Aliandra Myrin’s Keep was surprisingly extensive. Given the way her friends had described it, Ali had initially formed the impression that it would be a little hamlet, littered with trash and overrun with bad people like a pgue of rats. She and Mato had left in a rush in the quiet before dawn, almost a week ago, but now the streets bustled with activity and was not nearly as rge as Dal’mohra had been, obviously, but it was still rge enough that she had to call for a break to catch her breath.

  It doesn’t help that they all have such long legs, she thought as she trotted along. She could tell the others were slowing down for her, but she didn’t want to be a burden, so she had been walking as fast as she could, and now she was sweating and breathing heavily. There was always the option to i in a little more endurao improve her stamina, or dexterity so she could go faster, but her attribute would help any of her other skills.

  It was just like when she had been youhe other Fae simply flew everywhere, and she had been forced to scamper along on the ground trying to keep up.

  In Dal’mohra, there had always been the public transit system: the levitating disk ptforms manufactured by the Gnomish Engineering guilds that were always just a call away using her unication panel – but her pieagical teology seemed to be avaible anywhere in Myrin’s Keep. At least, she hadn’t seen signs of any advanced magic yet. There were a few carts and people riding horses – and one person at the magic academy had been flying – but for the most part, people walked everywhere.

  They’re all looking at us, she realized. Now that she had a few moments to pause and really look, she saw the gazes – many of which were cast in her dire – some curious, and more than a few looking away quickly as they caught her eye. What bothered her most was the shog amount of hostility and fear in some of the stares. For the most part, people were avoiding them, giving them a wide berth when passing, or even crossing to the other side of the street. It oor and rundown part of the town, but Ali was beginning to get the impression that was just how most of Myrin’s Keep was.

  “How on are Fae?” Ali finally asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. Iime, Fae had been a small, but sistent presen the Grove, of course, and participated actively in magical research for the various academies and uies iy.

  “Not unheard of, but rare,” answered.

  “I have never seeher than you,” Malika added. “Why do you ask?”

  “People are staring. Some of them seem upset.”

  “You get used to that,” observed.

  Used to it? It was making her decidedly unfortable, and she struggled to figure out how one could just get used to it. “I don’t uand.” The curiosity she didn’t mind much, but the rest of it was making her more than a little worried.

  “Especially among Elves and Humans, half-breeds and monster races are ofteed poorly, disrespected, or ht hated,” answered. His voice sounded resigo the ugliness he had just described.

  “I’m pretty obviously a refugee from Toria,” Malika added, “and Toria and New Daria are at war, so I’m treated with suspi by most people whnize my ary.”

  “They think I’m a monster?” Ali curled up her lip at the derogatory term ‘monster race’. Iime, it had generally beeo refer to such creatures as Goblins, Kobolds, and the like. Trolls onkin only if you wao start a war. But never Fae. Her race’s magical heritage had been widely respected.

  “Some people are just small-minded. If you’re not a Dwarf, Gnome, Human, or Elf, you get to be a monster race,” Mato answered. “I’m pretty used to it too. I’ll just punch them if they cause you any trouble.”

  “Or you just introduce them to your Kobolds,” said, sounding uncharacteristically grim.

  It slowly dawned on Ali that none of her friends fit the ‘normal’ profile in this town. She and Mato would be sidered monster races. Mato and were both half-breeds, and Malika was at best a refugee, and at worst an enemy. With new, warier eyes, she covertly studied the people around her as they resumed their walk.

  Her wariness hung about her like a dark cloud as they walked steadily, soon reag what seemed like a mert district. A sprawling marketpce. The ge imosphere was like night and day; where before people were avoiding them, now Malika was fending off overly aggressive hawkers and merts, eager for their . And foiling not a few would-be pickpockets. Ali never noticed them, but somehow Malika had a sixth sense for the cutpurses, and the reflexes to stop them.

  Not that I have anything worth stealing, she thought, ruefully smoothing out her tattered and burnt robes. I feel silly wishing for better clothes, it never mattered that mue before.

  It was about halfway through the market that she heard a otion and raised voices. As they turned a er, she saw three thugs wearing an embroidered eye symbol on matg yellow armbands harassing a mert at her stall.

  “The taxes have gone up. You haven’t paid enough.” The heavy-set man leading the group readied a wicked-looking trun as he grabbed for the mert’s wrist.

  “It’s too much!” the woman excimed, bag up.

  “It’s for your own prote, as you know,” he said, his voice loud and filled with s.

  Ali didn’t believe him for a moment, and by the looks of it, her did any of the onlookers.

  The o the front seemed to be doing all the talking, shoving the distraught plump woman back up against her pastry stall. The other two fnked him, gring at the crowd, with their hands resting on simir truns as if daring ao challehem.

  Warrior – Human – level 16-18 x2Rogue – Human – level ??

  “What should we do?” Ali whispered.

  “Nothing,” Malika said firmly. “They’re from the Town Watch. See the badge on their armbands? There are probably more of them hidden in the crowd, waiting for trouble.”

  “I want to punch them just as much as you do,” Mato growled, making Ali squeak out a halfhearted denial, “but Malika’s right. She will have to pay them, and then they will leave her alone.”

  “That’s horrible, they’re going to hurt her,” Ali objected. The pastry seller seemed frantic.

  “They might, but they won’t kill her,” Malika answered.

  “How do you know?” The thugs certainly seemed aggressive.

  “They’re sg the crowd into paying their prote scam. They might rough her up, but dead people are bad for business.” Malika looked down, catg her eyes, “The problem is the Town Watch is officially saned by the Town cil – we could be thrown in jail for interfering. If they hurt her, I’ll heal her after, ok?”

  Ali nodded, but she still felt awful for the woman.

  “If I pay that much, I ’t afford to buy ingredients for tomorrow,” the woman wailed, clearly beside herself.

  “That’s not my problem,” the leader mocked, smag his trun against his meaty palm. “Cough up, or I’ll have Adrik and Edrik e and pay you a visit.”

  There was a collective gasp from the crowd, and the woman’s face paled. As she stammered out an apology, she gave up a small pouch that ked irembling hands. The man snatched it from her, chug wickedly as he pocketed it.

  “Don’t fet to pay on time month. I won’t be so le iure.”

  His voice was clearly pitched to carry to the crowd, lending credeo Malika’s assessment of what was going on. The trio turned and marched off through the market with the crowd scrambling to get out of their way. As soon as they left, the crowd began to disperse, the market filling with subdued chatter as folk drifted off to whatever errands they had been on.

  It was Mato who broke their silence. “I’m hungry. What say you we sell this gear, divide the spoils, and then buy a couple of pastries as fuel for the rest of this delightful walk?”

  “Oh, delightful,” echoed.

  Malika snorted, “So much lovelier than I remembered.”

  “Food! We must feed the Bear,” Mato growled, patting his ample stomach as the others could not help chug.

  Ali gnced gratefully at him. While they were in the dungeon fighting Kobolds, Mato had gone over a week without food and had never onpined. It was a small gesture, but it took a little of the bite out of being forced to watch a shakedown, helpless to intervene.

  scaled the spartan steps, taking them slower than he might have in defereo Ali’s huffing and puffing, aered the garrison headquarters. It was a dour, squat stone building in the northern quarter of towled right up against the massive battlements that stood betweeown and the Myrin River – the border between New Daria and the kingdom of Toria to the northeast. The architects and stonemasons had probably been going for ‘military chic,’ but it came off more like ‘prison’ or ‘bunker’.

  The interior was just as stark as the exterior, a simple unadorone floor and walls, with a pin desk behind whi aide was busy filling in paperwork. waited patiently until the aide aowledged him.

  “How I help you?”

  “I’d like to make a scouti to ander Brand,” announced.

  “The ander is busy right now,” the aide responded, gng briefly to the side. It was a gesture that he probably didn’t even know he had made, but ’s newly enhanced eyes caught it easily. Following the gnce, found what looked to be a staff meeting in progress. At the head of the windowed feren, standing with perfect parade-ground posture, was a uniformed man with short-cropped gray hair and pierg blue eyes that exuded an iron will and discipline. Eyes that instantly caught his gnce, passed over their entire group quickly, seemingly taking in every siail even at that distance. saw his eyes pause at Malika, and then again on Ali, before snapping back to the feren.

  ander Brand. reized him from the drills the garrison guards sometimes ducted otlements. Doesn’t miss much.

  “… but I take your report,” the aide finished, seemingly oblivious to the attention of his ander.

  “Malika and I were kidnapped by Kieran Mori almost ten days ago, and sold as sves to the Kel’darran merts,” started.

  “That seems a bit impusible,” the aide interjected. “Kieran Mori doesn’t leave anyone alive, and the Kel’darran merts don’t let people go.”

  He doesn’t believe me? stared at the aide, his momentum stalled at the ued resistance, but Mato came to his rescue. Digging around in his pack for a moment, Mato dropped a set of bck handcuffs on the desk in front of the aide.

  “We recovered this from the wreckage of the mert wagons,” he said.

  Dubiously, the aide picked it up, but his expression turned immediately to shock. “These are highly illegal,” he excimed.

  “I know,” Malika chimed in. “I was restrained in those.”

  “Well, how did you escape then?” The aide’s disbelief seemed to be growing by the moment.

  “The caravan was wiped out, you find it about four days ride along the south road,” answered. “It was attacked by a dungeon-break provoked by Kieran Mori and his underlings. I observed hundreds of Goblins p out of the cavern, and they’re being lured here to Myrin’s Keep.”

  The aide simply let out a barking ugh.

  “Look, I don’t have time for childish pranks. The Torian forces are making moves on us as we speak, and I o take care of all this paperwork. Take your stories somewhere else.”

  suppressed a powerful surge of frustration at the obstinate aide. With an act of will he calmed his voice, knowing that an argument would simply make matters worse. “This is important, you must send scouts. I found Timber Wolf tracks, and we saw Hobgoblins. We even fought a warband with three Bugbears. Myrin’s Keep is in grave danger.”

  “Now you’re being preposterous, I told you to stop feediories. There’s no way you faced Bugbears at level ten and lived. Get out! Stop wasting the garrison’s time. We have important work to do.” The aide’s face was red, flushed with anger, and he rose to his feet. “Leave. Before I have you thrown out.”

  “Let’s go,” Malika said, putting a hand on Mato’s shoulder to silence his angry growl.

  As he turned, once again caught the ander’s keeudying them as they left. Maybe there’s more than one way to skin that aide! He bit off the uedly gruesome thought. Stupid politics. He’s probably afraid of Kieran Mori – or, w for him. Dammit, did we just make a mistake?

  Aliandra

  Ali reflected ohing she had seen so far as led them up a street called ‘Artisan’s Row’. The street seemed to be in a mixed state of disrepair, trash littered the sidewalks, and they passed several wrecked or burned-down buildings among the stores and shops that still appeared to be maintained – well, they were liveable, which was not saying much. It was much like everywhere else in Myrin’s Keep.

  This is a terrible town. She came to the realization after deg that Myrin’s Keep had no redeemiures to speak of. No that’s nht, she corrected herself. The courier’s bird was amazing. The pastries from the vendor in the marketpce had been delicious; perfectly fkey and with just the right amount of hot berry filling. But everything else is awful. She had seen a dead body in an alleyway the first time she had set foot iown, tless burnt and gutted houses, a shakedowreated like some kind of monster, and the guard at the garrison had been rude to them. She frowo herself before looking to see why had stopped.

  Standing before them was a quaint little storefront at the quieter end of Artisan’s Row, and it might have been charming if it didn’t look like it had retly been one of those burnt-out husks or abandoned buildings she had seen along the way. Obvious repairs had been done, but there were still signs of damage visible oerior. The sign on the door prog the pce as ‘Lydia’s Allure: Boutique Clothing’ was new and elegant at least, as was the lic-painted door itself.

  pushed the door open, and they all eo the sound of a magical chime apanied by the brief flicker of what seemed to be sound-affinity mana p a hidden entment.

  “!” A woman, clearly ’s mother, rushed across the room to catch him in a big hug.

  “Mom! We have guests!” His face immediately flushed a bright shade of tomato-red, his voice full of awkward embarrassment at her overt dispy of public affe, but his arms pulled her in close to his chest, returning her embrace.

  “Nonsense, your friends don’t mind a mging her son who has returned from the dead!”

  “I wasn’t dead,” he pined.

  “I thought you were,” she answered, her voice suddenly carrying a more serious uone. “I’m just happy you’re ok.” Her arms tightened around him one more time before she finally released him from his torment and turo the rest of the group.

  “Hi, I’m Lydia Avery, ’s mother. Thank you fing him back safely.” She nudged in the ribs with her elbow, “, why don’t you introduce your friends? I see you finally brought some girls home to meet me?”

  ’s blush deepened dramatically, and he spluttered, uo respond while his mother looked at him with a mock-serious expression, but Ali saw that her eyes were kled with suppressed amusement.

  While stumbled his way through the introdus, Ali smiled. It was clear that he cared deeply for his mother. And she, in turn, showed her affe by teasing him mercilessly. While he was being teased and introdug them, Ali indulged her curiosity and Identified Lydia, hoping she wasn’t itting some egregious breach of social etiquette.

  Tailor – Human – level ??

  Higher level than I read. Nice!

  Lydia’s ck of an affinity – a mana specialization – did not surprise Ali in the slightest. In Dal’mohra, only about ten pert of the popution unlocked a mana affinity and the specialized and enhanced skills and magic that went along with that. Among the Fae, though, it was closer to fifty pert.

  For many csses – martial csses, schors, and crafters – a specific affinity was not required. ral magiartial stamina-based skills, were more than suffit, but Ali would not trade her mage css and affinities for the world. It wasn’t eveent skills unlocked by the specific affinities – Ali felt her nature and are affinities were simply a part of who she was, like the color of her eyes.

  She took the opportunity to look around. Lydia’s Allure. Ali liked the sound of the name, and she could immediately see what ’s mother was trying to go for. The shop had a warm and inviting atmosphere, with a few fortable chairs carefully arrao break up the monotony of the space. Two or three mannequins sported stylish outfits, and there were several racks of premade clothing, bolts of cloth, and catalogs artfully arrao catch the eye. However, the interior was clearly unfinished, perhaps a work in progress following a very ret move.

  “Aliandra, Malika, I owe you for saving once again,” Lydia’s voice brought her back to the versation.

  “ did his fair share of saving too,” Malika offered, her expression guarded.

  “Aliandra, what happeo the clothes I made for you? Was the fit that bad? I’m really sorry,” Lydia excimed, as her eyes settled on Ali and the robes she had salvaged from a dead Kobold mage.

  “I got hit by a Fireball…” Ali said, for some inexplicable reason feeling embarrassed by saying it. “And a Lightning Bolt. Sorry, the clothing didn’t really survive.”

  “I burn this for you, dear,” she offered, pig at Ali’s Tattered Robes with an expression of disgust on her face.

  “It has resistances I need,” Ali immediately objected.

  “Dear, it stinks to high heaven, and it’s a rag. Barely a rag.” Lydia tsked as she plucked at it gingerly, clearly not wanting to soil her fingers. “I don’t have much to offer for bat armor, but I definitely do better than this. Where did you get it? It smells like Kobolds after mug about in the sewer.” Her nose wrinkled expressively.

  That’s … pretty much exactly right, Ali thought, embarrassed that she was stinking up the store without even knowing it. She had been underground, or traipsing around in the wilds, for so long that she no longer even noticed the smell. She wao kick Mato in the shins as he sniggered in the background.

  Before Ali k, Lydia had produced a notepad and was turnihis way and that, examining her from head to foot, making quiotes with an antique-looking quill. A fashion statement? Ali had always wondered how Tailors did it, but now she could see the flicker of magi Lydia’s eyes as she measured her with what resumably a Tailor-specific perception skill.

  “What do you mean you don’t have much for armor?” Ali asked. “ you do something with resistances?”

  “You must not be from around here,” Lydia said. “The big Tailuilds require many years of servid an iron-cd tract before they will teay of the more important armor ents. I didn’t want to spend my entire life in iured service to them, so I decided to branch out and start my own shop. I specialize in fashion and maybe level up a little if I make a name for myself.”

  “Why doesn’t everyone work on their own then?” Ali asked curiously. It seemed a bit of a predatory setup if someone like Lydia had to sacrifiuch just to learn the basitments of her craft.

  “As with most crafting professions, experience is gained when your work is used effectively in important or dangerous situations. Monopolizing the bat entments means that Tailors must work for the guild because the best experienes from adventurers, guards, and simir csses using your work to survive bat situations. In most cities, it requires a guild-approved lise to sell bat gear, and they make you pay through the o learn any of the entments. Unless you’re already indepely wealthy, the path to being a Tailor involves binding yourself to the guild and their ruinous loans. But I still earn some experience if a noble, a wealthy mert, or the mayor’s wife wears one of my dresses to an important social event. It’s not nearly as much, but it’s still something. And I have always loved fashion design.”

  Even if the situation seemed a little dire for Lydia, the insights into how the crafting csses worked were still fasating. Ali had inally been ied iher crafting nor bat, so she hadn’t paid too much attention to this aspect. But she had been aware that the best and highest-level crafters made items for the best adventurers – she had just never been curious about the why. It seemed that the retionship was symbioti more than just the business sense.

  If we wear her work, she will gain experience when we fight monsters. I hought about it that way. Ali o herself, deg that this felt good. Well, we will o be closer to her level for it to matter. Still, she liked the principle.

  Lydia looked up at Malika. “Your turn, dear.”

  “I… couldn’t afford anything,” Malika said, looking signifitly at the obviously high-end tailored clothing on the mannequins.

  Oh, I didn’t think of that! Ali suddenly remembered she had no way of payiher. She frowned. How am I going to tell her I ’t accept her work?

  “Yht home safely. I want to give you a thank-you gift,” Lydia answered.

  “I wouldn’t feel right accepting,” Malika refused, shaking her head firmly. “ saved me just as much as I saved him.”

  Lydia pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment. “Would you be open to a business proposition then?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve just opened my store, and I’m struggling to get my there. How about I give you an outfit to wear around town, perhaps to lunch? If anyone asks you where you got it, you tell them about my shop. Think of it as advertising for me. I will add o of clothing suitable for mug about in the sewers as payment.”

  “I…” Malika looked surprised aed. “I guess … I guess I’m ok with that – if it’s something you need, and if it helps you, I mean.”

  “It would be a huge help. I o turn a profit soon otherwise I won’t be able to pay taxes, my loans, and prote against the criminals,” Lydia answered, busying herself measuring Malika as Mato and exged gnces. Ali realized that probably meant to use his share of their loot to support his mother’s shop. “You’re really fit, you’ll make a great model. Maybe a little skinny, though. Are you eating enough? You have geous curly hair! What do you think of this color fabric?”

  Lydia fussed about Malika for a while, making small talk with a direct bluhat was both surprising and at times refreshing or unfortable in approximately equal amounts. At least, Malika’s expression hovered somewhere between being bamboozled, embarrassed, and unwillingly fttered. Ali decided that to ugh at her probably was not worth the arm it would cost.

  “Okay, this will take a little bit to finish. dear, please take uests upstairs and show them the bathroom. I’m sure you’ll all want a shower.” The emphasis o part, and her wrinkled nose, made it clear that it was closer to an order than a suggestion.

  ***

  The shower had been a taste of heaven; Ali had fotten what it was like to be . Feeling much happier, and rather rexed, she walked downstairs wearing a small towel because the bathrobes were way te. She sat down in one of the fortable chairs in the waiting area, enjoying the subtle interpy of magic as Lydia made the needle and thread blur with speed. While the notepad en oabletop, Lydia never once sulted it, pletely absorbed in her craft.

  “Here you go dear,” Lydia said looking up from the table. “Go try this on.” She handed her a bundle and poio a curtained-off fitting room. Just the feel of the fabrit a thrill of excitement through her. It’s so soft! Ali quickly ged into her new outfit, before stepping back out.

  “Wow, Ali, that’s amazing,” Malika said, as she joihem downstairs in a borrowed bathrobe.

  Lydia immediately fussed over Ali for a few moments, toug various seams and making them stretch or shift with deft flickers of magic flowing around her hands.

  “There, that should do it,” she announced. With a wave of her hand, she produced a mirror illusion floating in the air in front of her. “What do you think?”

  Ali stared at her refle in the mirror. The image that stared back at her looked like a noble or a wealthy mert. Ali barely reized herself. She was much more fortable with pants and a t-shirt, having rarely had the opportunity or desire to dress up. And here she was wearing a stylish burgundy dress that reached the ground, beautiful shimmery cloth slippers, and even a cute matg hat, all of which were artfully desigo show off her green hair and amber eyes.

  The style might have been sidered vintage or even old-fashioned by the popur is of Dal’mohra – perhaps something one might see at a historical festival, but Ali had already spied simir style outfits on several important-looking dies in town. But she didn’t care, it felt heavenly on her skin.

  Malika prodded her shoulder. “Don’t be shy, now. The mirror won’t bite you, I promise.”

  She twirled in front of the mirror, enjoying how the soft fabric flowed.

  “I love it!”

  Lydia was truly an artist. Ali had never imagined she would wear anything like this. Ahe outfit was fortable and uated, not gaudy or attention-grabbing simply for the sake of it.

  Lydia smiled happily and then handed Malika hers before returning to Ali.

  “What do you think of this for your armor piece?” Lydia asked.

  She handed Ali an emily more practical set sisting of a robust-looking pair of pants and shirt ily chosen shades of tan and beige. Ali examihem carefully, surprised to find out that it looked much like many of the items she had had in her own closet. However, the resembnce disappeared the moment she identified it.

  Tailored Cotton Clothing – level 15Resistance: 216Mana: Self-repair.Requirements: Intelligence 53Body – Cloth

  Ali stared at the item, feeling aghast and embarrassingly possessive in equal measure. This was an enormous upgrade over the sixty-seveance she had gotten from the old poorly fitted, tattered robes.

  And the self-repair entment… The number of times Ali had gotten her clothing torn, burnt, or otherwise destroyed was more than she could even remember. The armor was simple but well made, came as a set, and, best of all, they were sized to fit her, not a Kobold. There was no tail-hole, and Lydia had artfully included slots for her worthless wings to fit through instead of being forced to fold them up unfortably against her back.

  “This is incredible, I just couldn’t –” The Tailor’s eyebrows twitched meaningfully “– I mean, thank you so much!”

  Ali was truly excited about her new adventuring outfit. What’s that, triple the resistanbsp;No more almost dying in one shot to Lightning Bolts and Fireballs!

  “Self-repair is the only entment I do for armor, and I discovered that one by act. But I at least make something that suits your level and its higher quality than that horrible thing you were wearing before,” Lydia said, with a grin and a irely fake sniff of disdain. “Here let me put on the finishing touches, if you’re happy with it.”

  “Happy? She’s boung,” Malika pointed out.

  “Malika!” But Ali nodded, and then to her surprise, Lydia summoned an astoundingly plex formation of magical energy, maing it between her palms. It swirled and pulsed with a vibrahat made it seem almost alive.

  Ali stared openmouthed as Lydia separated the formation into two, joined by a glowing ribbon of energy. She reached out and pced one hand on the garments she had made, causing that half of the magical energy to io the fabric, spreading through it like rapidly growing roots. The other half sank into Lydia’s chest where it pulsed slowly, not uhe kernel of mana she had seen in the chest of her Kobolds. Slowly the energy, and the glowing ribbon linkio the tailored clothing, faded to invisibility.

  “hat was that?” Ali had never seen anything like it. The plexity was easily on par with some of the magic her Grimoire had produced.

  “My mana signature,” Lydia answered, chug. “I guess you see mana? I’ve heard that signatures look quite plicated.”

  Ali identified the item a sed time, curiosity burning like a fire within her.

  Tailored Cotton Clothing – level 15Resistance: 216Mana: Self-repair.Requirements: Intelligence 53Created by Lydia Avery.Body – Cloth

  There at the bottom of the description was Lydia’s signature. “All that for a signature?”

  “Look a little closer,” she suggested archly while handing Mato his new outfit.

  Ali blinked. Alright, someone was justly proud of her work and she had better respond accly. Burning with curiosity, she focused on the signature and willed it to give up any further detail that she might access.

  Mana Signature – Lydia AveryThis item was created by Lydia Avery.Experience gained while using this item is increased proportional to how much it tributed to the enter. The extra experience is awarded to Lydia Avery.Entment – Tithe

  A lot of things suddenly clicked in Ali’s mind. Tithe entments were a plex branagic that awarded experieo the person who provided a beneficial effect to another person. Not everything worked this way, but it seemed that crafters could use them, which expined Lydia’s ents about her gaining experienportant items. Ali khere were a lot more details, but she hadn’t paid much attention during those lectures because the professor had habitually droned on like a bored mosquito. And now that I want to know more, I don’t have access to the library, she thought, regretting her distra in that css. Although, he really was a snooze.

  It also expined why Lydia only bothered to put her signature on the expefits and Ali’s armor, but not on the adventuring clothes she had created for Malika. Malika’s gear had no armor or level requirement because it would interfere with her css, and so the item would not affebat in any meaningful way, and thus not affect the oute. They were just ordinary clothes. For the stylish outfits they po wear around town, presumably any profitable enter might earn a little experience, perhaps if they had mert csses, but more importantly, mana signatures were notoriously impossible to fake, and they were advertising.

  Ali sat back down to wait for Lydia to finish with the boys. While she waited, she gnced down at the bag had giveo hold her old Tattered Robes.

  I definitely don’t his anymore. She surreptitiously reached her hand into the bag and Destructed it.

  Variant: Tattered Robes added to Imprint: Armor.

  Fine, if I must. ’t see myself using that variant.

  Ohey were all ready, and all the outfits were adjusted to Lydia’s exag standards, she hugged goodbye and then handed him a gold .

  “Take them to Laurel’s,” she suggested. “That should be the perfect pce to show off. And be sure to tip well.”

  Ali didn’t have a good uanding of how much things were worth in this town, but judging from ’s surprised expression, and Malika’s shock, a gold for lunch was unheard of.

  What kind of pce is this Laurel’s?

  timewalk