My mother always told me that “the practice of magic does not have to be exciting to be important.”

Everyone in my family of elves has been born a mage. My brother Tehlmar for example, is a respected cleric often requested by parties for combat missions to serve as a healer. My sister Alaris has a photographic memory and endless patience, making her a natural professor. 

And then there’s me - I’m a good tailor. 

It’s not that I have no other magical skills. Over the years, I have slowly been able to level up some arcane frost spells. They are not strong enough to be useful in combat, but have helped me keep myself safe when travelling in unsafe areas or doing fetch quests. 

But the mastery of even these simple abilities had taken longer then it did for most, and perhaps more importantly, had never filled me any sense of excitement or motivation. I had abandoned many quests half-way through and returned tomes to the library without even completing them. My siblings meanwhile, were always training and happily discussing their levelling over dinner.

In fact, it was one such dinner that helped me find out I even had a subclass at all.

My brother had come back in a bit of a mood. In some sort of tussle with a kobold, his favorite cloak had become singed. He had a training session the next day with his arch-mage and did not want to admit of the damage, as the cloak had been a gift only weeks ago. “I do not wish to disappoint him,” he explained, looking to the family for advice.

“Fanwen, weren’t you just learning some clothing repair magic?” My mother asked me, putting down her glass. 

“Well yes,” I replied, “But shouldn’t he bring it to someone more experienced, perhaps in town? It’s quite a rare piece of equipment.” The truth is, I had only even been experimenting with the magic as a favor to a friend, who didn’t have time to do a side-quest and was wondering if I would pick it up.

Tehlmar immediately perked up. “Oh sister, would you? Even if I left now, there’s no way I would get back it from that seamstress in time, you know how busy she is this time of year.”

And so that night I found myself at my crafting station, specifically the sewing table, with an ultra rare cloak. I expected to be nervous as I reviewed the impressive stats of the fabric, but strangely I wasn’t. Instead, I simply focused on channeling my mending spell and then began to sew. After only a few minutes, the cloak was as good as new. In fact, if my eyes did not deceive, it seemed nicer.

So I brought it to my brother, who confirmed it was in fact improved. He pulled up the stats. [+5 INT, +6 Defense, 15% mana regen per second when out of combat]. “That’s 5% stronger mana regeneration!” He exclaimed. “Thanks Fanwen.

And so I found my subclass.

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After that night, I took on every small quest I could to save up gold. I worked with the dryad seamstress in town, who helped me level up my crafting and let me keep excess fabric to experiment with my own designs. She even gifted me some pattern books when I was ready to move on.

Those years of grinding all paid off as I stood in that empty storefront in Windglen. My hands had shook a bit as I clicked [Purchase] for the space and watched the gold leave my inventory, but I knew this is what I was meant to do. 

Windglen was an adventurer’s town, close to a nearby forest that many low levelled fighters and barbarians frequented. After years of waiting, a space had finally opened up that I could set up shop. It was close to a tavern and potion shop, making it a natural stop for travelers with lots of foot traffic.

“We’ve done it, Rune!” I exclaimed to my familiar, a black cat with white spots. She immediately started sniffing the space and checking for any materials or loot the previous owner might have let behind.

Yes, the space was mine. There was a bit of dust, and the wooden floor had a couple cracks in it, but all in all was a great deal. The previous owner had sold hats and helmets, so there were some mirrors I could repurpose into some dressing rooms and a coin keeper already built into a front counter.

As I started to unload some materials and spell scrolls, there was a knock at the door, which I had left slightly ajar.

My unexpected visit turned out to be a male half-satyr, lacking the hairy goat legs but sporting the traditional horns sticking out of a tussle of brown hair. He was dressed well in a satin tunic that clearly communicated wealth. “The new merchant appears,” he stated, giving me a look up and down.

I found myself stealing a glance at one of the mirrors to see if my blue hair was still in place after a day of travelling. Nothing seemed amiss, although there were bags starting to form under my silver eyes. 

“Yes, Fanwen, pleased to make your acquaintance,” I said, holding my head high and trying to look confident. First impressions were important. 

“Enos,” replied the satyr, offering me a firm handshake. “Welcome to Windglen. Perhaps you’ll have more luck then the last tenant.”

I frowned. “What a strange thing to say to someone you just met. How do you know what happened to this place, anyway?”

He leaned against the open doorway. “So you haven’t heard of me, how interesting! My family runs the armory down the road, the Brass Forge.”

“Can’t say that I have.”

This seemed to amuse him. “Well you see, we are kind of the respected name around here for worn equipment. Heavy armor, medium armor, shields…”

“I suppose it’s a good thing I make cloaks, robes, and light fabric armor then,” I responded. I smiled, trying to remain pleasant even though I didn’t really like Enos’ tone.

“Sure, sure,” he said, tapping his foot lightly. “We don’t have as many of those to be fair. People just tend to prioritize getting stamina and health point boosts over…whatever those do. I only say that because of the unfortunate fate of the hat and accessories place that was here before. Poor halfling ran out of his investment funds and had to go back to his hometown.” 

“I appreciate the warning, but I believe I will be just fine.” I was ready for him to leave. “If that is all, I would like to return to my unpacking.”

“Of course!” He started to walk away before turning around. “Just wondering... what’s your shop name going to be?”

“Fanwen’s Fabled Fabrics,” I said proudly.

“Your designs inspire fables?” He raised an eyebrow.

I made sure to look him straight in the eye as I made the promise not just to him, but myself. “They will.”