“You needed me for that?”

“What, can’t do me a small favor?” I scowled at the woman, crossing my arms.

“It’s not that.” Scyla shook her head, sighing as she did. “It’s more so, you came all this way, just for that. You do realize there is a mail directory if you really needed to send a letter.”

“Yeah, well I need to send a letter discretely.” I countered.

“Oh?” Scyla seemed intrigued. “What could be so important that you’re sending discrete letters?”

“It’s not anything like that.” It was my turn to shake my head. “Rather, it isn’t the contents of the letter that is important, but considering who I’m sending it to, there could be… connections made between my past and now.”

“Ahhh.” She nodded as if it made sense. “So, someone that the current ‘you’ has no real reason to have any connection with.”

“Exactly.”

“So, who do you need this letter sent to in question.”

“Tez Scarlet.” I announced, before frowning. “What?”

The moment I had spoken the name, Scyla’s normally blasé attitude seemed to sour, scowling.

“Is something wrong?” I probed, trying to figure out the issue.

“No, nothing.” Scyla shook her head.

“Oh, well that’s a relief.” I sighed. “I was afraid-”

“Actually, you know what, I just find it funny how-”

Uh oh.

“-how I just finished asking you on a date-”

So, that was a date then.

“-and here you are asking me to send a letter to a past fling.”

“Past, wait, what?” I stared at her, shocked. “Past fling?”

“Yes, past fling.” Scyla stated coldly, staring daggers at me.

Thankfully not literally, I’d had my fair share of being attacked by flying daggers for a lifetime.

I couldn’t help it.

I laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Scyla questioned defensively, crossing her arms with a rather crossed expression.

Yes I am proud of that pun, thank you very much.

“It’s just funny.” My laughter petered out, as I composed myself. “This is the first time you’ve been completely wrong.”

“Explain.” Scyla demanded, expression still icy cold.

“Well since you know Tez-”

“Of course I do.” Scyla interrupted, annoyed. “You think, considering what our family does for a living, I wouldn’t know the identity of a nizeium adventurer?”

Oh, she’s nizeium now?

It made sense in hindsight. With the ‘successful’ dungeon quest, though I doubt anyone involved would have called it a ‘success’, she officially had the requirements to be considered for nizeium. At that point, it made sense that it was only a matter of time before she was formally recommended the rank.

“Tez and I have history, but it was never anything like that.” I said with a simple sigh.

“Oh, really? Most of the reports I have of your activity around the woman suggested otherwise.”

“See, that’s where second-hand accounts can be wrong.” I huffed. “Honestly, you should know that yourself. I’ll admit, while Tez had an interest in me-”

Scyla’s eyes narrowed as I spoke, so I rushed the rest of my sentence out with the haste of a man digging his own hole.

“-it was only ever one-sided, and never genuine to start. She had a crush on me because of what I represented, but aside from our dungeon quest together, we never spent any real time together.”

“Hmm.” Scyla considered my words, before at last her expression thankfully softened. “Fine, I guess I’ll believe you.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“So, why are you reaching out to this Ms. Scarlet?” Scyla questioned, now that her frosty expression had warmed, it was replaced with a look of curiosity. “Is there something you need to take care of, something that you yourself alone aren’t enough to handle.”

“No, actually, nothing like that.” I chuckled. “Rather, this letter isn’t really meant to reach Tez, as it is to reach someone else.”

“Oh?”

I smiled warmly, the memories of the woman replaying through my mind, in the short time I’d met her she had taken me under her wing, believed in me and pushed me forward.

She’d nearly died because of it, but last I’d heard she was living a safe, happy life now.

“Her god-aunt. She was a low rank adventurer, she took me on a commission, the very commission the led to me becoming an adventurer.”

“And what do you need with a low rank adventurer?”

“She retired from being an adventurer.” I corrected. “But it’s not her experience as an adventurer that I need her expertise in. Once upon a time, she was a scholar, a tutor in Songhold.”

“Ohhhh.” Scyla snapped her fingers, putting the pieces together. “This is about your teaching.”

“Bingo.”

“So, by sending it through Scarlet first, you’re adding a second degree of separation, it would already be suspicious if anyone discovered you sending letters between yourself and Ms. Scarlet, but someone of your station sending letters to a random no name ex-adventurer-”

“Hey.” I cut in. “Be nice.”

“Sorry.” Scyla raised her hands in apology. “So, you’re looking for professional consort with a former educator. Going the distance for this job, aren’t you?”

“More like I’m trying to not end up fired.” I sighed. “So, can you take care of it?”

“Sure, easy enough.” Scyla shrugged. “Though it might take a day or two extra, what with the ceremonies tomorrow.”

“Oh, right, that’s tomorrow.” I’d been only half-heartedly tracking details of the ceremony, not particularly interested in over-the-top events such as it.

“You probably should take more interest.” Scyla drummed a finger on her thigh as she spoke, “You do realize the regent-to-be is more than likely going to end up being one of your pupils, right?”

“Eh?” I stared at her, taken by surprise. “Wait, what?”

“Gods and lords above.” Scyla shook her head, dismayed with my apparent lack of consideration. “You really didn’t take a single moment to actually consider that there is also the kid aspect of being a teacher, did you? Or of just who these kids will be, important figures.”

“I-” I frowned, closing my mouth mid-response.

I hadn’t given it much thought, I’d been too caught up with what it meant from my side of the spectrum.

“Okay, but what makes you think the regent-to-be will specifically be one of my students?”

“I know you don’t often use that pretty little head of yours, but I suggest you try.”

I opened my mouth to come up with some clever retort, but once more found myself closing it before I could ever speak a word.

She has a point. If the regent-to-be is being sent here as an act of goodwill, and the magic division exists as a compromise-

“Oh.” I said softly. “I guess that makes sense.”

“There you go.”

It should have been obvious to begin with. How would you truly show unity, and extend an olive branch? By having the regent-to-be, the next in line of the monarchy who represented the will of the kingdom, to be directly involved with their main point of contention, reconciling the anti-magic and pro-magic factions.

It was brilliant and simple, at least from my perspective.

Which isn’t saying that much, but whatever.

“Why didn’t anyone warn me sooner?” I bemoaned.

“Maybe everyone, and by everyone I mean the Director, just assumed you would realize it already?”

“Well, I didn’t.” I frowned, feeling like a child throwing a tantrum after discovering they’d been withheld from a secret. “So, I should probably go to this ceremony then?”

“I would say so, yes.” Scyla agreed.

“How would you feel about going with me?” I asked Scyla, simply not wanting to be left to my own devices.

“While I appreciate the thought-” Scyla winked at me. “-I’m afraid I must decline. I will be quite busy once the regent arrives, and anyway, I’ll be attending the ceremony as a part of a special ‘delegation’ if you will.”

Right, she’s a V.I.P, probably shouldn’t have bothered asking in the first place.

“That aside, are we still on for our play?”

“Yes.” I didn’t completely forget how she’d called it a ‘date’ earlier, but I chose not to bring it up. “But that isn’t for a few days anyway, or did something change?”

“No, just checking.” She answered. “So, what will you do now?”

“Well, I was thinking of visiting the library, but since I guess I’ll be at the ceremony tomorrow, I should probably get ready for that.”

“Word of advice, if you want to make it anywhere close to the regent, trying wearing something nice.”

“You make it sound like I’m plotting something.” I frowned.

“Not at all. Unless you think you can somehow set up a one on one meeting with her, in which case maybe I should go to the ceremony with you.”

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

“Now whose plotting?”

“I kid.” Scyla said with a smile, though I wasn’t sure I believed her.

“Soooo.” I looked around, a sudden awkward silence hanging around us. We were in her study I’d been in not too long ago when she’d sent me on a cat and mouse chase, Scyla had been in the middle of sifting through some reports when I’d been admitted entry. “Is it about time where I get sent running because you’re ‘a rather busy person’ or something along those lines?”

“Quick to catch on.”

“Well, I’ve been hearing a lot of that lately.” I sighed. “Should I wait for your butler, or should I just see myself out.”

“Levus knows to expect you at this point, so you may leave at your own discretion.”

“Well, if that’s the case, I guess I’ll just be going.” I nodded to her, before awkwardly shuffling away, and quickly leaving the premise.

Outside, I saw my cab waiting for me, a different driver than I’d been using. After what I’d heard about my prior cab driver and what she apparently felt of me, I’d made it a point of relying on her less often.

“Sir.” The man nodded to me. “Where would you like to go?”

“I think I’m in need of some ‘finer’ clothes,” I answered.

“Ahh, a thread weaver then.” The man nodded to me. “I happen to know where the best thread weaver this side of the continent has set up shop.”

“Hmm, I wonder about that.” I chuckled once, the memory of an enigmatic thread weaver making me doubt his claim.

“What was that Sir?” The cabbie questioned me, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing.” I shook my own head. “Well, if you know a place, please, if you will.”

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

“And here we are, Sir.”

“Well, this is quite the place.” I stared out at the building we had stopped in front of. “A little… pretentious.”

“Indeed, Sir.” The man tipped his wide hat. “But, the owner is indeed skilled, only the well connected and nobles come here.”

I wonder which of the two he believes I am?

Preferring to keep it a mystery, I disembarked, making my way toward the thread store.

It was… something, that was to say the least. The entire building looked like some oversized and deformed loom, as if the point of what the store was for was being forcibly driven into whoever passed by to understand.

“Oh, and Sir?”

“Yes?” I paused just as I was about to open the door, turning around to look at my cabbie.

“Would you prefer wait for you here, or would you like to go sightseeing on your own?”

“You know what.” I gave the man a quick nod. “I think I’ll do some sightseeing, before the festivities tomorrow.”

“If you insist, Sir.”

Conversation finished, blissfully short, I at last entered the thread store, taking a moment to take it in.

It was, much like the outside view…. Something.

Mannequins were everywhere, dressed in strange abstract styles of clothing, some distorted amalgamations of the styles of Haerasong, others mimicking, the styles of Thlahzae or Varana.

‘Mimicking’ putting it kindly.

“Well, hello Sir.” A voice spoke out from nearby, drawing my attention to a rather flamboyantly dressed…

Well, I wasn’t sure if they were a man or a woman, dressed entirely androgynously with hair that could have represented either gender.

“Hello, uh-”

“Erin Ledel.” They smiled pleasantly at me. “Owner of this fine establishment.”

Didn’t expect the owner to be out wandering the main floor themselves.

“Do I take it you are here regarding the ceremonies tomorrow? Or perhaps looking for a last-minute adjustment?”

Oh. Well that explains why they’re out here themselves.

It was more than likely that those who would be appearing in the store would be those looking to make impact at the ceremony, each and every one of them important and notable in their own rights.

Then there was me. Technically I guess I was ‘important’ though not in the fashion that the standard crowd for such a place would generally be.

“I’m here for the ceremony. I was informed I should perhaps look for something more… appropriate.”

“Well then you came to the right place.” They smiled at me before gesturing wildly. “First, is there anything that specifically catches your eye?”

“Uhh…” I looked around, searching for something that didn’t feel so… abstract, before finally pointing toward one of the mannequins, clad in a long black coat with golden buttons and a puffy white collar.

“Oh, a more conservative approach. Hmmm.” The store owner eyed me up and down for a moment before nodding. “Yes, I do believe that style would suit a man of your stature.”

Not sure what that means, but I’ll roll with it.

“Do you need, like, measurements or something?” I raised an eyebrow at the man, since my last time directly interacting with a thread weaver, I had only ever bought rack ready clothes.

“Well yes.” They nodded to me as if it were obvious. “But, before we move on to such a step I believe it would be prudent to know more about you.”

“Know more about me? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Why everything of course!” They nearly shouted. “Clothes must reflect the person who wears them, not simply something for mere presentation without ever once considering the deeper reflection of our identity within the clothes themselves!”

“Err, I guess?” I wilted from the suddenness of their outburst, a response I hadn’t been expecting.

“Apologies.” They bowed their head to me briefly. “It is simply the creed of any true artisan to ensure that their art, if it has their association, that it truly embrace that memento, that thought.”

“Right, yeah, I guess I’ve heard something along those lines before.” I had a rather vivid recollection of the thread weaver from years ago lecturing something similar to my younger self.

“If that is the case, first, I must know, what is it you do for a doing? You may speak in relative terms if your business is of rather… personal fields.”

Aka if your status comes from criminal routes, don’t spill it.

“I’m a teacher, or rather I will be soon.”

“Oh? Are you perhaps going to be a professor at the academy?”

“How’d you get straight to that guess?” I narrowed my eyes at the store owner, but they shook their hands rapidly in placation.

“Oh, well it is not much of a leap to come to such a conclusion. After all, not just any academic professor would find themselves in an establishment such as this”

Right, money. Only those teaching the upper echelons have the sort of money to be here.

“Right. So, what else do you need to know?”

“Oh, well, a young strapping man like yourself, will you be attending the ceremony with someone on your arm?”

“No.” I answered instantly.

“Single than.”

“Yes.”

Now, don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t saying as much because I wanted to try my luck with more woman, it was just that I still wasn’t even sure what I felt about Scyla. Id agreed to go on a date with her, but that was a far shot from saying I had any deep emotional connections to the woman, and I was certain that someone such as Scyla would feel similarly, I was an object of interest rather than something to be pursued seriously. It was nothing more than that.

Or so I hoped. Else I would find myself at the wrong end of a wronged Scyla.

“So, a young single professor. I do hope you’re not looking to rob the cradle of any of those families who you’ll be tasked with educating their dear sweeties.”

“Uck, not at all.” I said with disgust. “I have no interest in such underhanded act, hell, I have zero interest in a bunch of kids.”

“Ahh, but some of the attending students won’t even be much younger than you.” The shop keeper winked at me, but I shook my head instantly.

“No, nope, not at all, no. That’s a one hundred percent no.”

“I kid.” They laughed, lightly covering their mouth with one hand for a moment. “Call it a test of character.”

“And why was that needed at all?” I frowned, not the biggest fan of being taken for a ride as I just had.

“Character, is of course, important to the process.”

“Rightttt.” I let the word stretch on for a moment before glancing away. “So, any more questions that will undoubtably unnerve me?”

“Not at all hun.” They said with a quick chiming giggle. “Just looking at the rawness of your physique, I can tell you’re not just a simple bookworm. Rest assured, I can fill in the rest of the blanks. You are an interesting specimen to say, an academic, yet so much untapped violence, a body that-”

“Can we perhaps stop referring to my body like that.” I cut in, beginning to feel uncomfortable with how vividly they spoke of me.

“Apologies hun.”

“It’s fine.” I waved it off, before chuckling. “So, what are the chances an interesting induvial gets a discount?”

The store owner laughed loudly, seconds ticking by before they finally calmed down, the exaggerated laugh thankfully disrupting no one else given I was currently the only other customer here.

“You are a funny one.” They smiled at me, before shaking their head. “Hah, as if anyone has ever heard of something as preposterous as that. Truly, a charmer you are.”

Well, tried my best.

I did my best to hide the sigh, glancing away.

Guess that thread weaver from back then really was an oddball after all.

“Now that we’ve taken care of all that, it is time we move on to measurements.” The store owner whipped out, from what appeared to be thin air, a measuring tape, stepping toward me. “If you would, spread your arms out, pull the sleeves of your shirt back, and stand absolutely still.”

Doing as I was instructed, upon pulling back the sleeve of my right arm and revealing the divine wrap, the store owner peered inquisitively at me.

“It would be best if you took that off if you want perfect measurements.”

“Err, can’t.” I shook my head instantly. “It’s, uhh… I’ve got a case of Eskhas.”

“Oh, deary.” The thread weaver frowned, tsking silently to themselves. “You poor thing.”

“It barely bothers me.” I dismissed their comment, smiling. “But it’s better I keep the wrap on, as I’m sure you understand.”

“Yes, I’ll measure around as if it were your arm as well.”

I smiled briefly, but it wasn’t in thanks for the store owners understanding. My little lie had paid off, Eskhas was a rather… nasty sort of disease. Few found themselves victims to it, in best case scenario it was a skin disease that would cause the living body to decay when exposed to the open air. In the worst case, it simply ripped the life from the victim, the only traces left behind a layer of thick scales that covered the internal organs upon autopsy.

From what I knew of it, when taking the form of a skin disease, the resulting decayed skin would smell like rotting rot if such a thing were possible. I’d judged the store owner as someone who didn’t want to risk such a smell permeating their store.

Remaining still, the thread weaver went about measuring me, poking and prodding at times to have me readjust my position before telling me to once more hold still.

Fifteen minutes later, and I was finally allowed to relax as the owner muttered over a notepad of my measurements.

“So, will everything be ready for tomorrow?”

“Of course.” The owner nodded, smiling pleasantly. “Now, their will be a slight upcharge for rush jobs, but I’m sure you understand.”

Damnit.

I bared with it, forcing a false smile. “Of course, such things are simply the price of a business.”

“Ahh, see, you truly are an understanding gentleman.” They rubbed their hands together, perhaps a bit too gleefully before looking over some things on their notepad. “Now, I believe we should cover the subject of the payment.”

Gods above help me.

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

“Gods can’t exist, else prices like that have to be a sin,” I muttered to myself as I left the store behind me. I was lucky I’d gotten my payment from Scyla, as the price of the clothes had equaled it and then some on top as well.

At the very least, the clothes, as I was informed, would be waiting for me at my door tomorrow morning, when I’d jotted my address of where I was staying down on some official-looking slip of paper, the store owner’s eyes had widened with glee.

Like they just found out I’m a rather plump mark, ripe for the taking.

“Jokes on them, I have zero intention of making this a regular thing.” I said, walking down the sidewalk. I was in the nicer side of town, though not much of the town could be considered anything but nice for the most part. Every once in awhile I would notice someone else going for a walk, the pleasant warm ocean air blowing gently through the air making for a rather enjoyable and relaxing experience as the rays of the sun shone down upon us.

Happy to see I’m not the only one who had the same idea.

Still walking about, no real destination in mind, I slowed down, something catching my eye across the road from me.

There was what looked to be an old man, struggling to hold themselves upright against a building. I looked about, searching for anyone who seemed at all like they were about to help the man, but when no one man a move to approach him, ignoring his existence entirely, I jogged across the road toward him.

That’s the issue with the nicer areas of these cities, no one wants to help a single old man out.

Reaching him only moments later, I stopped, speaking softly to the man.

“Are you alright?”

I was reaching out, about to tap his shoulder, when suddenly the man sprung around, catching my hand with agility that took me by surprise.

“Why, I’m doing wonderful.” The man said, the cheery words coming from only one half of his mouth, the other half of is face slack as if-

“Wait.” I stared at the man, shock than suspicion coloring my expression. “I know you.”

“Oh, have we met?”

“I’m certain.” I snapped a finger, putting the face to my memories only a second later. “You’re the old man with the ring!”

“Why, old is a rather rude thing to say.” The man said, still holding my hand with steely strength.

“I, what, how?” I was confused, but it wasn’t exactly impossible for an old man to have decided to move to a nicer city such as this.

Just, it was alarmingly coincidental to have stumbled upon him again.

Releasing me, the man leaned on a cane that I could have swore hadn’t been there a moment before, smiling at me as if I were an old friend.

“So, how do you do, boy?”

“I’m… fine?” I was uncertain what to make of it all, but suddenly a thought struck me. Grappling with my hand, I pulled free a single ring, presenting it to the man.

“Oh yeah, this is yours!”

The man eyed the ring, with what appeared to be a mischievous glimmering his eyes, before shaking his head.

“Don’t need it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Said I don’t need it.” The man grinned, his mouth missing several teeth. “Anyway, I believe it has been of more service to you.”

More service to me?

I could parse what the old man meant, but only a moment later he suddenly yanked me down by my shoulder, so that my face was directly next to his.

“A word of advice kid. Gentle breezes may bring placidity, but storms brew upon the ocean currents which birth such days of simplicity. Beware the quiet storm that arrives from the horizon.”

There was an intensity to his gaze, eyes filled with fire and brimstone, but it was gone in an instant, the old man releasing me.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

I opened my mouth to say something-

What, I wasn’t sure, but I had to say something after such an intense exchange, but the moment I opened my mouth to say something, the man was gone.

Not gone as in the man had scurried off or something.

No, he vanished right before my very eyes.

“Well.” I closed my mouth, looking around to see if anyone had seen what I’d just seen.

When no one moved, or so much as raised an eyebrow to approach me, I shook my head.

Guess that explains something.

The man, was very clearly, not just an ordinary man.

“So, monster, vengeful spirit, or wandering revenant?” I mused, looking down at the ring in the palm of my hand.

Well, guess it really is mine.

Perhaps if I was younger, the incident would have caused more shock, more of a reaction, but after years of strange encounters and mysterious magical monsters and enigmas, it was simply another notch in the notebook of strange occurrences.

Maybe a little stranger than most, but I wasn’t about to bend over backward trying to make sense of something that may have been nothing more than the fact that I’d caught the attention of some prankster spirit.

Except.

That last comment hadn’t sounded like much of a joke.

It had been a warning.

But of what?

“Beware the quiet storm.” I muttered, pocketing my hands as I began to slowly make my way back to my lodging, only slightly unnerved.

Whatever kind of warning that might be, only time will tell if it’s something to fret about.