After a day''s worth of travel, Ethan and Ashley found themselves back at Feywin''s workshop, the dense scent of ink still hanging in the air from the previous night. The duo had finally made their way from the heart of civilization back to the enchanted forest– this time with more ease than they previously had. With the Mithril armor and writing weapons in tow, they entered through the heavy door, greeted by Faye''s eager smile.


    "Good, you''re back. Oooh Mithril, didn''t know Gawain had some in stock, those are incredibly sought after, he must''ve had a liking on you. Hmmmn, I trust the forest wasn''t too troublesome?" Faye said, her voice warm and inviting. "And Feywin''s ink has finished synthesizing too, we''ll need to get those pens filled and perhaps go to the tailor tomorrow."


    "Yeah, the forest was a breeze—definitely not the longest trek we''ve ever had," Ethan responded, running a hand through his hair. He looked over at Ashley, who was mentally coiling and uncoiling her pen around her arm, allowing it to slither freely as if it was alive, clearly pleased with her new weapon.


    "Great, the ink''s finally ready," Faye said, gesturing to the jars of dark, swirling liquid that sat neatly on a workbench. There was a starry shimmer in the jet black ink. "Now, let''s get those pens filled up."


    Faye picked up her own staff and whispered the spell "ομαλ?νω (omalyno)." The staff transformed into a sleek silver fountain pen. From the table and demonstrated the process. "Here, you''ll notice a small screw at the back of the pen. Open it like this…" She twisted the end of the pen, revealing the cartridge inside. "Once it''s exposed, carefully slide the ink cartridge into place, making sure it fits properly."


    Ethan watched carefully as Faye continued, her practiced fingers expertly unscrewing the pen. "I assume the process is similar to fountain pens back home?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "Exactly," Faye confirmed, offering him a wink. "Only, with Quillmancy pens, there''s a magical resonance between the wielder, the ink and the pen. Now you try it."


    "ομαλ?νω (omalyno)," Ethan and Ashley casted, their pen returning to their fountain pen forms. Ethan''s spear was a dark blue fountain pen with golden etchings and a golden nib. It felt cold to the touch. Ashley''s on the other hand is a rather luxurious crystal pen, its design was translucent blend of ice and flame, this pen exudes a gentle warmth when touched.


    Faye continued, "Now, for the filling process—once the cartridge is in, simply apply pressure here at the base, like so." She demonstrated the slight squeeze that made the ink flow from the vial and into the pen.


    Ethan and Ashley mimicked her actions, carefully threading the pen''s cartridge into place. The ink soak through the nib, and a soft pulse of magic resonated over the handle. Ethan paused for a moment, feeling the connection between the ink and the pen, before twisting the end cap shut.


    Ashley, always the quick learner, remarks, "This feels... different," she muttered, twirling it between her fingers. "Like it''s alive."


    "It will be, in its own way," Faye smiled. "The more you use your Quill, the more it will respond to your thoughts. Just remember to keep it in good condition."


    With the pens now prepared and the ink settled, Faye gave them a nod of approval. "All done. Now, you''ll want to look the part. After we arrive on town tomorrow, I''ll let you look around for a tailor. You''ll have to use your own money for this one, I have a feeling that I have spend enough for both of you."


    "Don''t worry about it. We saved quite a bit doing bronze rank quests, we just wanted to get out of this forest soon," Ethan assured her.


    "About time, we''re tired of carrying bags. We can finally use our spatial storage once we get out of this forest," Ashley replied.


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    After asking around town gathering intel about the best seamstress in town, Ethan and Ashley found themselves at the porch of a rather shabby store. It''s eaves rundown by the ravages of natural wear and tear, the floor creaked a little to loud for comfort, and with a rusty iron sign swaying in the breeze. The place did not exude an air of craftsmanship, rumors has it that because of their outrageous pricing, customers rarely come to this place.


    "Was this the right call? We could still go back," Ashley said, displeased by the current state of the shop.


    "My gut is telling me this place makes high quality armor. Think about it, how come everybody complains about their outrageous pricing and yet still remain in business? The quality is likely to meet the price," Ethan replied, his voice wavered a bit, yet he was steadily gaining confidence as he continued to reason. There is a signage saying No Pets Allowed Inside, so they decided to make Peachy wait by the door.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    As they entered the shop, they were greeted by the sound of sewing machines clicking and the unmistakable hum of enchanted fabric being woven. The room was filled with light, coming from large windows with sunbeams filtering through the translucent curtains. The scent of fresh linen, leather, and metal mingled in the air.


    Standing behind a large, elegant cutting table was a tall Satyr with horns that curved like a ram''s, his muscular build and graceful posture standing in stark contrast to the delicate work he was engaged in. His eyes twinkled with a knowing, almost mischievous glint.


    "We should just get rid of the tattered roofs and leave it as is, let the sun beams come in," the satyr speaks to a hare-kin who seems to be his secretary.


    "But sir! What if it rains? We can''t cut corners with the budget for the roof," the hare-kin worriedly replied.


    "Buying a roof will put our business on the red. Besides, rain dampens creativity, we must not work at all when it rains or our product suffers quality!" The satyr retorted.


    "Ehem," Ethan awkwardly coughs, announcing their presence.


    The satyrs'' gaze flicked between Ethan and Ashley with an appraising, almost predatory look. "Aha! here comes the budget for the roof! My name is Tristan Tailor, I am known by many names, The Swift, Tailor Extraordinaire, the Most Handsome Satyr Alive, but you can call me Tristan. How may I be of service?"


    Ethan and Ashley exchanged glances. Ethan said, stepping forward, took out the mithril from his spatial storage. The metal gleamed gloriously in the light of the sun.


    Tristan''s eyes widened slightly as he took in the shimmering substance. "Mithril, no less. You''ve done well. This is going to make for some fantastic work. That''ll be 123 gold... 8 silvers... and 25 coppers."


    The duo was left speechless, how does he know the exact amount of money we have? down to the last copper!


    As if noticing their hesitation, Tristan added, "If you buy now that''ll be the price for both armor! and I''ll make it stylish!


    "Uhm... Okay?" Ashley, who was handling their finances replied with what seems like a question.


    At a nod from Tristan, his crew of halflings—each dressed in simple yet well-tailored outfits—began to move around them, pulling bolts of fabric, gathering tools, and preparing the space. It was like watching a well-oiled machine in action, each halfling moving with precision as they prepared to craft.


    "We''ll need to take some measurements," Tristan said, motioning to a nearby changing room. "Go ahead and strip down, I''ll get started on the designs."


    The fitting process was swift and efficient. Ethan stood still, while the halflings draped mithril-infused cloth around his frame, measuring the seams of his body with precision. Tristan worked quickly, sketching designs in the air with his fingers, leaving trails of glowing lines that solidified into patterns.


    Quillmancy. No wonder he''s skilled– he wasn''t an ordinary tailor at all!


    Ethan''s gaze remained steady, the seriousness of his expression making him appear like a figure of authority. Tristan''s hands worked with practiced ease, threading mithril into the seams of Ethan''s jacket, the material cool to the touch, but almost weightless. When it was finished, Ethan stood in front of the mirror.


    The result was striking. His long black coat had a sharp, tailored look, with reinforced mithril hidden in the seams and underneath the sleeves. The metal didn''t weigh him down; instead, it seemed to enhance his fluidity, giving him an air of deadly grace. The bracers fit snugly over his forearms, the runes pulsing softly with a faint glow.


    "You''ll be able to move fast and strike harder than most," Tristan said, stepping back to admire his work. "But you''ll still look like a gentleman. Very fitting for a teacher who hides a spear under his coat."


    Ethan gave a faint smile. "How''d you know?"


    "You burn the midnight oil by bringing your academic tasks at home which explains your baggy eyes, the calluses on your writing fingers and your slouched back—a deformity common with desk jobs. You can''t take your desk job at home unless you work at the academy. At first I thought you could be employed to any commoner day job, however, your conduct and demeanor was a dead give away of your ability to exercise authority when needed. You can''t be a noble as well, your funds proved to be a little... lacking. Need I say more?"


    "Impressive." Ethan remarked while thinking to himself his reading macro skill must be on another level.


    Ashley, on the other hand, was already swishing around in front of a mirror. Her outfit was distinctly different from Ethan''s: a casual, form-fitting tunic with a slight shimmer to it, paired with light mithril armor that blended seamlessly with her look. The bracers, designed for agility rather than raw power, glinted under the light. A pair of sleek leather boots finished off the look, perfect for someone who preferred speed and precision over brute force.


    "How do you feel?" Tristan asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "Cool," Ashley said with a grin. "Like a smart woman with a secret."


    Tristan raises an eyebrow, showed a deliberate glance at Ethan then looked at Ashley back. "Doesn''t look like much of a secret, does it?"


    "Shush. You''re too smart for your own good."


    "I''m clever. That teacher is the smart one, yet too dense to notice your feelings," with a sly grin he calls out to Ethan, "Professor, what is your take on students who are SMITTEN by their teacher?"


    "Nah, that just feels wrong," Ethan unceremoniously replied.


    Tristan gives Ashley a teasing look.


    "Well? I was his assistant but never his student," Ashley triumphantly replies.


    Stepping back. Tristan changes the subject, "You two look ready. When you need to make an impression, or when you need to make a quick getaway, you''ll be set."


    The halflings stepped forward to add the finishing touches—adjusting collars, adding hidden pockets, and even a few subtle enchantments to keep the clothing lightweight and resistant to wear. In just a few minutes, the tailoring was complete.


    As Ethan and Ashley prepared to leave, Tristan handed them a two more sets of their armor each with a slightly different design, "You''re our first customers in a long while, consider this a gesture of goodwill, I made sure to use all the Mithril you brought," Tristan explained with a wink.


    As they stepped out into the cool evening air, they felt an overwhelming sense of readiness. Whatever the day brought, they were prepared. They had the tools. They had the attire. And now, they were one step closer to whatever fate had in store for them.