"So, I have to ask," I wrote while trying to lean on the table with my hand on my mask. "How many of you are registered with the explorers' organization?"

"I am not," The Priestess said.

"I have not taken the time to join." The Mage said.

"I haven't had the chance yet." The Hero said.

"Not me." The Archer said.

"Haven't," The Shieldbearer said.

They all spoke at almost the same time. While minor, the shock of them all being unregistered, was enough for me to lose what little grip my gloves had found on my mask. While it was possible to stop myself from slipping, I wasn't in the mood. So, I ended up slamming the forehead of my mask into the table in a comical manner. I let myself stay like that for a minute, hoping that when I lifted my head, someone would tell me they had been joking, but that was too much to ask.

"You alright?" The Archer asked without moving from his relaxed position. "That looked kinda painful." He said, just before he started chuckling to himself about either my pain or some unknown joke in his head.

"I assure you that I am fine." I wrote while lifting my head, ignoring the worried looks from some and the stifled laughter from The Archer. "I was merely surprised that all of you are unregistered. I suppose that will be the first thing we do tomorrow." I stood from my seat before weaving a new message. "For, tonight, I have other business to attend to, I ordered new clothes, and it would be highly rude to be late for the pickup." I displayed the message while pushing my chair underneath the table.

"Alright, We'll meet in the guild plaza tomorrow morning then." The Hero used my words to close the meeting for everyone, saying where and when we should meet, while also standing from her seat. "I'd stick around. But, like Mask, I have other stuff to do tonight."

With everyone giving their own sort of reply and goodbye, the table of people dissipated out the restaurant's door. Without anyone having ordered any food, much to the annoyance of the staff.

In the light of the setting sun, I arrived at the tailor from earlier in the day. The shops on either side had closed up for the day, and if I didn't know better, the one in front of me would have looked closed as well. The streets were near empty at this time, the only people around being those whose nature was questionable, not that I was one to judge. The street lamps were lit on this road, but I was sure if I took a step too far off the beaten path, the city would be as dark as a forest at midnight.

Inside the store, I was greeted with the same sight from before. A view I hadn't taken a more substantial interest in the earlier in the day, but I chose now to rectify that. I investigated each piece of clothing. Some had clear signs of repair as if they had been damaged by a blade rather than normal wear and tear, and others looked brand new. Each was unique while avoiding bright colors outside of trims and accents. I knew the style. It was a famous one in the homeland of the Arachne. But, it hadn't always been.

I drifted amongst the suits and dresses, observing the story each told. The stitch marks, the thread count the creases and the repair marks. I saw in the gathered pieces the growth of the maker. I could see the story of someone young and dedicated with enough talent to succeed, growing into someone with the experience to create masterwork clothing. Not every piece was a masterpiece, far from it. But occasionally, I saw an outfit fit for royalty. I saw in some of these clothes a deep sadness, a loss, and in others, an unmatched glee.

I never was good at making things. I'd learned from others to see the beauty in crafts like this, but I never could create with my own two hands. Maybe I had subconsciously recognized what I was looking for in this store, or something else had drawn me here, but I knew my choice was not random. The style was too similar to one I knew. I felt sad that a woman of such talent clearly didn't get as many customers as I'd hoped. Maybe it was the capitol's love of vibrant colors, or perhaps it was to do with her reaction to my request earlier in the day. Whatever it was, I didn't get the chance to dwell on the thought, as I heard a small cough from behind me.

When I turned to look, I saw the Arachne from before, exhausted, but standing tall in my presence. She saw my mask turn towards her and took the opportunity to speak. "Your order is finished. Come see if it's acceptable." She didn't wait for me to respond before quickly moving through the curtain to a back room. I followed soon after.

Behind the curtain was a small room with a simple set of chairs and a table, to one side was a small closest sized space with a curtain and a wooden door in the back, likely leading toward the working area of the shop. The Arachne sat in one of the chairs, her legs and front arms crossed with a stern expression spread across her face. On the table was what appeared to be my requested clothing.

I took the seat across from the Arachne without a word. I looked over the cloths, checking the seams, the patterned threading on the interior, the pouches and straps, the clamps inside the hood, and everything in between. I was about to hand over the payment without a word when I noticed something slightly bizarre about the clothing in my hands.

"This isn't made with the materials I provided." I tried my best to avoid having my written text seem accusatory. The materials used were of a higher quality than what I provided, and nothing about them indicated that they would produce any other issues. "What prompted the upgrade?"

The Arachne's mouth spread into a beautiful smile at my question. She didn't say anything, only stood from her chair and went over to the door. She cracked the door just enough to reach into the room and grab something off to the side and pull it through the small gap.

What she held in her hand was an exact copy of the outfit I currently wore, the coat that looked a bit too long to be comfortable, the sleeves that strapped to the wrist so they wouldn't move, the white mask ordinary in many cultures, it looked identical except one thing. The one in her hand was missing its right sleeve, the only sign it had been there was a charred remnant at the shoulder.

"I didn't recognize it at first. My mother last told me the story ten years ago, so it took me a bit to recognize the design. You don't think that something like this is easy to forget, but I had." She placed the outfit on a hook to the side of the door before returning to her seat. "So, cultural significance?"

If only I could laugh to show how humorous I found the situation, but that was not something I could do, not here. "Yes, cultural significance. They are an old design, made by my teacher..." I started telling her a falsehood, but she held a hand up to stop me from writing before I finished.

"How old is that coat you're wearing? Thirty years old?" She said with a knowing smile.

The Only response I deemed fair, was a nod to indicate she was correct.

"And the one over there, how old do you think it is?" She gestured to the charred outfit, then waited for my response.

With what felt like a pit in my stomach, I gave as precise a response as possible. "Fifty-seven years, four months."

"So exact. Mother always told the story of your first meeting slightly different, ranged from fifty-five years ago, to sixty years ago." She let her eyes settle on the coat on the table with a sadness hidden behind them. "She waited for you. She said you were the reason she stayed dedicated to the craft. Talked about how you saw past the designs for what the maker felt when they made it." She chuckled a little before speaking again. "Dad got jealous whenever she told the story about how you snuck around when she was making the one you have on. How you kept your arm wrapped in whatever spare cloth you could find, even used a torn pair of underwear by accident. How you stuck to the dark parts of the store while you waited for her to finish." She looked up at me with not a small amount of confusion in her eyes. "Why did you never come back? I know mom wanted to see you again, and dad would have been fine with it as long as you didn't steal her away."

"I never needed to." I lifted the undamaged arm of my current coat for her to see. "Your mother did an amazing job, and I haven't needed to replace this one until today." I showed the other sleeve, the one torn during the tournament.

"That can't be the only reason, can it? You know how she felt about you, didn't you?" She cut through my half-truth and asked something I would prefer she didn't. But, I responded nonetheless.

"Yes, I knew. That is why I needed to stay away. If you live as long as I have, spending time with races with shorter lives will only cause pain for everyone involved. I stayed away to save us both that pain, But I now know that it didn't work."

"I'd have to agree." She said softly, "She spent a long time making this one. Full Arachne silk, where she could." She gestured to the coat on the table. "Checked everything a thousand times over, but she was never satisfied, not really. I never understood why she was so sure you'd come for another one, But I have a hunch." A small tear formed in her eye, which she quickly wiped away. "Half upfront, and the other half on delivery of a satisfying product, right?" She said with a sad smile on her face.

I reached into my coat and pulled out two things, the first, the payment owed to the woman in front of me, and another, a wrapped package with a letter.

She took both, clearly bewildered by the second package. "What's this?" She said.

"The letter is from your mother, even if that's not who she was when she wrote it. She said the chance was high that I would meet her children one day after she was gone if she had any. Something about, being the best family of tailors the world would ever see." I pointed to the package next. "The package is the second half of the payment I owed her for the one I am wearing. She never would take it."

She took the letter off the top of the package and opened it. It must not have been long because she finished reading it rather quickly. Perhaps it wasn't as emotional as I'd thought. But, it was not my place to pry.

Setting the letter down, she turned to me and said the one thing I hated hearing now, more than ever. "Thank you for everything you have done for my family."

I didn't reply, I only grabbed the items from the table, and proceeded toward the exit, but before I could leave, the Arachne spoke one last thing that I felt needed a response.

"Scorche, I might leave the city at some point, but if that coat ever wears out, come find me. I'll have a new one for you." She wore a dazzling smile while speaking, so bright that it might strike someone blind.

I turned my head to face her and wrote my response. "If it's as good as the last, I won't be needing another for a long time. But I will remember that." With that, I turned and left the store.

Dear future child.

Wow, that sounds dumb, but this is the fifth time I have tried to write this, and Scorche leaves tomorrow, so I gotta get it done.

Let me tell you this, the man in front of you is far too old. I don't know what he's seen, but whatever it is, he's seen enough of it to cripple you or me. He doesn't like to get attached because of that. If I could, I would get him to stay, but he won't. I wish I could listen to more of his stories, I wish I could be friends with him or more, but he's a wanderer of the stubborn kind. The first time we met, he was just a customer of my mother. 20 years later he came back to have the outfit remade, that's when I got to know him a little better.

Now that I think about that, it's probably creepy to hear me talk about a guy, considering I had you and was probably married. HMM. Well, I'm not writing another one.

If you are reading this, then know this. You owe this man your life because he saved mine. No, I don't mean that literally. He'd probably punch me if I did, and his punches are kinda painful.

He took a pretty big fire blast from some bandit for me. Well, the entire town really. That's where the name Scorche comes from because you see, he doesn't have a name—lost it a long time ago, according to him. So he takes whatever name others give him, and I called him Scorche as a joke, so he used that while dealing with us.

I'm rambling on paper. How do I do that? Moving on.

What I mean is that he is the only reason I stand here today. And he is the reason I didn't give up on my dream of becoming a tailor.

I won't tell you about his secret. He'd absolutely punch me for that. But I will tell you this, if he's unlucky, he will see you have kids, and they have your grandkids. He'll walk these lands and suffer every moment that he does. He'll lose everyone he loves time and again, and the only thing you or I can do for him is to make him the best possible clothing we can. That's all we can do because that is all he will let us do.

Oh, I know he hates this, so I gotta have you do it. Tell him, thank you for everything he's done. He's a bit of a baby about that. Thinks that he shouldn't receive thanks when all he did was kill something. Might try and walk out on you, so if you have any other business with him, hold off on saying it.

I don't know if I will still be around when you get this letter, or if you will ever get it. But, know this, I love you. I love you so much that I would die to protect you. I would sow the stars together for you if you asked, and I wish you nothing but the best. So please, follow your dreams, even if it means going against what I want from you.

Best wishes, Your Mother. I wonder what I named you.