Chapter 5: A Dress with Pockets!

Chapter 5: A Dress with Pockets!

In Lord Sinwen’s study.

Lord Sinwen’s tired sigh filled the room. His gaze wandered to the mountain of papers on his desk. Then, to the stack of papers that continued on the floor. I miss just being a warrior, travelling, fighting... exploring. A muted sigh left his mouth.

“Only a few left, dear.” Eli smiled. She sat to the side, helping to flick through the files.

“A few, huh?”

"I still can't believe Goddess Iara didn't give Astrid another class. Magic swordsman... it has been passed on for our entire bloodline. What do you think?" Eli said.

"If it's what Goddess Iara has chosen, then who am I to argue?" Lord Sinwen gripped his pen harder than usual as it creaked under the pressure.

A chap on the room’s door removed Lord Sinwen’s tired expression from his face. He straightened his back. “Come in.” His voice droned forward.

“My Lord.” A voice spoken with reverence was uttered, the man deeply bowed with his hand on his chest. He was wearing a military uniform. Grey bomber jacket with slim pants, tucked into a pair of high laced-up boots. A badge was sewn neatly to his chest, it was placed at his heart. It was an enormous ship with a pair of wings. The Humanity Corps. The long-standing military force on the ship.

“At ease.” Lord Sinwen said. “What’s the report?”

The man stood straight. “Astrid has already completed the last part of her training; survival. After the event within the Underbelly, she has taught herself exceptional spatial awareness. Her magic training is progressing at lightning speeds. She wakes up at dawn and continues until midnight, with the will and determination that’s rare to be seen. She is ready to take the exam.”

“She’s worked hard.” Eli said as she crumpled the page’s corners with her tightened fingers.

A smidge of a smile tugged at Lord Sinwen’s lips.

“But there’s something else, my lord.” The soldier said.

“Go on.” Lord Sinwen nodded.

“As you are aware, we fought back the Spawn and locked them back within the Underbelly of the ship two weeks ago.” The man continued. “But they are showing a renewed burst of strength. Filtering through the cracks, another section of the Lower District has undergone assaults. My lord, we can't wait any longer. We require the help of your troops. We need your support.”

“Then you have it. Let the elders know I am ready to move.”

“Of course, esteemed Spearhead.” The soldier bowed and left the room with haste.

Lord Sinwen turned to look at his wife. “Astrid will take part in the mission. I have a team of people I trust to be in her team.”

“This day was always going to come...” Eli said, craning her neck to the view outside. “The ocean has regained its calm waves, but now a great monster lurks within.” Eli clenched her hand, skin taught over knuckles. “In this world, she needs to gain the power to protect herself. We won't be here forever... I agree.”

Lord Sinwen grimly nodded. “Survival of the fittest. Fight, Bleed, and Die.”

A rock hurtled towards Astrid’s face. It was the biggest one so far. Instead of a rock, she was pretty sure it could be considered a boulder. It would have been easier to tell if she wasn’t blindfolded.

She immediately picked up the connection with the solid matter of rock. Her mind latched onto it, an intense heaviness tugged at her mind. As if she was sinking into a bottomless pit of water. The closer the rock inched to her face, the denser and deeper the water became.

Her brain was screaming at her, but she continued on. Despite the warnings. The approaching rock trembled... then stopped. The cold, solid object kissed her nose.

A wet trickle slid down the side of her face–wiping it away–she unwrapped the blindfold.

Then she glanced over at the expansive farms and grassland. The Farmer and Gardener classes had grown new grass and fixed the broken trees from the assault of Spawn. A gentle breeze licked at her arms. The smell of salt, citrus, and manure wafted. Things had returned to normal, at least in the upper district.

I wonder how everyone is doing down in the Lower District...

Entering the shopping district, she noticed a lack of people. I’m guessing they’re still afraid of the previous Spawn attack. The nobles have always been a fearful bunch. Hiding behind their castle walls and steel soldiers. Speaking of. She looked behind. The Sinwen guards, although less than before, trailed behind her. It was like she had a leash around their necks, pulling them forward. Or was it the other way round? Father is becoming more cautious. I guess it’s only fair.

The buildings around were made of the highest quality limestone-brick, taken outright from the Forgotten Cities below. Astrid stopped in front of an elegant building. Luscious magenta drapes were visible behind the crystal clear windows. Above the window was the title of the shop, written in beautiful calligraphy. The Noble Seamstress.

It wasn’t Astrid’s first time here, her and Eli would often come for all of their fabrics and thread. Working as a team to figure out the best combinations and colours. It was the only hobby Eli made time for; the rest taken up by the noble politics.

Walking in, she was met with the familiar smell of perfume that overpowered any semblance of the fabrics within. All of the materials were locked behind glass cupboards, showcasing their worth. She walked over to the counter where a young woman stood with her hands clasped in front of her.

“Welcome my lady, you must be Astrid Sinwen?” The young woman bowed, her cheeks flushed as she looked forward.

“I am.”

“Excellent. I’ll just let Master Graves know that you have arrived.” The young woman was about to turn when she continued. “I’m a big fan of yours. I heard you saved the commoners down in the Lower District like a goddess from above.”

“Thanks.” Astrid’s cheeks flashed a tint of pink.

“Yes, I heard the grace that you showed was ravishing. You were always the jewel of the city–when you weren’t running amok.” A familiar woman wandered into the room. It was Rumaisa Graves, the master seamstress. She was covered neck to toe in a long, flowing dress. A ribbon was tied at her throat, and frills were sewn into the dress as details.

“Miss Graves” Astrid emphasised.

Brows twitching, Master Graves said. “I suppose we better get started. I doubt you want to be spending all your time here while the sun's out.” Rumaisa said sarcastically. “Judging by your exuberant, ravishing eyes, you have a design you want?”

Damn woman. Rumaisa was a spiteful woman. Astrid still remembered the time when she told the master seamstress that she was wearing too much makeup. Climbing into a new dress, she found a stray pin stuck at its seams. A lost stray needle, Rumaisa said. Vile creature.

“I do.” Astrid said. She raised her arms, the armour scales on her arms and the armour plates rubbed together now and then. “I want something lighter, but still offering the protection I need.”

“Of course I'll help you.” Rumaisa said. “Please follow me through to the back.”

Rumaisa took Astrid to a large table through the back. Tools dedicated to the seamstress trade lined the wall in organised fashion. Scissors, needles of different sizes, measuring tapes, to name a few. Layers of fabrics lay under the table in arms reach for quick access.

“What do you know about being a seamstress?” Master Graves said.

“Uh, they make clothes.” Astrid picked up a piece of fabric on the table and caressed her face with the soft material. The cool sensation of it gliding across her smooth skin was amazing.

“Well, you’re right. But I meant in the way of a Wayfarer or Seafarer.” Master Graves plucked the fabric from Astrid’s hands and folded it to the side.

“Oh.” Astrid’s eyes sparkled. “It’s providing the garments that help boost the stats of the user.”

“That’s better, but,” Rumaisa continued. “It’s the job of a seamstress to be the protective layer between life and death. To design, implement, and create clothing for all environments. The ultimate piece of equipment an adventurer can receive is one that boosts their unique skills. Or the coveted set-bonus. However, these are incredibly rare. Even I struggle to make a full set.”

“Like the one my father has.” Astrid added.

“That’s right, the set of the Saviour.” Rumaisa said. “Although that’s by a blacksmith. But the same applies.”

They were interrupted when the ringing of the shop's bell transferred to the back room. Astrid peered through the crack in the curtains. A group of pompous young men and women walked in, their heads held high, without a care in the world.