"You know, I bedded more than one Human when I was young."

"How you doin', then," I smile at the old woman.

Anyway, yeah, that's not really something you want to hear from a fifty-year-old Elven [Seamstress] while she's handling your crotch—well, I mean, while she's taking measurements.

Wait. Not the measurements you are thinking of! It’s all totally kosher. I think.

We are currently close to the Pratus, in a store where Flaminia swears you can get the best clothing at the best possible price. For a good ten minutes, she's been complaining about scammers and how their cheap dyes have tinted her skin multiple times. And, as with any woman, we stopped more than once to check out some items of clothing or some jewelry that she found absolutely gorgeous.

Even two dimensions away from Earth, women are still fierce window-shoppers.

"Fulvia, leave him alone," Flaminia says from the side. "Just get him a couple of tunics or whatever fits him. And put him on my bill."

"Hm, Flaminia, I didn't know you had such good taste in men. I thought you only went for those muscled idiots in the military or the speciesist idiots you usually bed."

"Wow, Flaminia, do you, now?" I snort.

"Fulvia, why don't you shut your trap and get him some clothes?" My colleague blushes as the older woman whips out that cool piece of gossip.

The old Elven woman smirks at me, gives me a good pat on the butt, and nods. "These youngsters don't know how to pick men, young fellow. If you even get bored of her, come here, and I'll give you a special fitting. Also, stay put. I'm almost done."

She runs a measuring tape made of leather across my body, taking care to squeeze and pinch more than I have ever seen a tailor do.

"Don't you have the skill to take measurements, anyway?" Flaminia grumbles.

"Where's the fun in that?" The [Seamstress] shoots me a wink as she measures my legs. "And this is a pretty tall Human for their standards. I wouldn't want to get anything wrong. I only use my skills on women and ugly men. I take care of the best customers personally. You know that relying on your skills too much is the way to get stuck at the same level for an eternity."

WOW.

Flaminia facepalms while the [Seamstress], Fulvia, gets up and brings me two long tunics. One of them is deep blue, and the other is purplish.

The cloth is bright and looks better than most clothes you'd find in any department store.

See, this woman's store has many fabrics on display, even though none of them glitter as you would expect from a place that is probably involved with magic.

"The season is still warm. You might want to add some undergarments when it starts getting colder. Come to me if you want something custom fit—I always give a discount to handsome young men."

"Sure," I smile at the old lady. But, honestly, I don't think she's doing more than teasing me. It's like when old grandmas call you beautiful. I'm not saying younger women shouldn't take a page from their grandmothers, but I'm still not reading too much into this.

"Wow, this is really soft," I say as I touch the cloth.

"I don't deal in cheap cloth, young man," the older Elf replies with a smug grin. "Nowadays, it's all about youth. But levels don't go away. At my age, I can still uproot any of those little green upstarts who claim to be good [Tailors] or [Seamstresses]."

"Do you work with magical clothes?"

"Enchanted, you mean? Sure, but it's harder to style the kind of fabric that can hold a good enchantment. And they will cost you hundreds of gold coins. That's why you see adventurers, even [Mages], mostly wearing leather. It's easier to skin a magical animal and inscribe their cured hide than rear the right ones to provide you with good wool. Or worse, try growing magical cotton."

"No hemp, flax, or something like that?” I ask, curious.

"Flaminia, you have a smart Human here. I'd suggest getting yourself pregnant with his children instead of chasing idiots."

WOW, again.

"Fulvia, you old—"

"Shush," the older woman orders. "Young man, magical hemp is produced in Amorium, but no reputable mage would wear it. It's resistant and practical but ugly. Flax, now, is slightly better, but again, not good enough. Most enchanted robes are made of magical silk. But you need mana-infused plants, if not straight-up mana potions, to feed the worms. And most of the great [Silk Growers] are on Teiko, among the Three-States. It's not easy getting good imports here."

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"That is fascinating..." I widen my eyes. "So, when you see [Mages] with a robe, they are usually wearing unenchanted things because of... fashion?"

"[Mages] are vain," Fulvia nods before shaking her head, "the smart ones get their robes lined with a thin layer of enchanted leather, but that's about it. If I were level 50 or higher, I could probably work with Dragon scales."

"FULVIA!" Flaminia's mouth gapes.

"What? Even after what they did to the Ahalis, we still allow them into our cities. You'd gut one of Teiko’s slavers right away, but we still let Dragons live among us. All those royals... all green ears, trust me."

Now, I have no idea what political take that was exactly. I get that Fulvia doesn't like Dragons and would probably sew their scales into a nice robe, though.

"How about magical velvet? Couldn't you work the hemp and cotton together to make a velvet robe? It would look very extra, but still."

Fulvia looks at me with her eyebrows snapped together.

"What is velvet?"

Huh, isn't it a thing? Well, my memory is actually terrible, but I visited a place in my parents' country that had historical looms with it. Plus, my mother was a big sewing buff, and had me watch a tremendous amount of documentaries and follow her through museums and showcases full of that stuff. Clothing is, arguably, one of the biggest passions of any true Italian.

"Ok, I might not be remembering this perfectly. But it's essentially two layers of stuff. To create the base fabric, the weaver first threads the warp yarns, the lengthwise yarns, onto the loom. He then passes the weft yarns, the crosswise yarns, over and under the warp yarns, creating a basic weave. To create the pile fabric, the weaver first weaves a base fabric, as I said. But then, he adds an extra set of warp yarns on top of the base fabric. These extra warp yarns are tied to the weft yarns at specific intervals, creating small loops. The resulting fabric has a soft, velvety surface when the loops are cut. You'd usually use silk for the velvety layer, I believe. But you can also use cotton, or maybe even wood-based fibers."

Fulvia looks at me, and suddenly, her hands start trembling.

"Flaminia, keep your filthy money. Young man, what's your name again?"

"Luciani, Joey Luciani," I smile at Fulvia.

"Joey," the old woman takes my hand in hers, full of passion, "I know the best [Weaver] in town— she's my oldest friend. Could I borrow you to explain to her what you just told me?"

As she's done with the question, she suddenly grabs the tunics from my hands, scoffing. "You are not getting those cheap clothes. I'm sewing something custom-fit at the moment. What are your favorite colors?"

"Fulvia! We don't have time for this!" Flaminia is looking more and more upset.

"I doubt I can build a loom or do more than describe the process in vague details," I say, scratching my head.

Fulvia, however, doesn't seem to care.

"[Flying Needles]," she says, as seven different needles levitate around her, and she starts sampling the fabrics in her shop, looking at me with a clinical eye. "[Cut For The Customer]," she speaks. "You have a spark of magic in you, Joey. How about I make you a nice robe?" A piece of red fabric starts unfurling from one of the rolls.

"Ma'am," I start speaking more politely now, slightly embarrassed, "you really don't have to. I don't think I can guide you through the velvet process. And Flaminia is right, we kind of need to go."

As I'm trying to convince Fulvia to let the matter rest, someone shouts from outside the store.

"Flaminia! Is that you?" It's a deep man's voice, and I can see a flash of alarm in the pink-haired Elf's eyes.

"Joey, hide! Now!" She pushes me to the back of the shop, and Fulvia takes me along with her, pushing me with the same urgency as Flaminia.

"What's happening?" I speak, confused.

"Flaminia! Rotten roots, it's been a month since I last saw you! Are you working tonight?"

I peek from behind the door and see a huge Elf, even bigger than Antoninus.

"Plinius," Flaminia says, barring the entrance with her body. "Would you mind? I'm doing some shopping. I don't want to be bothered now."

I see Fulvia giving me the side-eye with some worry. What's happening here, really?

"Oh, come on, Flam. Don't you want a taste? Tonight, we could—"

"Plinius, I said I'm busy. Are your ears rotting?"

"Ok, ok. Anyway, I heard from friends that a worm started working at Happy Bakery. Is that true?"

I see Fulvia wince at that as we both listen in silence to the conversation undergoing in the other room.

"You should stop seeing those idiots," I hear Flaminia's tone turning into anger. "They always get themselves in trouble with the Watch, Plinius."

"You know how the lads are; they are just working hard to keep the worms out. They'll be doing some time, but they should be out in a few weeks. Anyway, are the voices true? Is there a worm working with you? You know you can always count on me if you want him to have an accident while getting home."

Ok, interesting. Now, I understand. Isn't 'worm' some kind of a slur for Humans? Mind you, I have no idea why Humans would be worms and Elves not. Other than the ears, we pretty much look the same. I should ask about the history of the slur sometimes.

But yeah, Flaminia dated a wildly racist— well, speciesist guy. And I suspect he would have a problem with seeing me shopping around with her.

"Plinius, you should get back to the barracks. There's no Human in Happy Bakery that I know of. Clodia handles the hiring. If there's one, he’s probably sweeping the floors after we are done with work."

"Yeah," he laughs boomingly, "those worms are good at menial jobs. I always tell my lads we should start enslaving worms to take care of the stupid jobs."

Mh.

"Can I go back to shopping?" I hear Flaminia sigh.

"Sure, beauty. Stop by the barracks if you want to have some fun tonight. And say hi to Fulvia. Tell her that the day she lowers her prices, I'll get all the lads to shop here. Kiss me goodbye?"

The fact that I only hear silence after the question makes me cringe. Did Flaminia just kiss the guy?

After a few seconds, I hear the door close and Flaminia telling us that everything is clear.

"You can come out. He's gone."

There's a wild, red blush on her face. Fulvia is surreptitiously staring at me, most likely waiting for my reaction. Flaminia is just staring at the floorboards.

"What?" I say, noticing the weirdness in the room.

"Joey, I'm so sorry about that," Flaminia starts.