Aida Lowyll laid out the outfits that vaguely, by some skewed definition of the word, matched the oddest request of her career.

She had picked three outfits, two of which she found at the bottom of the discard box they had yet to throw out. The clothes were sewn together as practice pieces by Aida and other apprentices and were far from any standard the store dared to sell. As subpar as they were, Aida doubted she would find anything better in the two hours she was provided.

Sighing, Aida reclined on her chair and gazed at the bustling street through her glass window. This cramped room on the second floor was her proud private sewing room, lined with the best of lacquered hardwood equipment and metal needles. Aida was allowed to use materials and fabrics of quality she couldn’t have dreamed of when she picked up the hobby of tailoring at the age of five.

Four years she’d spent in this little room, inside the walls of Arkber. Even now, she was still impressed by the architecture and design of the streets. Mansions, spires, the simplest of homes—everything inside the walls was just so grand.

The same standard applied to the quality of products the aristocracy expected her to craft. Ball dresses, embroidered suits, whatever ornaments a noble wished to cover themselves with for next month’s balls. Aida was by no means an expert, requiring frequent help from the masters, but she was proud of her progress.

With each repetitive order to follow fashion trends, Aida was coming to think she’d experienced it all during her four years. Yet, as was always the case, her customers proved her wrong.

“‘Anything better than a worn-out garderobe carpet,’ huh?” she muttered under her breath. “I’m putting too much effort into this, aren’t I…”

The third outfit in Aida’s consideration was the craziest of all, and not intended to be worn at all, certainly not by men. It was one of Aida’s creations. A midnight blue two-layered mage’s robe (though without magical enhancements) that she crafted for her collection with her excess wages. She’d poured all her inspiration into this robe, creating an abomination of techniques and materials, fit for some fictional race she had not yet identified.

This won’t do, Aida thought. The red-hair will be insulted if I offer a robe to a man…

She placed the robe back into her private display rack when footsteps sounded from the back of the store. Aida fixed her posture and focused back on her work, appearing slightly busier than she already was. The door to her chambers creaked open.

“Master? Welcome ba—”

The man by her door was not her Aida’s master, but a certain red-haired maniac, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Aida jumped from her seat.

“You!” she gushed, taking a step back. “What are you doing here!”

“Hello, hello,” the man said. He scratched at his temple awkwardly. “I’ve arrived ahead of schedule. My apologies. I bring requests in need of urgent attention.”

Baffled, Aida faced the creep. She reached for scissors on the table behind her. The red-hair had entered from the back, from behind locked doors where no customers had access to. Why was he up here! Arkber was supposed to be thief-free inside its walls!

“Uhm.” Aida’s voice came out as concerned. “Could you wait downstairs, please, while I finish the order?”

“I cannot, unfortunately.” The red-hair scratched his cheek awkwardly. “My clothes have kind of disappeared, as you can see. It would not be proper to show myself to customers in this state.”

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How did you get in! Aida wished to ask but didn’t dare speak out loud. She found herself utterly trapped, too afraid to scream for help. How are you inside the walls!

“I am aware that I have broken into your shop,” the man said. “And I do apologize. You can leave the scissors. I won’t hurt you. I just need some damn clothes, and a lot of them.”

Hesitantly, Aida left the scissors and showed both of her arms. “You wish to pick up your order?”

“Yes,” the red hair said. “And some more on top of that.”

“Well…” Aida said, her tone still spooked from the intrusion. “Let’s start with your first order. I, um, these two were all I had time to find.” She offered the outfits to the red-haired man.

With a concentrated frown, the man studied the leather trousers and the corseted vest of the first outfit. Quickly enough, he placed it down. He offered similar treatment to the second outfit. “If there’s nothing else, they could do…”

He observed them for a moment longer before his eyes found their way to Aida’s display rack. He walked over as if he owned the place and grinned. “Now, this would be phenomenal.”

To Aida’s horror, the man picked up the robe she had just deemed unfit. He examined its layers with curiosity. He tested the velvet cuffs, fiddled with the silver-embroidered sash, then said, “This one better be for sale.”

“Of course!” Aida said with an awkward laugh. “You are free to have it. I would, um, be glad to offer it for a gold mark?”

“Oh, I’ll pay a lot more than that,” Darko said. “What about the staff?”

Aida rushed over to where she’d left the staff she prepared. “This one, I received it from our sister store next door. It’s—”

“Perfect,” the red-hair said, snatching it from her hands before she could finish. “This will do. Now, if I could be so lucky, would you happen to have anything similar in resemblance to the vested outfit I wore earlier?”

Aida stared at the man. “You wish to buy generic adventuring gear? Our store’s primary focus is to satisfy nobility for balls, not to fill guilds with harnesses.”

“Well, if you’ve got nothing, a proper suit will have to do,” the red-hair said. “I will also require two pairs of socks and underwear, two pairs of boots, along with anything else an adventurer might want to wear.”

The next ten minutes of Aida’s sorry day were spent pillaging the store’s attic for the crazy red-hair’s request. The red-hair forced her to work quietly to not alert anyone who could possibly see him without clothes. In the end, Aida had piled some haphazard socks, two pairs of breeches that could or perhaps could not fit the man’s foreign acquaintance, an undershirt to pair with the robe, a rather expensive suit of the red-hair’s choosing, four pairs of men’s linen underwear, and two pairs of black knee-high boots.

“Perfect,” the red-hair said. “As close as we’ll get, at least. How much will this all cost?”

“The ledgers downstairs will require a moment to work,” Aida said. “They will offer you a price.”

“We can’t have that,” the red-hair said. “I require these clothes approximately now.”

“The ledgers will take less than five minutes, if you will,” Aida said.

“I regret to inform you,” the red-hair said, “that I currently do not have a single scrap of money on my person, and I would prefer to walk back with at least some parts of my body covered.”

“You… intend to not pay?” Aida asked.

“No, this is not a robbery,” the red-hair said. “I will pay you a healthy buck. That day will have to wait, however.”

Aida stood in bewilderment, wondering if she should forget courtesies and scream out for help to catch this thief. Yet, she doubted the whole store’s workforce combined would have been enough to take down this man. His muscles certainly spoke for themselves. If he wasn’t currently robbing her store, Aida could have imagined the conversation going a whole lot differently.

As she was lost in consideration, footsteps sounded from downstairs. “Aida?” a woman’s voice called. Their ledger, Verys. “What’s the ruckus up there?”

The red-hair took this as a warning. He piled every piece of cloth and fabric into his arms with superhuman speed and precision, then took off with haste, escaping where he had come, all before Verys could make it upstairs.

“Aida?” Verys asked. The older woman tapped Aida on the shoulder. “Did something happen? You look as if you’ve been cursed.”

“Verys?” Aida said. “I think we were just robbed.”