Alvery left the post office the morning following his confrontation with the villagers in significantly sunnier spirits.

He had a new plan of action, the residents of Aniselle had apologized and collectively left him alone, and even though he would have to sleep in a stranger's home and perform some farm chores in the near future, things were starting to look up again.

Though he did still on occasion still felt unseen eyes peering at his back, he brushed this off assuming that some villagers just weren’t used to a new face around town before the tourist season.

Having sent off his letter to Georgie, Alvery went to the tailor’s shop.

It was located down an alley cast in cool shadows, and because no sunlight couldn’t dry the cobblestones, the smell of damp earth still hung between the shop fronts from the storm the night before.

As he walked, Alvery noticed a deli with smoked meats hanging in the window on his right, with wheels of golden cheeses on display. He could smell fresh bread baking and felt his stomach rumble.

He glanced around himself and was grateful that no one was close enough to hear it.

Clearing his throat, he continued on toward the tailor shop, its black framed windows still splattered with rain, while the faded sign above the black door read:

Sew and Sew

Alvery raised an eyebrow.

He supposed a cute town needed fun names for their establishments to engage the summer visitors.

Pushing open the door into the shop, Alvery found himself in a shadowed, chilled room.

There were faded rose colored cushions in the window seat, and a matching ornate chair sat with its back toward an empty, cold hearth. The rich carpet that started near the door spanned the front room, and at its center stood a small dais and mirror for fittings.

Looking toward the wooden counter with its brass bell and cash register that was in desperate need of a polish, Alvery then continued peering around.

“Hello…?” he called out uncertainly.

Whispering and scuffling could be heard behind the heavy door that led to a back room on the other side of the counter.

After waiting patiently for another minute, the door flew open, and out stepped a modestly dressed woman in her early forties.

She had sandy brown hair pulled low in a bun, with a beauty mark on the left side of her chin.

“Good day, sir! So sorry we made you wait; we ordered a new bell for the door but it hasn’t come in yet. My name is Rose Sim. My father-in-law owns and runs the shop.” She smiled graciously, but even in the dim light Alvery could see weary lines etched around her eyes.

“Not a problem. I’m in town for a little while, but I’m afraid I packed too lightly for my trip. I was wondering if it is possible that there are already some shirts made. Maybe some trousers I can purchase and have a few adjustments made?”

Nodding with another smile, she strode to the end of the counter, then continued down a narrow shadowed hallway that Alvery hadn’t noticed was lined with cupboards built in the wall.

She pulled out several stacks of shirts in white and black, and then started retrieving stacks of pants. After rifling through each pile, she drew out two shirts and one pair of pants, then made her way back to the counter.

“If you wouldn’t mind, sir, putting these on, I can pin you, and my father-in-law will start working on them as soon as possible. The change room is just at the end of the hall.”

Alvery accepted the clothes, and at a cursory glance, could tell they were made by a fair hand…

As he made his way down the hall toward the changeroom, past the cupboards built into the walls, he heard the creak of a floor board…

Turning to stare with a squint, he listened to see if it was coming from the other side of the cabinet wall… But it had sounded closer than that…

Without thinking, he reached out toward one of the tall cabinet’s worn knobs, but hearing Rose Sim’s heels acho along the floorboards had him snapping his hand back.

“Ah, pardon the darkness, sir. My father-in-law tries to save on oil.” Rose bustled around the corner before lifting the glass covers over the wall sconces and lighting the wicks within, bringing a welcome warm light to the hall, and revealing plaster walls and wooden wainscotting.

Alvery nodded his thanks, but continued staring at the cabinet curiously before slipping behind the linen curtain to change.

Once he’d changed into the new clothes, he was surprised to find how much larger the clothes were on him, and so had to walk out while holding the hem of the pants up.

When he returned to the main room, he found that Rose was joined by a man Alvery assumed to be her father-in-law, only…

He was so hunched and shriveled that it seemed an amazing feat that he stood at all. A cane was clasped in his right hand, and small gold spectacles were perched on the end of his nose. A measuring tape was draped around his neck, and aside from that, he was clad head to toe in black.

“Father! Your customer is ready for you!”

Alvery jumped as Rose proceeded to shout to her father in law.

“Ah!” Turning around with a faint tremble, the tailor squinted up at Alvery, revealing his eyes to be a pale blue that resembled the sky in early dawn. “Come, lad,” the tailor shuffled a quarter turn, and gestured with his thin whorled fingers toward the round dais.

Alvery did his best to climb up with as much dignity as he could.

However he didn’t need to feel self-conscious for long, as Rose proceeded to do her work pinning first the sleeves of the white button down shirt, then its tail, before moving down to the pants.

Meanwhile, the tailor hobbled around the dais to stand in front of Alvery.

“Tell me, lad. Are you planning on staying in Aniselle for very long?”

“Er-” Alvery felt Rose tug at the waistband of the pants and did his best not to cringe in discomfort. “At least another month or so.”

The tailor leaned slightly to the side and nodded to his daughter in law, who released some of the fabric she had pulled around his hips.

Alvery straightened in confusion.

The old man chuckled softly. “Sorry, lad. Everyone here in Aniselle grows a bit comfortable, especially when here on vacation, I just wanted to try and save you some money.”

Alvery felt his face burn.

“It’s fine. I’ll most likely be doing farm work in the next couple weeks anyway,” he managed to reply while trying to keep the defensiveness out of his voice.

“Oh? Are you moving to town?” the old man asked.

“No, Mr. Sim. My travel plans changed at the last minute, so I needed a place to stay but the inn has already been booked for the season. So one of your residents, Mr. Cremont, he will have me stay on, but in exchange for a hand around the farm.”

Upon hearing this, Alvery found the waistband suddenly snap painfully tight around his middle.

He decided to skip lunch.

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“In that case, I expect I’ll be taking in your clothes in relatively soon,” the tailor chuckled. “Mr. Cremont is a fair man, but he was raised to work to the bone and he is not someone who is familiar with softness. Best of luck to you.”

Alvery cleared his throat, and did his best to appear disinterested in the conversation though he wished they would change the topic as his good mood sunk back down.

“Is your son also a tailor, Mr. Sim?”

“Oh, he was…” the elderly man’s face, while still pleasant, did sadden. “He passed three years ago this winter. Fever.”

Alvery looked over his shoulder at Rose somberly, then back to Mr. Sim. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Yes, I’m afraid it’s just my dear daughter-in-law and myself these days… but my son must be weaving cloaks for Lokin himself. I’m sure of it. He has my steady hands and his mother’s- Lokin rest her soul, her keen eyes.”

Alvery couldn’t help but be surprised.

Those that followed the old god Lokin were few and far between. They were the people who still believed in magic. The ones that had covens, and outdoor temples made of standing stones. Their homes humble, and filled with books of several types of prayers tied to nature and the miraculous. They tended to don robes like their god during their worship days, and once upon a time, were the culminating religion of the kingdom.

Most people had come to think of the old beliefs and stories as interesting legends and tales for children rather than an actual viable religion.

“I see I’ve caught you off guard,” Mr. Sim observed with a kind smile.

Alvery bobbed his head apologetically.

He didn’t really believe in any god, but he tended to keep that information to himself.

In Scarlem, he had been surrounded with like minded individuals who would welcome his questioning outlook and challenge of the greater powers…

However it felt like no where else in the world were there people who remain so open minded for the sake of knowledge and learning. Back in the capital and in his home growing up, people had been quick to judge, whereas those in Scarlem had been quick to ask, and develop a thirst for understanding rather than wielding the power of stubbornness.

A pang of longing echoed through Alvery…

He missed his Scarlem days more than anything.

“I know those that follow Lokin aren’t the most highly regarded, but what can I say… I still believe there is a bit of magic beyond the sciences.”

“Magic is simply science that hasn't been explained yet,” Alvery blurted before he could stop himself.

Realizing what he said he quickly looked to the tailor. “I’m sorry for my outburst.”

Diolla. I was just thinking about how I enjoyed the company of those less judgmental, and then I spout off with that?! What in the world is wrong with me! I must be going mad after the past year with the Gestov’s…

“I think there are some things that science may never be able to quantify, nor do I think it should be measured,” Mr. Sim responded good-naturedly. He didn’t seem the least bit offended, though Alvery noticed that Rose wasn’t as shy about accidentally pricking him…

“Which things do you think that applies to?” Alvery asked more gently, hoping to prove himself civilized.

Mr. Sim smiled, then hobbled over to the armchair, where he carefully lowered himself down. “I would say things like how your plans got changed, and you wound up being placed under the employ of Mr. Cremont. I think good hard work can help many young men and women clear their minds again.”

Alvery stiffened.

There was a funny knowingness in the old man’s eyes that in that moment, that did make Alvery wonder if perhaps the old tailor possessed a kind of magical foresight.

“You remind me of the peri girl,” Alvery murmured idly.

Another slip of the tongue.

Rose behind him stopped her work, and while Alvery couldn’t see it happening, he could sense she was looking at her father-in-law in that strange, suspicious way everyone in Aniselle looked at each other whenever Tiaznia was brought up.

“Well… the peri god and those that follow Lokin are far more alike than those that follow Diolla, that is true. For one, both of our histories recall that the gods were three brothers. Lokin being the oldest, Sarkal being the middle, and the youngest, Diolla. Those who follow Diolla believe he was the father to two sons, Lokin and Sarkal, and that Sarkal was a trickster…” Mr. Sim settled into his chair, a sparkle appearing in his eyes.

He seemed to like telling stories, even if it was common knowledge to most people.

“Did our dear peri girl mention something about a plan crafted by Sarkal to you?”

Clearing his throat, and feeling keenly aware of the fact that behind him Rose had not yet resumed pinning the pant legs, Alvery tried to answer as vaguely as possible, not wanting to call even more trouble to himself when he had just gotten matters back under control.

“Yes, she mentioned something to that effect. Not unlike yourself.”

Mr. Sim pondered this with a faint smile, and it was at that moment that the man looked like he was a thirty year old trapped in an old man’s body, and he was hearing about something only he knew everything about.

“I did think it a peculiar thing that she returned after the fire… so perhaps your meeting was indeed a clandestine one.”

“Father! We shouldn’t be talking about that girl!” Rose whispered behind Alvery, her voice desperate.

Alvery just about rolled his eyes in frustration. Again with the secrecy regarding the damn peri girl…

“Nonsense. I’ve not said anything troublesome,” Mr. Sim waved while he also reached into his vest pack and withdrew two small candies wrapped in paper.

“Would you like one, lad? They help keep the day sweet.”

“Er- I’m fine thank you. What fire was it that you were referring to?” The academic in Alvery refused to let such an intriguing tidbit go.

“Oh, the day the old tavern burned down. Tiaznia was blamed and cast out.”

“Father!” Rose stepped around Alvery and blocked the tailor from his sight. “He has no need to know about official town business! Now,” she whirled back around, unable to meet his eyes. “I believe I’ve pinned everywhere necessary; you are free to change back into your old clothes. Sir.”

Alvery let out a barely audible sigh, and nodded to himself while he made his way back to the change room.

As interesting as the story he had just learned of sounded… it was making him want to know more, and with everything he had to deal with, it was too dangerous.

While he changed in the small room in the back, with only a square window overlooking the back courtyard to the shop offering him any light however, he found that despite his best efforts, he was struggling not to wonder about the peri girl’s life. Perhaps once everything settled back down and he was free… perhaps he could come back and figure out what exactly was the story with Tiaznia…

He shook his head.

Once I’m free I’ll probably forget all about this place, and be back up to my elbows in my work. Yes. There’s no point dwelling on this if in another year, it won’t even occur to me.