They followed the winding forest path for the next few hours, trundling along in more ways than one. The conversation soon turned to clothes, and Rin received precisely what he wanted and much more: detailed instructions of the various ways to create garments for all manner of people, from peasant to noble. Once the two tailors opened up about their craft, their passion became apparent as they gushed about endless minutia Rin was sure to never need. When Mikka revealed sketches of the latest fashions making their way to Hask from other countries, she became so physically thrilled with Rin’s interest that her words came out fast and breathless, blurring together as she panted between sentences.

But their teachings paid the greatest dividends when the conversation turned to magical clothing, a fascinating submarket where Rin’s education had been sorely lacking.

“Part of it is the base element,” said Mikka. “If I want to create a cloak with magical resistance to a particular element, a common approach is to begin by using a base material attuned with its opposing element. If it were a fire-resistant cloak, for example, I would make it from something water-based, such as nazlin whaleskin, pottamer seaweed, or river drake scales. Better still would be material from an ice-based creature, like yeti wool or the scales of an ice basilik.

“But selecting the base element is only the first step. Any fool can wrap themselves in yeti wool and gain some fire resistance. But you also have to consider the side effects. Will this cloak induce chills for the wearer? Will it freeze solid and become brittle, destroying the garment’s integrity? The trick of the trade, and the defining skill of a master, is to create magical clothing in such a way that you solve the original problem without producing any adverse effects. You never want to fix one problem only to create another.

Horace spoke up. “We use a base layer of nullifying material to overcome this. So, in the example of the fire-resistant cloak, you might add a thin layer of deathtouch mink beneath the yeti wool. It absorbs any stray mana before it touches the skin. And as long as the mink fur faces outward from the wearer, they’d be unaffected by its mana-sapping properties.”

Rin nodded eagerly, yet deep down he struggled to picture the materials they were talking about, having no base frame of reference. If he couldn’t picture them, he couldn’t imagine them, and wouldn’t be able to conjure clothes with the materials using Craven’s Infinite Wardrobe. The solution to this turned out to be laughably simple. He simply asked for help.

“I’m having trouble picturing these materials. Do you have any samples?”

Horace grinned amiably. “A common request.” A dizzying array of magical materials appeared from the man’s storage ring for Rin's perusal.

Never hurts to ask.

There were monster skins, exotic furs, bark, leaves, and even monster organs, all cut into uniform squares for easy inspection. One noteworthy example was a fiery snakeskin, spiraling with tiny eddies of red flame across its surface. When Rin touched it, he felt real pain and jerked his hand back in alarm.

“That one’s from a lava serpent,” said Horace. “Great for adding to weaponry, although it’s not very resilient. Granting a buff to existing clothing is the easiest technique of all. You just stitch it onto the base material, and away you go. The buff typically doesn’t last very long, as short as a few days in some cases. But sometimes that’s all you need.”

This would be perfect for fighting those stick devils.

Rin hovered his hands over the piece, sensing its heat, smelling the burned tang it lent to the air, desperately trying to imprint the image in his long-term memory.

When Horace saw the boy’s efforts, he couldn’t help but speak up. “You never told us why you want to know all this. You’re not some secret competitor ... are you?” The man laughed in half-jest, eyeing Rin with a mixture of skepticism and mild trepidation.

Technically, Craven’s wardrobe isn’t a secret ability. I could tell them. But I’m not sure if I should. The less people know of my strength, the better. Some people might hate the idea of a Cursed becoming strong and come after me with a mob and pitchforks.

“My, uh, sister is really into clothes. I thought I could make something for her … birthday, yeah. That’s right. Because making it would be cheaper than buying it from someone else.”

Horace’s grin stretched ear to ear, and Mikka burst into outright laughter. “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever seen!” she said, shaking her head.

“Look, I have an ability, okay? It’s loosely based on clothes, and it’s what helped me defeat that stick monster. But I want to keep it a secret. There are not many Cursed that can defend themselves. I’m not sure how people will react.”

Horace patted him on the shoulder. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“Ah,” said Mikka, her laughter vanishing into a frown. “You’ve probably filed me in that category, prejudiced against Cursed.” She stared at the ground, the cart jostling her side to side. “I jumped to the wrong conclusion when I first met you, and for that, I apologize. I misjudged you.” The woman teased at some wood fibers fraying loose from a board. “I respect you wanting to keep your abilities secret. No harm in that.”

“Tell you what,” said Horace. “Now that you’ve opened up about it, I’ll do you one in return.” He tapped the side of his nose and peered about conspiratorially. “The trick to making magical clothes isn’t just the materials. You need mana manipulation, too. You have to weave mana into the material, throughout its entire length. No one knows precisely why the magic works this way, but when you weave mana into the material, the Game of the Gods considers it a single artifact rather than an assemblage of smaller parts.”

“Okay,” said Rin. “Some of that makes sense. But why should it matter if it’s a single artifact instead of a bunch of separate ingredients stapled together, so to speak.”

“Power,” said Mikka. “It multiplies the power by at least four or five times. Going back to the fire-resistant cloak example, throwing some Yeti fur over your shoulders might yield a 50% increase to your fire resistance. Whereas a cloak woven by a master mana manipulator would yield 200%, minimum.”

This is important. When I imagine clothes with my ability, I must start imagining mana woven throughout them.

“If it’s not too much to ask, could you … could you show me what you mean?”

The husband and wife shared a look and a frown formed on Horace’s face. He gave a single firm nod. “Aight. But this is as far as we go. I’m giving you my trust here, lad. Don’t squander it by revealing this to anyone else.”

The man gestured to his storage ring and a thin square of muslin appeared across his lap. “Now watch closely. This is one of my favorite mana weaves and one of the easiest. I’ll create a windproof scarf by binding this fabric to a material with natural resistance to wind. In this case, I picked a stone-type material, the skin of a monster called a Granite Hyrax.” In his palm was a square of inflexible gray skin, cut and dried with a pungent preservative. It had the hue of granite, yet was mottled and striped like a tiger.

Horace arranged the square evenly across the muslin and sank into deep concentration. Tiny mana wisps extended from his palms and darted through the skin into the muslin, crisscrossing its entire width. The man was clearly well-versed in the task because the mana trails moved like lightning, flicking about the fabric as if possessed. A minute later and he was finished, grinning with pride as he passed the piece to Rin.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“Careful, the weave hasn’t fully taken yet. It’ll take a few hours for the mana to settle and bind into place.”

The scarf felt warm in Rin’s hands. He could still differentiate the monster skin from the original fabric when he studied it critically. But the difference disappeared while he watched, the skin becoming one with the garment while glowing waves of mana ebbed and flowed across its surface.

Can I imagine a weave like this straight onto my conjured clothes? Is it even possible?

Mikka’s words broke his concentration. “Looks like it’s time to enact the ‘guard duty’ part of the bargain.” She pulled a lever on the floor, clamping a brake against the wheels and forcing the trundlers to pause. The woman bobbed her chin, pointing ahead. “You’re up.”

The foreboding sounds of twigs rustling together made Rin’s head snap to attention.

Another stick devil hovered in the middle of the road ahead, fifty feet away.

Level 15 Whirling Stick Devil

Rin swallowed, cautiously lowering himself from the cart’s side. He froze when he realized his predicament.

I can’t use transmutation because they’re watching. If I use the wardrobe ability, they’ll know all about it. Maybe I can charm it. But that would reveal an ability, too. Can I trust these people?

He stepped carefully away from the cart, purposely distancing himself from the tailors to approach the monster from an angle. When he was thirty feet away, the stick devil seemed to register his appearance by swaying in his direction and tilting side to side in a curious gesture. It made no effort to attack, hovering there with its branches swirling in a rickety mess, watching him.

Looks like a good candidate for Charming after all.

The monster tilted farther to one side, suddenly noticing Horace and Mikka. The ball of sticks swelled, emitting a red glow and a keening wail.

It charged the cart.

Dammit!

Rin imagined his sleeves growing into long whips he could fling like a weapon. And their fabric was the flaming skin of a lava serpent.

Craven’s Infinite Wardrobe reacted instantly.

His sleeves shot out from his arms, launching forward to form his desired construct. They greeted the monster’s charge head-on. The Stick Devil screeched in pain when the first sleeve connected, its fiery length whipping around its center like a smoking rocket. When the second sleeve wrapped about it sideways, the monster burst ablaze, its sticks crackling and popping like dry tinder in a forest fire.

The flames crept back up the sleeves, making their way to Rin. He blocked the flames’ advance by conjuring bands of water-based trundler fur around his arms.

The Whirling Stick Devil uttered a harrowing shriek. With a final burst of embers, its sticks sagged to the floor. The monster was dead.

Enemy defeated

The following abilities have advanced by negligible amounts:

Craven’s Infinite Wardrobe

Rin dismissed his flaming sleeves. A pool of smoky mana essence lingered around the monster’s charred remains. He glanced at the tailors, finding their jaws hanging ajar.

“Gods above!” cried Horace, leaping from the cart and running up to the corpse. “You killed it without breaking a sweat. Dead in two shots!”

Mikka gave the boy a calculating gaze, her mind churning with money-making schemes. “Are you open to selling those clothes on the open market? You could amass significant wealth. We could assist you with our network of business contacts.”

Rin shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. There’s an ongoing mana cost. The ability only makes sense to use on myself.”

Mikka shook her head, half in disbelief. “That’s a pity.”

“Still, not bad though, eh?” A smug grin was plastered on the boy’s face.

“How, in the name of the gods, did you get that ability from a beginner dungeon?” she asked.

A grimace replaced the grin. “I can’t go into details. Let’s just say it took pain, persistence, and a boatload of luck. And it’s a good thing I persevered.” He waved his hand at their surroundings. “These Quiet Woods are far more dangerous than I thought. How did you expect to make it this far without a guard?”

Mikka huffed. “We did have one. Then, at the last minute, he was foisted from us by a competitor with the promise of more money and an easier task.” She glanced at her husband and sighed. “Horace objected, but I pressed to move on regardless. It’s my fault.”

The seamstress’s blatant admission stunned Rin. He’d fully expected her to lay the blame somewhere else.

Horace waved Mikka’s confession aside. “Never mind that, darling. Everything worked out in the end.” The man wrung his hands with a twinkle in his eye, beckoning Rin over. “Now lad, you wanted to renegotiate for the next stick devil corpse, and here it is. I told you ‘no storage rings,’ and I’m not budging on that. But after seeing your ability in action, I think I have something that’s even better for you.” Horace seemed genuinely excited.

With a casual gesture over his ring, he extracted a thick leather-bound book and handed it to Rin. Inside were pages upon pages of different materials, each mounted as a small square with a helpful caption describing its effects and origins. Each page of magical materials was interspersed with an empty spacer page of nullifying material, preventing the samples from interfering with one other and inadvertently damaging the book. Most helpful of all was that each page was categorized by elemental effect, with an entire page dedicated to ice materials, another for water, another for stone, and so on.

“It’s a swatch book. It has over two hundred swatches of different materials inside, enough to keep you busy for years.” The man looked exceedingly pleased with himself, raising his chin and rocking back on his heels with his thumbs hooked in his pockets. “I saw what you did with that lava serpent skin. If you work hard at it, this could take your ability to the next grade.”

“Deal,” said Rin, his head still buried in the book, his hands passing carefully over the various magical mediums, taking in their textures and wispy hints of mana.

The tailors harvested the monster blood and were soon back on the cart, resuming their journey on the winding forest trail.

The following hours passed in a blur as Rin interrogated them about the various materials and what they did. The clothiers were even more open with their knowledge now they knew what it would be used for. They also advised Rin what he should wear in the presence of others, from nobles to merchants to mages.

They ate a late lunch beside one of the many woody ravines flanking the trail. It was a hot meal delivered straight from Horace’s ring: onion soup with bread rolls so astonishingly fresh they made Rin’s mouth water.

It wasn’t long before the trundlers rolled them free of the boundless woods, courtesy of several stops where they were rewarded with a generous watering. The land opened up to an endless vista of grassy knolls and rolling swells once more. The bright green foreground was juxtaposed with the majestic Steppe range in the background, fading to hazy blues and grays as the mountains plodded into the horizon. The ceaseless breeze returned, laced with a hint of midsummer honeysuckle, and so cool it reddened their cheeks. Far behind them and to the right, Rin could pick out that strange column of stone leaning against the mountain near Craggton.

The swatch book consumed Rin’s attention for the rest of the ride as he attempted to memorize its contents. When the cart shuddered to a halt at a fork in the road, he popped his head up with genuine surprise.

“Well, this is it,” said Horace, jerking his thumb at the looming hill beside the road. It was a massive earthen mound, a hundred feet tall and spattered with heather-laden rocks tucked between wind-blown shrubs. “That’s Dead Man’s Barrow. Our road lies straight ahead to Strathburn and yours, north and to the right.”

The ‘road,’ if you could call it that, was little more than an old game trail, overgrown with weeds and long abandoned. A formidable vehicle like the tailors’ cart may not have ventured that way in years. It was difficult to tell.

“Unless you’ve changed your mind?” asked Mikka, noticing Rin eyeing the trail with a critical gaze.

“We could always use a strong young apprentice to back our efforts,” said Horace. “We would put your clothes ability to good use. I have no doubt it would grow by leaps and bounds.”

Rin shook his head as he shook the man’s hand, then stashed the book of swatches in his travel sack and hopped from the cart. “Thanks for the offer, but I can’t stand not knowing. I’ve got to find out more about that dungeon that disappeared. I want to see for myself what happened.”

Mikka hmphed. “The recklessness of youth. Well, do look us up if you’re ever in town. And thanks for your help.”

Rin waved as the tailors rocked and swayed in the ambling cart, eventually passing out of sight around the bend. Now they were gone, his feelings about the couple were mixed. Despite how rude Mikka had been initially, he’d warmed up to her and liked Horace from the start. They’d indisputably aided his efforts at getting stronger. Part of him wondered what it would be like to join them, journeying to different cities. It was a different kind of adventure, filled with the hope of wealth and success, a prospect he found tugging lightly at his heartstrings.

Who am I kidding? I want to explore. I always have.

The boy dropped his bag to the ground. “Time to get to work,” he said to no one in particular.

Rin promptly turned into a ball of sticks.