The days passed fast, and soon it was time to leave for Palogne on the blimp. Mireille however was feeling a bit nervous. She eyed the gangplank to the blimp with apprehension. The blimp was getting ready to leave—floating just a few feet off the ground. A few feet higher than Mireille had ever been.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, kept her hand on the railing, then walked. It was only ten steps, but it was still nerve-wracking. Finally, she felt her foot hit blimp’s wooden deck.

“What’s taking you so long? Its only a blimp. Are you nervous?” A voice asked from behind her.

The [Seamstress] opened her eyes and looked back. “Of course I’m not nervous, you just have to to...” She looked at the deck she was standing on, then up. She pointed up. “You have to make sure the balloon is in good condition when you step on a blimp, you know. Its part of my class.”

“What, really? Is it in good condition?” Fayette asked, suddenly eyeing the balloon with wariness.

Good, looks like she bought it. Mireille turned to examine the balloon. Firm leather, and tight seams. Nothing looked out of place. “Everything seems to be in order, let us proceed.”

First secret, Mireille really wasn’t as cool and composed as she strove to make herself seem—but she would never let Fayette see that. She had her pride to maintain.

She made a brave effort of stepping forwards, but still found herself clinging to the railings along the cabin wall. She did not like the... loss of control. The solid ground beneath one’s feet was one of the constants in this world that you could trust. She did not like handing over that trust to any artificial ground—if it were to fail, there was little she could do.

“Gee, the wind got your hair all tangled again. Give me a moment.” Fayette said as she followed her in and began tidying up her hair.

The familiar, comforting touch managed to ease her nerves, and Mireille felt herself relaxing. The others at the orphanage had always found Fayette’s fussy habits tiresome, but Mireille had never felt that way. She had always felt it was rather calming, really.

In fact, her hair had not gotten tangled up by the wind at all. That was secret number two—her hair was not actually that tangly by nature. Rather, she always made sure to mess it up just a bit whenever Fayette was around. That girl grew nervous whenever there wasn’t anything to clean up.

“All clear! Get ready for take-off!” A voice shouted out. Mireille clung to the railing tighter as she felt a lurch in her stomach.

“Hey, it’s your first time flying, right? You should really go take in the views. The first time is always special.” Fayette said as she finished getting the tangled hair in order.

“I suppose you’re right.” Mireille sighed. There was truth in that, she had to admit. It wouldn’t do to hunker down like some scared mouse. She pushed herself off the cabin wall and walked to the bow of the craft. A vast horizon spread out before her.

Mireille felt her breath catch as she saw the familiar terrain spread out below her. She could almost make out some of her favourite spots in the woods, and seeing them all from this perspective reminded her of how small it all was.

It’s such a vast world out there, and here I have been, stuck in this small corner all my life. She turned to look at her friend, who was looking at the landscape, a bright smile on her face. It was the expression of someone setting out on an adventure, an expression of freedom. Mireille envied it just a bit.

Can that girl really become a hunter? I don’t think things will be as simple as she thinks. Mireille had to admit that there was a certain appeal to the path of a hunter—it was not a symbol of freedom in stories for nothing. No superior to bind you, no schedule to adhere to, no hometown to trap you. That was how it went in all the stories.

Secret number three: Mireille was actually tempted by the career of a hunter. She knew the stories were exaggerations, and reality would disappoint, but still... There had to be a grain of truth there. The stories had to come from somewhere.

But would it really be like that? I can’t imagine it’s too different from any other organisations. Even the orphanage manages to devolve into a mess of bickering factions at times, what would a powerful guild look like? Still, it’s not like my path is much better...

Still, she was not like Fayette; She wouldn't rush to a new path without carefully considering the alternative. These days, it felt like everyone was heading out to the big cities. There had to be some sort of reason for that, right? She would see for herself before forming any judgements. But, she would add the path of a hunter to the list. It needed investigation too.

A [Seamstress] had limited options these days—she hoped that pay in the city would be good enough to get some savings going, but that was not a sure thing. Opening her own boutique would take a lot of levels and funds, things she did not have yet. Based on the news, even level 25 [Seamstress] classes were not that in value, especially if they held the wrong specializations.

A sewing machine needed no levels to work, and could match lower level classes easily. When someone then got actual specializations that worked with the machine... The output of a normal [Seamstress] was just not comparable at all.

I really ought to give the man who invented those machines a piece of my mind.

“Hey, what’re you spacing out for? Here, I’ve got sandwiches!”

Shaken out of her brooding, Mireille turned to look at the sandwich her friend was offering. She gave it a good, dubious stare.

“It’s been quite a while since I’ve tasted your cooking.” She narrowed her eyes. Something was off here. “You’re a [Maid] aren’t you? Why haven’t I tasted your cooking for so long?”

“Ah, well, there were other people for that at the mansion, so I never got to do any cooking there...” Fayette admitted, blushing slightly. She steadied her expression, then pushed the sandwich over. “Still! I am a [Maid] after all, and cooking is a [Maid’s] work! From now on, I’ll be doing the cooking for us!”

“Well, alright then.” Mireille said as she took the sandwich. White bread with some chicken in between—by all measures, it looked like quite the delicious sandwich. Fayette bit into her own one with relish.

“Aaah, that hits the spot. They never did get the seasoning right at the mansion; I wonder why the [Cooks] never listened to me.”

The [Maid] seemed to be enjoying hers well enough, so Mireille decided to give her own a try. She brought it to her mouth and gave it a good bite. Her eyes instantly watered.

Spicy! So damn spicy! Is this why they never let her cook? Does she actually enjoy this?

Mireille brushed the tears out of her face and looked at her friend. Fayette seemed to be enjoying the meal a lot, at least based on the smile on her face. The [Seamstress] realised that she was in trouble.

She just said she’s going to do all the cooking, and I don’t think I can get her to budge on that. She can get very particular about her way and views being the only right ones. I’ll be in danger if I let things go on like this. I’ll have to act.

She spun her mind into overdrive, letting the thoughts whirl and knit a plan into form. She had worked on Fayette’s uniform just a bit before, and she knew the spices were probably somewhere in there. She had her plan. First, a distraction.

“Hey, Fayette, look! Is that a spilled drink on the deck over there?” She shouted out while vaguely pointing at a random point on the deck.

The [Maid] instantly perked up. “What! Cleaning work? Where?” and turned to look to where Mireille had been pointing.

Next, the heist. [Needle Control]. A needle with some thread attached to it started to silently creep towards the [Maid’s] apron. Mireille felt the cloth make contact with her needle, letting her skills work on the threads within. She closed her eyes to focus.

[Adjust Garments], [Take Measurements]. She was very familiar with this piece of clothing, so it was not difficult at all to get a mental picture of the various pockets and pouches around it, and how the things inside those pockets felt. The subtle ways in which the cloth was weighed down let her search for her target. Hmm, this one, maybe? A small packet, with something grainy inside? The pocket isn’t being weighed down much by it—could be her spice stash.

The needle moved through the apron like a viper hiding in the grass, slipping through seams and openings. Mireille moved it carefully, taking care to not alert the [Maid]. Eventually she felt it near her target and managed to hook a thread through the packet. A few quick shortcuts were made and closed with [Adjust Garments] allowing her to pull the packet back right through the clothing, into her waiting hands. The openings closed behind as the packet moved, leaving no traces of the thievery. She confirmed that it indeed was a packet of spices, and quickly hid it into her pocket.

[Wow, that was some superb needlework. Keep up the practice!]

[Progress towards next level: 30%]

Mireille was pleased to hear the messages. Interesting, looks like offensive needlework has some good potential indeed.

She generally got levels from anything in which she used her needlework; the class was rather loose about that. However, finding new challenges for a [Seamstress] was difficult, and she often had to get creative.

The whole process had taken only about 4 seconds, and Fayette was none the wiser. Her face was one of confusion as she tried to find the spilled drink. Mireille used the extra time she had to tangle her hair up a bit—now that she had awakened the girl’s cleaning instincts, it would be best to give her something to work on. Eventually Fayette turned back.

“Mireille, I don’t see anything. Where is it?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I guess I was just seeing things.”

“Gosh, look. Your hair’s gotten all tangled again! Let me fix that.”

Mireille leaned back into the familiar hands as they began the usual ritual.

I guess it would be a shame if she just ran off somewhere far away. How much do they pay hunters anyway? I guess I do really have to consider that seriously... Besides, can I really leave this girl alone?

The airship travelled on, and a few days later, arrived at the city of Palogne.