DTK 29.1

AN: I got ritz back. Also, I'm trying out a new chapter structure for RR/Patreon. Individual chapters might be a little bit shorter while I play with it.

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Since my mom agreed to help, Sandy was moving most of our finished supplies to her workshop. The location was more convenient for me, and I wouldn’t have to avoid working around her. Not to mention the workshop was much, much bigger. We were going to have to repair more of the furniture to a usable state.

Now that we had a guest in our work shop for the first time since Valjean, mom was making me clean it.

We wiped down every window, leaving the glass windows a spotless and shiny yellow-brown. I sighed, regretting I couldn’t call out a set of clothes to make cleaning easier.

“Do you have a cleaning set to give us cleaning skills?” I asked my mom. She was wringing a wet towel out in a bucket.

“No.” She snorted, then smiled. “There’s enough people with cleaning classes around.” We turned to look at Maritha.

She grunted as she cleaned off the mop in her hands, putting it to the floor and pressing forward. She was short and stocky, but her arms bulged with muscles revealed by rolled up sleeves as she pressed forward.

She mushed forward and swiped the floor like a soldier charging into a battle against dirt, though she only made it a few steps before stopping. Despite that, she was still faster than us. Four identical clean spots appeared every time she swiped the mop across the floor, letting her clean it side to side. The floor shined after just a moment. In exchange, the mop accumulated five times the dirt,, stained black and brown. Maritha frowned at it.

Water dripped from the pile of furniture at the side.

“You really ought to clean this place more.”

“We don’t get guests much!” Mom replied, gesturing with her arms.

“No excuse for cobwebs in the ceiling!

“Well… my daughter hasn’t been keeping up with her chore list.” Mom swiveled and frowned at me.

“Don’t put the blame on me!” I replied, grabbing my own bucket and cleaning the next window. “We haven’t cleaned the place in years!”

“I didn’t thing we were keeping it!” Mom replied. “We would’ve moved out… god, this month, if…”

“What’s going on with that?” Maritha asked. “Sandy clearing the dungeon again? She’s going at it faster than before. You helping? I thought you stopped making fightin’ sets.”

“Fighting sets?” I asked, turning to mom.

“Oh, nothing I make anymore. Not like I used to.” Mom grinned evilly. “But I seem to have passed down my enormous talent. The curse of greatness falls firmly to my daughter. This town doesn’t have anything that could match one of my patterns.”

“Where did you work before?” I asked my mom. After diving deeper into crafting myself, I started to realize that parts of the story she gave me through childhood didn’t add up. It seemed obvious in hindsight, but she couldn’t have always lived in this village.

Mom opened her mouth, then paused.

“Glittering City.” Mari answered before mom could.

“The Glittering City?” I asked. “One of the capitals?”

Mari only grunted, sloshing her broom back into the bucket before continuing up the room. Water slid forward all around her, sweeping the floor clean before mostly disappearing, leaving behind only a wet sheen.

“One of the academies are there, right?” I asked, turning to my mom. “How far away is it?”

“A few days by wagon.” Mom said. “Wasn’t like I worked in the academies though. Just inside of a sewing shop. Whole teams work together for every singular outfit there, combining all of our skills to raise quality level of each piece.”

Mom smiled at memories of an old, old past. Then our conversation was interrupted by a pounding knock at the door. I took one last look at her, and then she nodded, and I rushed to throw the door open.

Sandy scrunched her nose.

“Smells like lemon in here.”

“Yeah.” I said, turning back. “That’s Maritha’s skill.”

“Better than how it usually smells, I guess.”

“Hey! It’s not that bad…” Sandy pushed past me, carrying a cart covered in leathers wrapped in paper into the workshop.

“Those look like normal clothes.” Maritha stared at Sandy over her mop, leaning on it as she stood up. She was shorter than Sandy — almost as short as I was, but she still managed to look intimidating there.

“What?” Sandy asked, visibly confused.

“Did you make those?” Maritiha asked me. Then she continued sweeping the floor, reaching the door and sending water cascading over mine and Sandy’s boots both. It quickly retreated away.

Sandy sent a confused look at me.

“Um…” I said, turning back and closing the door. “Maritha knows too.”

“Does everyone know?” Sandy asked, looking between me and my mom.

“Probably.” Mom said, shrugging and smiling consolingly. “Would you girls help me pull out some more furniture?”

Sandy sighed, but we got to work dragging out a few more tables from the walls. The pile threatened to fall when we pulled out individual pieces, searching for one or two that were usable enough. Finally, we pulled down a table that only suffered from a bent leg, resting uneven on the ground.

It scraped loudly across the tile as Sandy dragged it. Mom was already looking into the work cart she had brought out.

“Hmmm. Is this all you brought?” She asked.

“The good stuff is in the bottom.” Sandy said, pulling out a chair from where it was upside down and wiping her hand along it. A layer of dust covered her hand. She turned to Maritha. “Could you…?”

Maritha pushed her broom Sandy’s direction, water whipping out and covering the chair before dripping to the ground in thick, dirty rivulets that raced back up to the broom. Then she continued cleaning.

Sandy wasn’t spared by Maritha’s aim, a glob of water having hit her forehead and plastered her hair. She pushed the hair back out of her eyes.

“I’m going to smell like lemon for a week.” Sandy said.

“Only lasts seventy-two hours.” Maritha replied.

“Thanks again for helping, Mari.” Mom said.

“It’s not free.” Maritha said, turning to Sandy. “From you… I want more of what your dad made last week. And you… make me a magical outfit that makes my joints feel better.” She pointed the last bit at me.

“I… don’t have anything like that.”

“Well. Figure it out or I’ll sell you out to Henri.” Maritha said before continuing to clean.

Mom laughed.

“Henri already knows.” Sandy said.

“You don’t say? Can’t hide anything from your parents.” Maritha replied, almost done sweeping the room.”

I laughed nervously.

“Oh…” Mom said. “Could I come talk to Henri soon?” Mom asked.

“Yeah.” Sandy replied, frowning. “He’s… in the town hall doing paperwork.”

Oh shit. Henri knows that me and Sandy both are clearing the dungeon. I sent a panicked look at Sandy.

She raised her eyebrows at me.

“What is this?” Mom asked, having piled the goods out of the cart and to the side. She pulled free layers of the metallic armor from the copper mole. “I didn’t think the local dungeon had anything like this.” She said, frowning.

“I found it outside. In the Wild.” Sandy said.

“Is this why you need a mining outfit? The mine south of the town.” Mom said, still looking at it. “But you… your class doesn’t work with metal does it? You know what, no. I don’t want to know.” She waved her hands over it.

“What do you think?” Sandy asked.

Mom looked closer at each of the materials, appraising them. An uncomfortable feeling settled in my gut, a strange nervousness as she closely inspected each piece. Then she grabbed a piece of wolf leather and pulled it out.

“This will do fine.” She said. “Gwen, grab the thread… the red one. Seventh shelf.” Mom said. I rushed to comply, opening a well kept shelf full of supplies and pulling out spools of fire, wire-like thread.

Mom pulled out a pair of scissors seemingly from no where, holding up the sheet of processed wolf leather and slicing forward. A few perfect pieces of patterns dropped to the table, and she held the remainder. I watched more closely as her scissors easily parted hardened leather, wondering what skills she had that did that.

Mom nodded at her work, staring down before cutting a dozen more pieces in quick succession, leaving them piled on the table.

“Do you still remember the stitches, honey?” She asked, looking back to me. I nodded. “Do you want to work on those while I go talk to Henri?”

That nervousness in my gut got worse.

“I’ll go with you.” I said.