Interlude 3 – Their thoughts in the middle of the day

-o-

Aer entered the Silver Moon Inn and waved. "Oh, Micah! Here's today's part of the take. I'd like to talk some things over with Sir Playa – is he around?"

The innkeeper shook her head. "Mister Zah Playa and the girls aren't here today."

The café owner put some copper coins into the pot and sat down on a bar stool. "Another adventure? How… exciting. Sure is nice being an adventurer, huh? All we can do is stay behind and mind the store."

She leaned on her elbow and grinned. "Your father was an adventurer too, wasn't he? Blue-rank even. With your fire affinity, why didn't you ever try being one too?"

Micah snorted, and her red hair tied up in a ponytail bobbed up and down. "Oh yah, sure. Let me just leave behind my comfy bed to go out there and risk my life fighting monsters for coppers and the pleasure of shitting in the woods."

"Heeeh. So crude. You almost sound like one already, no wonder only adventurers come to this inn. You could really do better if you focus on one type of clientele, you know?"

"Like with you and young ladies with a sweet tooth? I'd rather have some meat."

Aer's grin grew more catlike. "Hur hur hur-" she chuckled.

"I really wonder why anyone thinks you're a nice and quiet and gentle girl… you pretentious snot."

"Ehh. It's just your basic service face, you know? Enough about that. When are Sir Playa and the girls coming back?"

"Not for a while. They're off to the capital for a delivery job."

"How lucky!" Then her eyes narrowed. "And even luckier for you, isn't it?" Aer pointed at the ice cream fund pot, and said "Don't even think of filching from that, I keep my records!"

Then she leaned back and huffed "But I noticed it's like he didn't even care to collect. A pitiful little amount like that probably they don't even give a fig about… uhh! I'm so envious of those people! It's unfair! To be so wealthy and still lead an exciting life! Being able to get rich quickly instead of doing the same thing day in day out!"

"Isn't Playa just conning you with you paying out every day for doing nothing?"

"If he didn't give me that, my business wouldn't have doubled. I think it's fair," Aer replied. She grinned wickedly again. "I'd love to work with him on other things…"

"Down girl. Down, you salty girl."

"Heeh. Sure I would go down."

"I won't have this here filth in this here inn. Get out."

"Mmm? Come on, what do you think adventurers get up to when they need to… relieve tension? After that rush of battle- ! Ah! Under the moonlight- !"

Micah frowned. "You've been reading too many steamy novels. Adventurers aren't like that at all!" She took a rag and resumed cleaning mugs. "And even so, so what? What do you think you can do against your competition? People who fight together get to know more about each other."

"You underestimate me, my old friend. I've got these!" Aer smooshed the side of her breasts together. "Sure there's loads of… stories… about how daring female adventurers are, but eventually you've got to have some stability in your life. Can a female adventurer be expected to just settle down and listen to her husband? And I can be exciting too! In the right places… in the right times… huh huh huh."

Micah groaned again. "Why can't we ever have a talk that doesn't boil down to men and your secret perversions?"

"Why shouldn't we? We are young women at our most desirable! Now is the time to really think about our best match for marriage! You too – you're attractive enough, I suppose, and you've got a family business too. You should have been angling potential suitors to your father already."

"Eh. Dad's a bit… unreliable about that. Heck, as an adventurer himself, an adventurer is the last person he'd like me to marry. I'll choose who and when to marry, thank you very much. I don't need to act all cutesy and all."

"If you're waiting for someone brave enough and wise enough to get through that prickly exterior, you're taking a big risk. You're going to be disappointed. You see, men? They're kinda dumb. They never really look for hidden depths…" and then she cupped her breasts again, "ALL THEY SEE ARE THEEESE!"

Micah chopped her friend in the forehead with the edge of her palm.

-x-

Interlude 4 – His thoughts in the middle of the day

-x-

Zanac Zenfield flipped through the designs he'd drawn and compared it to the few designs that Zah Playa had provided. He could spot the differences in themes already.

His designs were more evolved versions of what were already popular. He had pared down ostentation for a more refined, understated elegance. Some of that was also apparent in what Playa had provided. A sense of being mass-produced, a sense of equality and social mobility. Another hint, and another thrill of pleasure that he had found someone that really gets it, someone that could think on his wavelength.

Practicality was its own finery too!

"Tea, sir?"

Zanac looked up to see Nora approach with a tea set. "Oh. Thank you. Set it down there, please – I'm busy."

Nora nodded and put down the tray. Zanac looked away from his sketches and enjoyed watching her leave. Most people thought he probably had unconventional preferences in partners, but really he enjoyed the female form just fine. He loved the way cloth draped over the female form, and he loved helping to emphasize their own natural beauty.

Once more he was struck by the genius of it. Her tight pants really drew the eyes to those tight buns, and he wasn't just referred to her hairstyle. Most thought about short skirts when trying to drool over naked girl legs, but fully covered legs had their own reward for the viewer. Nora didn't realize how her clothes were cut highlighted the glorious curve of her spine.

Zanac picked up a charcoal stick and began sketching again. His own personal Null Magic was [Garment]. It was a similar ability to [Drawing] and [Modeling] about transforming exactly what he was visualizing into reality, but much more restrictive. It only allowed him to design garments, not anything that had secondary uses as armor or other protective clothing.

There was another hidden part to this ability. Every garment to him carried a message. The workman's simple clothes, a baker's apron, a noble's frills that stated how he was so privileged that he didn't need to care about getting his clothes dirty, how people stood inside their clothes and the way they moved while wearing it – Zanac understood it all. Just as clothes spoke to him of people's inner desires, so could he make a conversation with others and try to change their feelings through their own clothing.

He had actually tried to prove this theory before. He had provided some laborer with better clothing, and for all that he was being taunted by his peers for trying to look uppity, he was also treated better by others who didn't know him before. He was instructed to wear sensible work clothes, but outside of his work hours he must always wear the good clothes that Zanac provided.

It was just envy that motivated his friends to try and pull him down back to their level, an envy that blew into resentment. The worker's boss began to treat the better-dressed laborer as the leader of the crew, and when the crew began to obviously shirk he put the well-dressed laborer in charge of another crew that didn't know him before. This one turned out to be a much more productive team.

Even when his former friends beat him up, the worker didn't care anymore. He was on the road to winning at life, he had found confidence instead of spending his pay on drinks and whores, and then his new crew banded together to beat up the old crew in return.

Zanac had actually been afraid he would get beaten up too for his role in that, but he was thanked instead. He was the one that showed them they could be more than just some dumb muscle.

Confidence. Just… confidence. He could change a man's life simply by allowing him to look at himself in another way.

"Walk like them until they walked like you – what an interesting turn of phrase!" Zanac remembered another of Sir Playa's casual sayings.

Zanac did not care about Playa's apparent age. He knew there were people who looked young even at an older age, and in fact he was one of those people. With his wide baby face, if only he took a good night's sleep and shaved his mustache, he would shave a decade or two from his life.

Those words just really resonated with him.

Clothes were tools to sway opinion. In many ways they were women's only weapon against society.

In many ways, Zanac was weaponmaker, in a battle of culture and social dynamics that no one else knew was being waged. He told Playa that Belfast was people – but he never said it was equal or fair.

He began to draw Sir Playa's outfit in a variety of poses – walking, crouching, jumping, punching. It was so easy. This outfit was not armor, other than the thick gloves and the helmet on his head. It was impractical, with its flapping cape and cloth that would pull tight against muscles.

It was a very eye-catching outfit, the garb of a showman, an inspiring leader.

And yet…

He tapped his fingers on the table. There was something about this outfit that just positively reeked to him of BETRAYAL. It was the garb of someone lying to himself.

And it was odd, because the way Sir Playa wore his clothes was also that of someone so content, so honest with his own desires and his own life. He moved with genuine joy and self-assurance with every step.

Zanac thought of the girls accompanying him, and he liked their outfits too. Sober purple and white, and while the latter may be impractical for fighting (what with blood spatters and dirt and all), clean white did help give an impression of purity and professionalism. Perhaps that was why Sir Playa also wore a white helmet and white gloves and boots.

These two conflicting thoughts whirled in his mind until Zanac came to a realization.

This was the outfit of someone who betrays and fails to live up to expectations. It was a symbol, it was NOT Sir Playa's own outfit, he wanted it in order to imitate someone else. Someone who still remained inspiring despite all his obvious flaws.

Perhaps he wanted to reclaim this symbol, and make it actually deliver what it promised.

Zanac nodded approvingly. He too would do this, would make this garment to the fullest extent of his own abilities, because this suit promised him a story for the ages. He wondered just how far Sir Playa would bring his legend... or would he just crash and burn like so many other prodigies ramming against uncaring reality and the fickleness of crowds?

-x-