Bret’s jaw drops and his mouth hangs open as he stares at me with a flushed face.

Ela looks back and forth between us, and upon seeing Bret’s expression, her face is graced by open amusement.

“Given the look on your face, I’d venture to say that you’re satisfied enough to pay, hmmm?” the seamstress says with a smug smirk.

Bret blinks and his mouth closes. “I am, but I’m not sure that I can afford to pay for what you’ve put together here.” He sweats buckets, scratching his head.

“Don’t worry about that.” The seamstress waves her hand dismissively. “I haven’t had such a willing subject for a long time.” She grins broadly. “In fact, I thank you for bringing Hana to me. There’s something in her face that reminds me of folks up in Morga, so I thought the look would suit her, and I was right!”

Bret laughs nervously, nodding. “Never have I seen such strange clothes. Not a one around here would wear such frippery, but on… ahem… on Hana here, it looks good. But…”

“That’s precisely why I’m giving you a steep discount on my services,” the seamstress interrupts with a grin. “I made these clothes years ago and since no one’s wanted to buy them, I’ve long since considered them to be a hobby expenditure.” She shrugs and her lips twist. “That having said, getting something for them on top of having the pleasure of dressing cute little Hana up,” she says as she casually reaches out and pinches my cheek. “I feel that I’ll consider it fully repaid after we discuss what I want.” 

I gasp at how quick her arm reached out, launching like a viper. She seizes my cheek between her fingers and gives it an affectionate tug. I blush and recoil out of her grip with a stinging and pink cheek.

The seamstress laughs, covering her mouth with the hand she’d just attacked me with and winks. She looks at Bret with a soft laugh. “See what I mean?” Lowering her hand, she extends it to Bret, palm upwards. “I’ll take five silvers and we’ll call it even.”

Bret’s eyes widen in shock. “What?! And you’re saying that you’re doing me a favor?! For that price I could buy a horse of my own!”

Ela whinnies softly and backs away from Bret, gesturing as though to ward off evil.

“Ahm… I’m sorry, Ela.” Bret laughs, scratching his head. “What I meant to say is that I don’t have as much to put into this as she seems to think.” He reaches into his belt pouch and produces a single silver. “Hm…” His eye shoots to my waistline and I reflexively cover it with my hands. “You put tights on her after I said that I wouldn’t pay if you dressed her like a tomboy. For that, I think what you’ve made for her is fetching enough I suppose, but it doesn’t pass muster, I’m afraid.”

The seamstress blinks and her laugh becomes more throaty. “Are you jesting, boy?” She lowers her hand and smirks. “Come now. I haven’t fallen short in fulfilling your request.” Walking to me, she tugs at the lower part of my shirt that clings to my hips. “This can’t be taken for anything less than a lovely form-fitting dress, don’t you agree? Behold the lovely billowing sleeves I lovingly crafted.” She grasps a sleeve and smirks. “The garter belt straps attached to her stockings below shout of courtly elegance. I’ve kept my word, while not putting her into any ‘lowly’ boyish clothing. Therefore…” She lowers her hand towards Bret again. “That’ll be four fat silvers and nothing less.”

Bret winces. “Uh… that’s true enough, but she’s still wearing leggings. If you adjusted her ‘skirt’ to actually be a real one, I’d be tempted to give you three silvers. We need to also discuss those boyish boots you’ve put on her.”

I blink, looking back and forth between these strange two, rubbing my sore cheek. Are they haggling over the price of my clothes? It almost feels like they’re trying to auction me instead.

Looking at Ela, she shrugs at me, equally clueless.

“How daring of you, boy.” The seamstress smiles confidently. “ Did you really think these half boots are ‘boyish’? Are they not laced with lovely little roses? Oh, certainly… I so very much wanted to put her into high heels— but Ela here observed that Hana would have difficulties wearing them during your sword training of an evening. Therefore, in fact, I’ve done you a favor. It’s a shame that you’re so ignorant to have overlooked such an important detail. You shame warriors world-wide.” She presses her hand to her face in disgust, but peers at Bret between her fingers. “Four silvers and seventy coppers for my fine work.”

Bret gapes, realizing that the seamstress is right on this point. He actually looks somewhat embarrassed.

Meanwhile, Ela and I look at each other incredulously.

The seamstress is the one that originally forgot about what an adventurer should wear, giving me high heels to wear. Now she’s pinning it all on Bret!

Ela nods, eyeing the seamstress, who flushes slightly, but recovering from this momentary setback, she adds, “I’ll give you a pair of high-heels free of charge, boy, sized especially for your feet to apologize since you seem enamored of them. If you promise to wear them when you use a sword while working at the northern gate, for a week, I’ll be happy to make some new shoes for Hana that meet your… preposterous expectations.”

Bret starts sweating, more than when he first caught sight of me in these clothes. “Fine! You win. Three silvers and fifty copper pieces!”

The seamstress frowns, shaking her head. “I’m afraid that my offer stands. My work speaks for itself, boy. Four silvers and sixty coppers.”

Wait… wasn’t it seventy coppers she last asked for?

Bret blinks and his nervous expression fades into consternation. “Who do you think you are? You’ll put me in debt over the matter of getting clothes for a girl I just met.” Bret huffs, turning his back on his opponent with arms crossed. “My last offer is three silvers and seventy five coppers. That’s far more than your work is worth.” He stands stiffly, unmoving.

“Fair enough,” the seamstress muses. “But I have one last argument that I’m certain will sway you.”

Bret turns back, wearing a victorious but stubborn smile.

The seamstress chuckles. “I’m certain that what I have in mind, a thing that you haven’t noticed will change your mind. Such a poor boy.” With a wink, the seamstress extends her hands out, palms up, her steps graceful, her eyes latched onto mine with a sultry expression. My face fills with color. “Shall we dance, my dear?” She murmurs with a courtly bow like a lady at a formal ball.

Blinking, I reach and hesitantly take her hands, confused. Ela stomps and snorts. “No! Don’t do that… I mean…”

While Ela rushes at us for some reason, the seamstress takes my hands and spins me around Ela’s rushing form to dash past, making no contact as the seamstress leads me in intricate steps around the floor of her parlor. She pulls and weaves me around in twirling motions that make me dizzy. Bret turns his back on us, looking confused, but peeks over his shoulder and frowning. His aura reeks of wondering what the seamstress is up to. Something that I haven’t quite figured out myself, although I start smiling.

Ela watches us, dumbfounded, and looks down at her feet as though she’s seized by a feeling of inadequacy. Her lip trembles as she pouts.

Leading my footsteps, I find that despite how strange this situation is, I’m starting to have fun. The smoky looks that the seamstress shoots at me now and again make me tingle from head to toe as she pulls me closer and spins me out, her body rubbing against mine in suggestive ways when she pulls me against her in a highly stimulating way. 

How is this supposed to make some kind of a point to Bret when she’s only looking at me like she wants to—? I don’t get it.

Dancing us around the floor of her parlor and spinning us to the front of Bret, the seamstress concludes the dance, pulling me into a low bow. She looks me in the eye with a victorious wink. Did she think that winning my heart would make Bret pay her a bit more? My heart thumps.

Bret gapes at us, looking insulted, annoyed that the seamstress worked around the barrier that he was maintaining and looking straight ahead he turns red and clutches at his face. Averting his eyes, he gasps. “F-fine… four silvers.” Reaching into his belt pouch, he forks out three more silver coins and throws the four onto the floor before dashing out from the room.

Wh-what just happened?

Ela stares at me, blushing along with me and giggles softly as she looks at where Bret fled, seeming embarrassed. If not for herself, is she actually embarrassed for me? Huh?

Rising, the seamstress walks around me to swat my behind. After a moment blushing, I realize that my rear was pointed directly at Bret without my knowledge. With the way these leggings cling to every curvature of my lower body, I can only imagine what he saw. My face turns a deeper shade of red as I straighten up stiffly, looking at the seamstress now warily while she bends and picks up the coins, one by one with a satisfied expression. 

“D-damn it… you used my body to manipulate him?”

“Correct.” The seamstress smiles. “It was the last card that I had to play. Well, I suppose I could have used my own body in such a ploy, but I’m above such things whilst bartering.” Tucking the coins into a pouch, the seamstress adds, “It was a pleasure doing business with you all. If you need further services, you know how to find me. I’m also happy to talk about the old times with you any time, dear Ela.”

Looking both pissed off and oddly aroused, Bret leads Ela and myself southward into a plaza in the center of Haldor’s Stand, a place that hums and buzzes with activity. A few wagons roll past noisilly, drawn by horses amidst people walking, going about their businesses. Ela eyes the wagons and their horses with mute sympathy. 

The wagons, laden with large burlap sacks and crates with more driving through and around the plaza.

“At least some of these hu—hmm… people have the sense to carry their burdens themselves,” Ela murmurs.

A few men going through wear large packs on their backs, hauling wood on their backs. What they do looks like harder work than what I do at the FamilyMort.

Mothers escort their children to and from the northern end, where most of the vendors set up shop, lovers going arm in arm with their loved ones, with other assorted villagers coming and going from the buildings, particularly the big one with a bell tower.

A few of these villagers are dressed in mysterious robes, suggesting that they might be licensed adventurers or aspire to be one. One man, in particular, catches my eye, wearing a deep cowl and wearing a cape over his shoulders, looking like he might be some kind of a practitioner of magic arts. 

Leading me to the center of the plaza, Bret points at the great statue in the center, something that I never knew about until laying eyes on it. The granite figure stands, holding his sword aloft, a large sword and a similarly big shield with a symbol engraved onto it, a flower laid on top of a sun with sharp beams rising off it. He wears full armor except for his head, looking strong enough to slay dragons.

“I used to come here and play beneath Haldor’s feet as a child,” Bret says with a frown.

“This is the man that Haldor’s Stand was named for?” I ask.

“Yes. A long time ago, there was a war that the people of Alver don’t much remember the details of, except for the fuzzy outlines. Now, this is just a story passed down here in the town named for him, and being a simple tale. Like as not, probably fiction, given how long ago this was supposed to have happened. Do you want to know?”

I smile at Bret, wanting to know more. “I do. Please go on.”

With a shrug, Bret begins, “Ages ago, the goblins banded together, forming a massive army of the likes that no one had seen since the darkest ages, for the sole purpose of destroying Alver. They swept eastward and south, laying siege to Alverston, the capital. Having summoned a hero and anointed him, Haldor, the likeness of the man you see here.” He points up at the regal statue of Haldor.

“He was the champion of Alver. No matter how high he rose, he wasn’t able to stem the tides of all those goblins in time. They burned the capital city and the faith that summoned Haldor from the ether to save us was spurned by goddess Alvera. All mourned the passing of the most beautiful city in the world. The goblins moved on and laid waste to the other old cities laying to the south. Things seemed over and done, but before returning to their lands, they set sight on the last of the great old cities of Alver, Haldor’s Stand. Back then it was called Jennings like the lake by this town. Our forefathers stood here and fought many nights and days. Things were looking bad for this town until Haldor arrived from his journey to the east and led the people in a counter attack. He’d left the capital a weak, but determined man, but when he returned, he had gained power.”

“He returned in time to save just one city?”

“Heh. Keep in mind that I don’t believe any of this really happened.” Bret shrugs. “I’m just dutifully reciting what my father told me a long time ago when I was a wee child. I used to believe what he said about Haldor and idolized him, but thinking realistically, one man can’t win a war. The idea that summoning a single person from nowhere to solve all your problems is plain stupid.” Shaking his head, Bret looks me in the eye and says, “It’s up to you and me to protect what we have here. It’s our duty. If you truly want to be an adventurer, at least look at this statue and keep the tale in mind as a lesson. Heroes don’t exist. They’re worshiped and loved, but in the end no one will ever appear to save the day. Saving a single town isn’t worthy of recognition.”

We’re silent for a long moment while we consider what Bret said. Finally Ela speaks, asking a question, “...But didn’t he manage to save this one city at least, giving Alver a chance to recover?” Ela asks, peering up at the statue with a curious expression. “How did he do it, though?”

Bret barks a loud laugh. “That’s the part I don’t believe. I can believe that they might have called someone who failed to do what everyone thought he could. I don’t believe that he actually saved Haldor’s Stand from a goblin army— one that slaughtered and burned the rest of Alver aside from refugees.”

“Ah… Grousin’ about our proud heritage as usual, Bret.” A familiar man’s voice says, laughing.

Looking over my shoulder, I meet the eyes of the strange elderly man with a scraggly beard. The same that I met the other night, when he stopped to tell us about Ela’s flight.

“And you’re still poking your nose into other people’s business as usual, Jak,” Bret shoots back.

Jak, shrugging off Bret’s words asks, “What brings you all to the plaza today, younguns? To rant at your young engaged about the folly of having faith in legends of heroes?”

“We’re not that, Jak!” Bret barks. 

Ela stamps her foot. “She doesn’t like Bret like that, old man!”

We all turn our eyes on for her vehement outburst, making her blush and fidget under our gazes.

“Ah… I see.” Jak chuckles. “It’s like that, is it?” He rubs at his beard and looks up at Haldor’s statue. “Now, Bret wouldn’t tell you this himself, but they say that Haldor’s swordsmanship rose to such a level before the final battle that no one could stand toe to toe with him on the battlefront. With the magicks that he wielded and the finesse he gained from the eastern-style of swordsmanship handed down from past heroes kept alive elsewhere, he turned the tides, singlehanded.” Jak spreads his arms with a beaming expression. “However strong he grew, these proud walls were breached and the gates were broken down, but he made his stand here and tri—”

“Was he really alone?” Ela asks thoughtfully, interrupting.

Jak, frowning at Ela, answers, “... Well, he arrived with the ragged remnants of Alver’s army at his back,” Jak absentminded replies, not seeming annoyed. “But considering how we lost the rest of Alver to the goblins’ invasion without Haldor, I’d not much count them in the end. The thing about the man we’re talkin’ about here is that at first, he always tried to solve things on his own, not that there were many who could stand at his level in the end. In those days he learned how to rely on others.”

“Enough of this nonsense.” Bret scowls. “One man can’t stand against an army.”

“If it’s nothing but nonsense, why was this man’s statue erected here, larger than life? A mite too big to ignore, I’d wager.” Jak laughs, amused. Haldor’s statue stands somewhat above the nearby two-floor buildings, with his sword reaching even higher into the sky above his head. Looking up at the statue, an eagle is perched on the pointy-end of the sword, peering back down at us at this moment.

“Bah. I don’t know.” Bret grouses. “But they should just tear the thing down and forget him like Alvera. No fantasy figure like him will appear to save us from what’s most likely coming. The hope that the statue gives you is nothing but childish whimsy.”

“Mebbie.” Jak tucks his thumbs into his belt with a grin. “Mebbie so, but not everyone thinks like you do.”

Bret ignores Jak’s smirk, looking at me, he exaggeratedly rolls his eyes. 

Scowling at Jak, Bret pulls on my sleeve with a contemptuous twist of his lips for Jak, saying to me, “Back to business, huh? It’s time to see whether we can actually get you a job, Hana.”

Jak watches us go with his thumbs tucked into his belt as Bret tugs me over to a nearby building that fronts the plaza with a price board leaning against the building by the door in a language that I can’t read. The front door has glass set into it, making it look high-class. The roof above the foyer has a trapezoid shape, looking like it’s been built onto what might once have been a normal house at one point. 

There’s a fenced area to the left of the door and the scent of food drifts from the yard. People sit at tables inside beneath large shady parasols. 

I stand nervously at the door for a moment as Bret pushes inside. Ela looks at me and smiles. “You look as nervous as I feel.”

“I’m eager to get to work, but I can’t help feeling that Bret’s idea will fall flat.”

Taking a deep breath, I follow Bret into the somewhat cooler interior. Potted plants with large and wide leaves stand to either side inside and the foyer area is tiled. The front counter has a glass front and shelves built in to display cakes, pie and bread. As I pass through the door, a bell rings above the door and looking up, the bell I heard is hanging there where the door can bump into it. 

Bret stands in front of the counter, waiting. I hold the door open for Ela as she slips inside. The door closes with a crisp click and Ela looks around the place curiously. Her face is painted with her anxiety.

After a moment, from a doorway to the side, a waitress with an apron tied over a black dress with a short skirt enters. She has pink hair tied into twintails on either side of her head and wears a bit of a bonnet in her hair.

What she wears makes her look almost like a classic maid dress worn in maid cafes back at home.

This has to be a dream if this place has french maid costumes. Is this an example of convergent concepts or my brain throwing me another curve?

I blush, staring at the girl. Filled with sudden dread of having to wear something frilly like this. The skirt bares her upper thighs and she wears a black stocking with a lacy band just above knee-level. She wears uncomfortable-looking high-heels while working. Crap!

“Welcome, masters!” The girl greets us with a profusion of enthusiasm, giving us a cute wave, just like Kairi. Standard fare for a maid café. Oh no!!!

Giving Bret a hard look, unable to hide my horror, I turn and leave in a rush.

Taking a deep breath outside, I shake my head to clear the cobwebs. This has to be a dream. This can’t be real. But then again, if this is all made up by my mind, why would I ever dream of becoming like Kairi? Shit! Why do I have to do this? No! I don’t!

Stamping my feet, I stomp over to the statue, enjoying the breeze whipping through the town, playing through my long, blonde hair while staring up at his face. I bet you didn’t have to do anything like this to become a hero.

Rushing up behind me, Ela throws her arms around me and squeezes tightly, pressing her breasts against my back. “Hana, let’s just go. If it’s so hard to live in this town, we should just leave. It’d be far easier. Now that you have some warm clothes, we can—”

“No, Ela.” My lips twisting, I shake my head. “I can’t run away from this.” I sigh.

“Good to hear that. Although, you pretty much already did.” Bret chuckles as he catches up. “You so upset about having to put on one of those costumes and pay a little lip service to the people that come in?”

“If it’s so easy, why don’t you show me how it’s done?” I challenge Bret, employing the seamstress’ ploy.

“Ahahaha…” Scratching his head, Bret says, “We both know which of us would look better in one of those dresses. Anyway, we don’t know that you’ll be made to wear one, do we? By the way, Saria was a mite offended at how you ran off like that. She thought there was somethin’ wrong with her, the way you turned that look of loathing on her the moment she came in.”

“Ugh… did I really look at her like that?” I ask, bothered. Squirming out from Ela’s embrace, I look her in the eye. “Did I?”

Ela nods. “It seemed like that to me too… but I know you don’t hate girls, so it wasn’t that. I picked up enough to guess that because you don’t like wearing dresses, seeing that girl’s clothes, you got nervous like I did last night and ran If you don’t want to, you really don’t—”

Shaking my head with a sinking heart, I sigh. “I’ve seen enough of the alternatives to know that I’d struggle to haul wood around on my back like those men.”

“You could build up the strength in time,” Bret says with a shrug. “But that would take a mite too long. Those that need to have things hauled around need your muscles today, not tomorrow. They don’t pay you to build yourself up. It’s up to you what to do, but especially considerin’ today’s expenses, we won’t be heading to the market like I thought we might. We can still balance things, but if you can’t get a job, you ought to consider heading—”

Waving a hand to shut Bret up, I say with conviction, “I’ve been nothing but a burden to you so far, while you’ve been more than kind to us. No matter how undignified the jobs I have to do, I’ll face them like your Haldor.” I clench a fist and look at Bret with a fierce eye. “And I’ll be the damn best café maid ever to pay you back, and earn enough to pay for my license and more.”

Ela smiles warmly, but sighs. “I’ll work with you. If you can face your fears, maybe it’s time I did the same.”

Surprised and pleased, Bret exclaims, “...Atta girls!” 

Bret grins broadly at us and puts a hand on each of our shoulders. “And while you’re working here, I’ll resume my own job to keep up earning. Now that things are settled, if you’re employed, Ser Mordet won’t have any complaints about my returning to duty.”