “We’re here because Julia from the guild recommended this is the place for clothes.”

Regaining some of her original spark, Esmeralda almost shouted. “Of course you are! For my clothes are the best around. Especially better than anything you could get in West Red.”

“Well we are looking for something... hard wearing might be the best most apt descriptor.” Tim gestured at the surrounding materials. “We’re new to the adventuring life and need something practical.”

“Practical you say?” Esmeralda stalked around Tim like a hyena. “Hard wearing, tough, can be patched up easily. I have just the fabrics for you.”

Esmeralda’s eyes flowed over to Francis. “Yourself, much the same?”

“I hear black is all the rage these days.” Francis held a stray bit of cloth across the bottom half of his face.

“BAH!” Esmeralda waved her hand. “Black is not what you want. You want midnight blue. Something that is smooth and silent. Black stands out under the moonlight. Blue will blend in better.”

Francis pouted. “But the style.”

“Style is for society and socialites.” Esmeralda bore down on the diminutive halfling. “A working halflings clothes needs to be functional first.”

“I think Julia was right to send us to you.” Paul fingered a cloth not unlike silk. “You’ve really got a sense of our needs.”

Esmeralda beamed with pride. “Never have my clothes failed to live up to expectations. Julia sends many people my way for a reason. What about yourself my elf friend?”

“I direct the magical aethers.” Paul wiggled his fingers. “mine needs are something loose that will not impede my movements.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“For you, I’ve got plenty of robes just begging to be worn.” Esmeralda shrugged. “I’ll let you look through what I’ve got available, but if you want a different fabric, let me know.”

Then, like a person dying of thirst looking at an oasis. “But you my good sir.” Esmeralda bit her lip at Mark. “You will need a delicate touch. Nothing less than my best will suffice.”

“I really don’t...” Mark took a step back. “Really, nothing special...” He bumped into a rack of fabrics behind him.”

“Yesssss, I see it now.” Esmeralda moved in close to Mark. “Lines here, embroidery here.” She traced lines across Marks frame. “Tuck in here, open up here.” Squeezing a muscular bicep. “Oh honey, if you got it, you flaunt it.”

Mark looked over Esmeralda’s head in a silent scream for help.

Paul took pity on the man and cleared his throat with a cough. “Pardon my interruption, could you show me those robes you mentioned?”

Esmeralda broke out of her intense focus. “Ah yes, let us take care of the practical before the art. Right this way my good people. Let us settle on what will work best.” She snapped her fingers at Mark. “But you will not escape me just yet.”

Mark groaned and Tim patted him on the shoulder.

------------

The results cost them an entire bite.

Paul was staring at the iron coin in his hand. The thing was roughly two inches in diameter and made of the blackened metal. There was an imprint of teeth marks across the whole thing. As if someone stuck it far back in their mouth and bit down with their molars.

“For the sin of this currency, the world muse be destroyed.” Paul dropped the bit coin into their money pouch.

Tim was looking at a smaller nibble coin. It’s bronze face had the dental imprints of someone’s incisors across it’s face. “Could be worse I suppose. Could be something like pure barter.”

“That would be a nightmare to deal with.” Paul stuffed the pouch into a pocket of his new robes. He had to begrudgingly admit that the yellow colour did contrast well with his gray fur. The garment fell down to his calves and felt light.

Tim’s clothes had a squarish look to them. Brown pants and a green shirt, at their own insistence. “She was quite suggestive with the white colour, but I knew I would never be able to keep them clean.”

Francis was sulking. “But it’s the cool guy colour.” Their own outfit was midnight blue as suggested. A cross between functional and sleek. Loose at the joints but with fabric strips to tie down the ends tightly. “And these will be a nightmare to tie up every day.”

“I think you’re meant to tuck the ends in for the arm bits. Or you can just ask us for help.” Paul looked over. “And she did have a good point to make about the colour choices.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m just salty is all.” Francis looked back at the shop. “What’s taking him so long?”

“I’m sure he’s undergoing an arduous trial.” Paul stared at the drapes of the store. “One that is testing his very mettle.”

The doorways curtains rustled and out stepped Mark. White shirt with a deep V opening currently loose with strings, black pants stretched tight revealed hard carved muscles, and to cap it all off a belt with a gold buckle.

Francis stomped away and threw up his hands. “So she DID have black!”

“Looks nice Mark.” Paul nodded.

“I feel naked.” Mark plucked at the shirt for the pants had no extra material to give.

“Well you aren’t naked, thankfully.” Paul smacked his fist into his palm. “So where to next? We got three bites and fifty nibs just burning a hole in my pocket here.”

“Boots.” Mark stepped with everyone else. “Then armour, then the axe.”

“I’m sure there’s a cobbler or leather worker in town here somewhere.” Paul scanned the street. “Look for a giant shoe shaped house.”

Tim snapped their fingers. “Hah, good one.”

“But really, we’ll ask.” Paul smiled. “Someone like that lady over there!” Pointing towards a woman currently walking by with a basket. “Excuse me, miss!”

The woman turned her head and opened her mouth to respond but couldn’t get a word out upon seeing Mark in his clothes. She continued to walk with her face focused on Mark all the way until she impacted with an awning pole which caused her to break out of the stupor. Her basket slipped out of her grasp and thumped onto the ground.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry.” The woman gathered her wits and her basket. “I don’t know what came over me. How can I help?”

“We were looking for a cobbler.” Mark looked at Paul for confirmation, who nodded. “I’m needing a good pair of boots. Could you point the way?”

“I, uh, bwuh, would be delighted to show you.” The lady started off with a stiff gait. “I’m sure Cole would be happy to help.”

The lady, who later introduced herself as Mary, left them in front of Cole’s leather works. Stepping inside caused a little bell to ring. Seated in a corner next to many tools and working on some leather piece was the eponymous Cole.

Cole looked up from his work and gave a grunt of acknowledgement.

Paul spoke up. “We were hoping that we might procure some proper footwear here.” Glancing around at the shop Paul noticed a satchel. “And perhaps a bag or two if they are available.”

“What you see is what’s available for the bags.” Cole gestured with the tool he was holding. “And whoever wants their boots should come over here for tracing.”

Francis rushed over and wiggled his toes with a grin.

Cole leaned over the look the halfling in their eye. “This a joke?”

Francis was concerned for a moment, but gave a quick laugh. “hah, yes. Good one, no?”

Cole only stared.

“Ah well, let me move out of your way.” Francis stepped back.

Taking a deep breath, Cole looked over the others. “I don’t do slippers.” Pointing at Paul. “I don’t do cleats.” Pointing at Tim. “And I don’t do foppish points.” Pointing at Mark.

“I was hoping for high boots actually.” Mark walked over to the cobbler. “Ones that come up to here, just below the calf to support my ankle. With a thick sole that’ll last me a while on the road. And laces all the way up.”

Cole got a slow smile. “At least someone knows their boots. That’ll be fifty nibs.”

Paul jingled their coin pouch. “how much for sandals and this satchel?”

“thirty nibs.” Cole immediately answered.

“Got a frame to go with this backpack?” Tim fingered a bag.

“That’ll be twenty nibs then. But I’ll have to refer you to Cutter for the woodwork.” Cole shook his head. “He’s over on the west side of town.”

Feet were measured, coins were exchanged, and promises to return the next day for pickup were made.

Not needing anything from the woodworker, Mark and Francis split off from Tim and Paul.

Tim and Paul visited the man named Cutter who was an easygoing fellow. Their conversation was short and ended with ten nibs for the frame and staff of hardwood that Tim desired.

“You’ll take good care of that right?” Cutter asked. “I ain’t never seen a dwarf care about a piece of wood if it weren’t a handle.”

“I assure you, this will be my constant walking companion.” Tim thumped the staff on the ground, and gave a wave as the pair turned back to town.

Mark and Francis made their way to the blacksmith.

“This is the guy who gave Tim the coal?” Francis asked on the way.

“That he is.” Mark nodded down to Francis. “Seemed a busy guy. But I think he’ll be more free now. He was working on a caravan order.” Mark scratched his growing stubble. “Maybe he has a razor to spare.”

Francis rubbed his smooth chin. “Oh, didn’t notice this part of it.” Frowning slightly. “Kinda always thought I’d look good with a beard.”

Mark reached down to ruffle the red hair of the halfling. “It’ll come with age.”

The two stood in front of the blacksmith. The goblin cauldron was also there, currently bent and crumpled into only a vaguely recognizable shape, but the smell still lingered.

“Yo!” Mark called out, causing the blacksmith to make their way to the front of the building.

“Ah it’s the dwarf’s friend, and with another smaller companion.” The smith greeted. “What can I do you for?”

“We need some tools to do our work.” Mark held his arms out miming shapes. “I’m looking for an axe about this big. Something a bit wider than a wood cutting axe.”

“And I’m looking for a graceful weapon, a rapier!” Francis mimed a fencers stance and danced forward and back while thrusting the imaginary weapon.

“While I’m happy to make the axe. I’m not so good with more delicate work.” The smith gave a sad smile. “Those caravan folks would have been the people to ask for something like that, but they packed up an hour ago.”

“Another thing I would like is a set of armour.” Mark gestured at his body. “Took a few hits on the goblin job.” Nodding towards the remains of the cauldron.

The smith raised their eyebrows. “That was you guys? Well today’s your lucky day my friends. I normally charge five bites for a ‘tool’ like the ones your asking for. But that’s mostly because I have to order in all my materials.” The smith nudged the cauldron pieces. “This things been a real boon to my work because I was able to pick it up for cheap. So I think I can happily do you the axe for a bite, and hammer out a breastplate for a second.”

Mark looked towards Francis. “Sound good to you?”

“While I’m highly disappointed, yes that sounds just fine to me.” Francis pointed at the former cauldron. “Just make sure to work out the stench. I’ve had enough of that smell for a lifetime.”

“No worries there.” The smith chuckled. “Now let me take your measurements, and get this made to fit.”

-------------

Meeting up at the end of the day back at the Cup and Crow. The four were sitting at a table counting the couple dozen nibs they had remaining. Mark had insisted on paying back Greta for their meals.

“we’re broke, again.” Francis moaned.

“Don’t worry about it.” Tim murmured. “Hit up the guild tomorrow, find another quest. Easy.”

-------------

The quest board was empty.

“I have to thank you for getting Everett to start moving.” Julia looked up from the card game laid out in front of her. “We’d had those quests sitting for weeks until you guys came through.”

“So what would you suggest we do until the next one?” Mark asked.

“I’m sure the other people in town need help doing one thing or another. Ask around?” Julia turned back to the card game with a look of concentration.

This could only mean the single worst thing any of them could possibly imagine.

Part time labour.