Chaldea operating at peak efficiency was nothing short of a miracle.

With the sheer destruction wrought upon the facility in its first mission, humanity should have been doomed. At its height, Chaldea had more than three hundred staff in various positions both menial and significant. Lev's traitorous actions, and well planned sabotage, crippled almost everything necessary for operational integrity, including as much staff as possible. Barely a hundred remaining, most of the employees had become severely demoralized in addition to the news that humanity had ceased to exist outside the small mountain range. In those dark, early days, some even considered it a curse to have been left alive.

The content employees that can be seen around the halls told a vastly different story now.

To the relief of the suddenly overburdened workforce, there had been two savings graces. Due to the initial suspicion from the mages, nearly ninety percent of the robotics workforce was held in reserve. The second was Da Vinci's distrust for Lev, which caused her to do an insurance check of the Fate Summon System. Before she could inform the director of the explosives she managed to disarm, the rest of the bombs had been triggered. Between the initial save of the Fate System, and the untouched Robotics Reserve, Chaldea had received its first coincidental miracle of sorts.

Nearly a hundred and fifty robots had been reprogrammed to assist with the sudden loss of personnel. It took two weeks for the overworked Science and Engineering Divisions to get it done properly. While they handled getting the workforce back on its feet, the first servants to arrive had been busy clearing debris and restoring the facility to its former prime. With Da Vinci's assistance, Chaldea had returned to its former glory within three weeks, and just in time to handle the next major singularity.

While getting the facility on its feet again was rather straightforward, adjusting the workforce to its new circumstances was not.

Many servants had unique presences that varied greatly. Employees were transferred to fill different positions based on other specialties. Many had to perform their duties with the assistance of robots. Servants were often seen as celebrities and mysteries. The list of roadblocks was long, but eventually the population grew used to its conditions.

Living among heroic spirits and working jobs not previously mentioned in their job description became the norm. With all of the menial chores and duties handled, employees were often tasked with quality of life and advancement positions. Some remained furthering research and development, while others were shifted to fabricating furniture. Whatever their task, the increase in free time for most had been a welcome change that helped facilitate their adaptation.

Yet still, there were some who not only grew used to it, but became far closer than most.

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Fragment 5: A Healing Stitch

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On the third basement level in the east wing sat a large and constantly busy room. It was one of the many sections where windows allowed a quick glance inside for those walking in the adjacent hallway. Along with a neighboring entrance labeled Laundry Room, it wasn't hard to figure out what this place was for when given a glance.

Inside resembled a warehouse, with shelves stacked high with raw materials in organizers or crates. Just past its double-door entrance was a reception desk, behind which were quickly constructed cubicles where employees and robots worked with material. The shelves closest to the double doors revealed the actual contents and purpose of the warehouse without concern, refined cloth stacked to fill every square inch ready to be used.

The Clothing Department wasn't even an official sub-division to begin with, but a handful of employees and their support robots that operated a supply closet. Like the unofficial Furniture Department, they wound up having to cater to servants' needs when most of them only knew how to do patch repairs. Very few of the former Logistics Division employees were actual tailors; It was no surprise the rest had to learn quickly from the experienced needle workers and designers present.

The sudden flood of requests by interested servants needed to be stemmed.

After a steady work flow was established and skills were fine-tuned, the little supply closet was working as an effective clothing store for everyone. Thankfully their robotic assistants were quick with retrieving material and precisely creating the rough outlines, so the craftsmen only had to assemble and detail. Coupled with incoming material and wardrobes from supply sorties, the Clothing Department was more than stocked to handle newfound requests.

In an office backroom near the cubicles, the fair skinned supervisor released a sigh. She looked over the coat a tailor had newly completed. "Three hours late… Unbelievable."

She brushed a large bang behind her ear, the only cluster of unusual green hair not tied back with the rest of her ponytail. Her jade eyes scanned the new piece of clothing with scrutiny, slender arms crossed across her Chaldea uniform. A yellow Logistics Division tie hung perfectly around her neck, the collar crisp and the definition of regulation. Shifting weight to the opposite leg, she turned the sweater over, smoothed it on the table with her hand, and glared at the white outerwear as if it offended her.

Grabbing the item by the hanger, she lifted it and presented it to the robot that hovered almost silently behind her. It beeped. "Miss Stolarz?"

"Place this on the delivery rack and tell Evans he did a decent job, though he was late and that is completely unacceptable," the woman explained sternly. She was glad she had an extra cup of coffee that morning. "I doubt Miss Arturia will be mad at the slight delay, but I don't want it turning into a habit… This is the second delayed item he's had for a customer this week."

"Yes, Miss Stolarz, right away!" The bot beeped as it took the hanger and made its way towards the front. That article had missed today's delivery.

Looking at her clock, she felt the sides of her mouth upturn slightly at the time, but it was only noticeable to her. Grabbing a small bag from her nearby desk, she began her stroll to the front desk before yelling, "Lunch break everyone, be back by 1300 sharp. We got a lot of orders in this morning, and I want them done yesterday."

Several groans formed the collective response.

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"Oh shoot, it's her." "Squeeze over a bit." "Don't make eye contact."

Naomi Stolarz walked down the hallway. As they gave her the extra space, she scoffed.

Since she was the top tailor in Chaldea, even before the Fuyuki incident, she was chosen by the unofficial director to head the Clothing Department after a few servants, with very extravagant desires, demanded better quality of life. After the weeks of her training sessions and work schedule, rumors began circulating about how difficult it was to work under her, let alone pass her quality check. Some even compared it to boot camp, though that was truthfully a huge exaggeration.

'What is so wrong about perfection?' She thought in frustration as she walked down the hallway alone. Her thoughts were usually her only companion.

Sure, true perfection was impossible... but by striving to reach it the results became more than magnificent. She had never heard a complaint brought back to her department regarding received items after the first week of work, proving her thoughts correct. It still didn't stop the choice comments floating around about her; 'The Stitch Witch' was a fairly popular nickname, though whether that was because of her particular brand of magecraft or her attitude she could never discern.

Naomi came from a third-rate magus family often insulted by more prestigious households due to their non-existent Magic Crest and penchant for using technology; They were considered spell casters passing down family gimmicks at best. She had to laugh at the absurdity of that statement, as she recalled fondly how her father still has issues using search engines properly and falling for fake virus detection pop ups. If her part time job as a computer salesman instantly made them heretics, then the Mages Association wasn't something she was ever going to take seriously.

Not that she would, based on the number of arrogant mages still present in Chaldea.

It was just a side job, with her mother teaching her alteration knowledge and tailoring alongside various, less important home schooled lessons. It was during those lectures that striving for perfection and complete self-discipline became key habits; These were the first two of four lessons her mother taught that she would never forget. While learning self-control, she discovered latent telekinetic powers by accident after making a nearby spoon rattle as she calmed her anger. Her mother, hoping dearly it was their family's hidden magic potential, was more than ecstatic they would finally find prestige.

Her life's story wasn't as extravagant as her mother thought it would be.

The twenty-nine-year-old had exactly the same telekinetic powers as she did ten years ago when it stagnated… that is to say she has issues lifting anything heavier than a bottle of water. It was completely embarrassing to even admit she had this power and that was the heaviest object she could lift with it, granted she could move it around as long she wanted, but only if it remained within a meter of her. Due to a eureka moment, she learned that she could apply this ability to tailoring, manipulating several needles at once to finish work quicker.

Most mages would laugh at the peak of her magic prowess, but her mother and father smiled in pride. Her mother was disappointed at the stagnation, but she was the first to also point out Naomi's constant struggles to improve revealed the hard worker within. She was encouraged to ignore what others might think and to keep working hard to make something 'uniquely yours.' The third lesson from her mother was that everything should be given a chance, and that your perception of someone or something shouldn't be founded on what others say.

"Hey Stickler!" someone called out from behind her.

She turned around and glared upon realizing the offender had turned down another hallway with a group of other employees, chuckling still clearly audible. She gripped the bag in her one hand tighter, scoffed, and continued to her destination.

The fourth lesson from her mother: People can also be assholes.

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If someone were to tell her where she'd wind up when she began working for the prestigious Animusphere family as a tailor, she could have been the first mage to die laughing. But it happened, and Marisbilly took her in when he found himself impressed with her quick needlework and tech savvy insight nearly a decade ago; One of their personal servers answering their potential emails for them would be wonderful.

The heir, to which she was assigned, had quite a bit of self-importance about her, but she never held it around the tailor due to the speed of her work, polite manners, and total obedience displayed. Always striving for perfection, she made sure all her work was perfect for the young mage who valued the same. She hoped her efforts would bring her own family pride by helping out such a prestigious name.

Thanks to her labors, Olga Marie was always kind to her and even considered the older tailor a close friend.

Before long, the heir was even secretly taking knitting lessons from the personal tailor. It was few and far between at first, but the heir could no longer hide her curiosity and eagerness behind a mask of mild interest. It helped Naomi's self-esteem grow, but it never became arrogant. She only continued to help the heir learn her craft with a hopeful smile.

Olga found it unusual that someone would just teach their craft so willingly since she constantly dealt with the secretive nature of mages. To Naomi it was just a small hobby she wanted to share with others. She promised jokingly that she'd keep her telekinetic mage tailoring a secret from her instead; That was the first time she got Olga to laugh. It was also the first time Naomi smiled genuinely herself since her parents passed away peacefully.

Her heart sank at the thought of her late friend, but it's thanks to her that she wound up at Chaldea among company she never thought she'd be near.

"A bit earlier than usual, Miss Stolarz," came a regal, masculine voice.

"Better than once late," she replied simply.

Naomi pulled out the two knitting needles from her bag, and soon after a small sandwich she made at breakfast. She looked to the pair of servants that currently shared a chair and ottoman cluster with her at Salon de Marie. The trio sat on plush chairs, perfectly spaced in a diamond with their personal bags scattered on the floor around them or on the small end tables next to their seats.

A lone woman across to her right gave a small smile to the tailor before returning to her own needles. Long, blue hair flowed loosely behind her, with a single braid accenting the style. She wore a purple strapless dress with golden accents, which made Naomi swell with pride upon having created the very item herself. Her bare arms displayed her smooth, porcelain skin without worry, save for some golden bracelets on each wrist. The older woman hummed a quiet tune to herself as silver eyes immersed themselves in her work.

The second servant wore an almost plain, black robe, albeit a very luxurious looking one, which she also proudly crafted herself. Silver accents along the collar matched the equally shiny belt. A white ascot covered the man's neck and chest that the robe's design would have revealed. Ghostly white hands and long, bleached blonde hair gave him an almost phantom-like appearence as he worked his own needles. His well-trimmed goatee almost blended with his pale complexion.

Pale, green eyes glanced up from their work to catch her gaze before simply returning to the needles in front of him. Most people would have considered it a dismissal coming from an individual whose posture and presence spoke of royalty and proper etiquette. Naomi was not most people. She knew him just enough to understand the action didn't hold hidden contempt; The tailor had dealt with enough forged attitudes to realize when someone was being dismissive in a subtle manner.

He never was with her. She started knitting, and concentrated on her needlework. "Did Elizabeth like her scarf?"

"More than enough she wanted a second from her dear uncle," Vlad noted as he raised the blue fabric. "I hope you don't take offense."

"Take offense of a lighter workload?" She dared to joke. The two chuckled lightly in response.

"Can a scarf add that much extra work to your day?" Medea inquired quietly, though as a tiny joke.

Naomi's smile faltered, drawing a curious glance from the other two. "It does when it's Nero requesting it."

They all nodded in silent understanding. This was her little piece of stability and usually silent reality every lunch.

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"… and Asterios still caters for Euryale to this day, and by request Stheno too."

"So that's why their dresses are strangely long," Naomi mused quietly. They had recently inquired about her workload, which was one of the small, staple talks.

"There's no need to worry about tripping on them if you're always carried by a tall berserker," Medea concluded with a tiny smile. "It would be nice to have a butler."

They soon fell back into comfortable silence. She never dreamed to be knitting in the company of such esteemed individuals, let alone have the honor to be their acquaintance… or so she dared to presume. While the rest of the heroic population considered her a great tailor and valued hard worker, it was the two in front of her that made the extra step and went further than just compliments and greetings.

It all began barely two weeks after the Clothing Department formed, when orders were at an all-time high from servants who wished to have an actual wardrobe to wear around the facility. Naomi kept to herself on her lunch breaks, knitting in the corner of the cafeteria since Salon de Marie was still under construction at the time. She had some rare acquaintances in the facility, yes, but Olga was the only real friend she had. Upon her death, she was actually glad the Clothing Department formed, since it provided a distraction and gave her the chance to let others smile through her art.

That was when he was summoned. The feared Vlad III of Wallachia had arrived in Chaldea in a fearsome display. She heard the story from Gabrielle about how angry he had been for being summoned in his class. Not understanding why it was a problem, she never did bring it up. All she knew was that the man had been rather dangerous and scared nearly all of the employees until he received the memorial essence a few days later. Still, the cloud of fear hung over many employees when dealing with the source of vampire tales.

To her surprise, he had approached her after the completion of the French singularity.

Lunch time was always when she knitted by herself. The table she had in the corner of the cafeteria was quite tiny and secluded, so his approach meant it was for her alone. Since a very rare few ever made small talk with her, she slowly switched to business mode. She mentally prepared herself for what she assumed was an off-hours order from the feared Prince of Wallachia; The tailor was still proud she held a firm and orderly demeanor when taking that order. What happened instead surprised her.

"Miss Stolarz, would you mind if I joined you?" she still recalled him saying.

She agreed, slightly taken back. It only multiplied when he sat down and began knitting along with her. The infamous Vlad the Impaler, Berserker servant of Chaldea, was knitting a scarf with rainbow yarn. She did not question it, nor did they really talk. It was a strangely comfortable silence that replaced the lonesome air, and she quietly appreciated it.

For the next two weeks, they met on occasion in her little corner of the cafeteria and knit privately, conversing in small talk on occasion, but mostly sitting in silence. She found her initial fear of Vlad III was founded on what she knew and didn't. The tailor was aware the prince had a complex opinion of being related to his other legend, where he was a vampire known the world over. Tales of what he did to an invading army echoed throughout history, a gruesome display the world would not forget. What she found instead was a perfectly regal prince who was quiet company.

Thankfully, she never did see what he was like before that memorial essence.

Shortly after the conclusion of the Roman Singularity, Salon de Marie finally opened. The new, luxurious lounge was well worth the extended wait, and Naomi's lunch time breaks had relocated to one of the chair and ottoman clusters near a corner. Vlad would occasionally join her again, but it happened more often. Nearly two weeks after its opening, they were approached by a certain Princess of Colchis wearing exactly the same dress she wore that moment.

"Does Master Gudao require something of us, Medea?"

"No… I just simply decided to see for myself if you were telling the truth about knitting at lunch."

He had chuckled lightly in small amusement at that. "As you can see, I was not lying. I do knit… as strange as the notion seems."

"…Were you maybe interested in joining us?" She recalled asking calmly and curiously.

Naomi still remembered the surprise and hopeful glint on her face that day, something she didn't expect from the Witch of Betrayal. She heard a few stories going around Chaldea about her cunning and vicious precision in battle. There were also the tales of how she acted on first arrival, which contradicted what she saw at that moment. Thanks in part to her revelations with Vlad, Naomi wasn't as surprised by her hidden personality, and found it amusing that she also joined with the intent to knit in peace.

Hidden may not be the best descriptive term, but it was at least partially accurate after all that Medea had gone through in her legend. Along with Vlad, their small talks slowly increased, and she got a glimpse of the real Medea. What she found was simply a bitter princess with severe trust issues, but how could anyone blame her for that? But at the same time, she was also more than happy to reciprocate any sincerity shown, and just another person with a hobby enjoyed in pleasant company.

It was not what she had expected, making acquaintances with two legendary figures with dark pasts. What was even less expected was finding common ground in just simply knitting, an activity that forged a crack in the ice large enough to break through to allow occasional small talks to occur. It let her see these Heroic Spirits in a different light, away from the legends that defined them. While their talks had not been personal in the least, she was talking with heroes past nonetheless.

Sometimes the waking world was more interesting than woven dreams.

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Naomi checked her watch and noticed it read 1249.

In roughly a minute, she needed to head back to the department and immediately return to tailoring some extra pieces. She always wanted to arrive early to set a positive example for her workers to follow, and has not once failed at making her own standard. With a quiet sigh, she began packing up her things. Quickly, she crumpled up the saran wrap that once held her ham and cheese sandwich to throw in the trashcan on the way out. After placing her knitting needles in her bag, she looked up to meet Medea's calm gaze.

"I wish some of my castle servants in my previous life were as stringent as you, Miss Stolarz."

She turned her gaze to Vlad who had beaten Medea to speaking, a small smile gracing her lips. "Thank you, Vlad. I try."

"Trying means you may fail," The prince chuckled lightly. "I have yet to see any possibility of such."

"He's right, you're always so well organized," Medea stated with a smile. "That department of yours is lucky to have a supervisor as responsible as you."

Naomi rolled her eyes, but not at the servant. "I wish some of them said anything of the sort."

"At the very least, you're not their doormat," Vlad complimented evenly.

"A fair point, I guess... I'll see you two tomorrow," she waved, receiving nods in return as she walked towards the door. She swiftly threw her garbage in the trash at the door and prepared to step up her pace as she exited the do-

"Woah, there you are Naomi!"

She stopped herself before she bowled over Gudao. The male in question was fairly tall, though she secretly took some pride in being just as tall as the resident master. Looking down, she saw he had an ornate, silver box in his hands, big enough to pack a lunch, and closed with a golden lock. Her name was written on a nameplate which raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"The robots are finally going through past belongings and found this in the cargo hold. I had some rare free time, so I decided to run it down in case you were still here," Gudao explained and handed her the box, which she gingerly took.

"Hey Master, you got time to oversee the formation we were working on?" A male called from down the hall, causing him to turn to the source.

"Sure thing, Cu, I'll meet you three at the training grounds after I grab my coat," He replied swiftly. "Gotta run, glad I caught up to you!"

The tailor watched the young master run down the windowed corridor before turning her attention to the box. She flipped it over and examined it in vain; As if looking at the bottom would make her remember having a box she'd never seen before. She huffed and started walking, thinking on how original Logistics employees had lost things before irresponsibly. It was a little absurd they would just lose a box with her full name on it though; No one was that bad.

As she picked up her pace, Naomi turned it back over. Curiosity got the better of her and she flipped open the lid, her legs coming to a screeching halt. Her eyes widened as she stood frozen in time, breathing rhythm shattered. Her hand unconsciously moved for the framed item and piece of paper sitting on top of crumpled cloth.

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"And… done!"

"A little slow… but that's okay, Olga. Some things can't be helped. It's not like you do this for a living or anything."

There was some giggling. "Maybe I can someday. I did great huh?"

Naomi smiled softly but shook her head lightly, making the white-haired girl next to her pout. The pair sat on the edge of a very large canopy bed, easily fit for royalty. The dimly lit room around was lavishly decorated and very spacious. On the only nightstand, next to the ornate bed, was a golden lamp of exotic origin that lit the room in a soft glow. Magecraft and history books filled many spaces from the nightstand's cavity to the shelving that flanked the large, curtained windows.

There was a giant maple dresser with a mirror the size of a small car opposite the bed that bore their reflections. Both of the girls had their hair in messy ponytails. Whereas Naomi had a dark blue nightgown, her companion wore a yellow variation. Said companion let out a sigh of frustration before dropping her knitting needles to one side. She glared softly at the offending piece of cloth: a crocheted sweater.

"I don't get it. It looks fine!" the heir clarified. In response, Naomi reached out and gently pulled on one of the apparel's sleeves, making it come apart with little effort.

She did a good job of suppressing her laughter at Olga's dumbfounded expression, her golden eyes reflecting pure disbelief. "Lies! You broke it with magecraft!"

Naomi couldn't hold her laughter in any longer much to her friend's displeasure. Olga only half glared at the green-haired girl; She reluctantly knew she didn't need to activate her few circuits to do something as simple as pull her work apart. Her pride still stung though.

"Ugh, that took seven days!" The heir cried out in exasperation.

"Sorry, sorry," Naomi quickly added. "You were very close this time though."

"Suuure," Olga cried out before throwing herself backwards on her bed and letting out an exaggerated groan. "This is absurdly hard for such a simple task. I should've asked you years ago who you first came here."

"I think you're just over-ambitious. You went straight for a sweater after learning the basics," The tailor stated. She took part of the ruined sleeve and began working it with her own needles, using her telekinesis to pick up her friend's pair to help manipulate faster.

Olga Marie sat up on the bed and watched her work quickly, turning the small piece of the black and white sweater into something else. She squinted her eyes in scrutiny, looking at the jumbled mess of string as she worked. There was no way that would turn into anything remotely inte-

Her eyes widened when the needles stopped working and Naomi manipulated the cloth a bit. Her needles began working again on the spherical cluster of thread as Olga gazed in surprise. Only a minute later she was done, placing all four needles down, then dropping the small bundle of thread in front of the heir.

A piece of the black and white sweater became a small panda head.

Olga did the only thing she could think of at that moment and exclaimed, "Is this a sixth magic!? How did you…!?"

Naomi burst into laughter, quickly followed by her friend a few seconds later after a poor attempt to suppress it. The former held her sides as she rolled off of the bed and onto the floor, the latter falling back once more, having lost complete compo-

Someone knocked on the door.

"It's late, Olga. Please keep it down or I'll have to ask your personal tailor to return to her room."

"Yes, Father," Marie responded. The pair quietly listened as the sound of footsteps faded down the hallway.

"I still don't know how you do it," She said in a frustrated voice, but with a small smile.

"It took years. You just started last month. Don't feel so down, you'll get it, and I'll be here to make sure you do," Naomi smiled genuinely at her friend. "Just don't give up, okay?"

Olga smiled. "Of course I won't! There's no way I'll allow this little activity to defeat me!"

The student picked up the needles again, then the small panda head. There was a moment of silence as she observed the items. A happy smile graced her features, "You've got such a wonderful skill, you know."

"You're too nice to me," Naomi responded evenly. "You know that?"

"No, I'm only nice to competent people!" She replied quickly. "That's why you're my friend."

Naomi raised her eyebrows in surprise then chuckled. She got up from the bed and picked up her pair of needles. "So almost everyone else but your family and maid are incompetent?"

"Yes, ugh, no one ever gets anything right."

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Dear Naomi,

It's been hectic around Chaldea since I had been thrown into leadership. I'm sorry for being crankier than usual these past years, and the terrible tantrums I threw after my father passed away, but I hope it gets easier from here on. When things settle down after the masters are finally ready, I'd like to spend more time getting better at crocheting again if I can find the free time to do so.

You can laugh at my attempt since it's not much compared to what you can do, but I made a small present for your birthday. I tried to make something that was special since we both know I'm terrible with gift giving, as evidenced by your last few birthdays. I'm still very sorry about the dress last year. I'm not the best with ordering online even after you explained it to me. This birthday won't be very special because of all the work that needs to be done, but I hope to make the next one even better for you, I promise.

It's a bit of thanks for putting up with my little god complex in this facility since I know it's not your favorite side of me. I also just want something special for you to remember me by. You are the only one who makes me feel important, and I want you to know you will always be that way for me too. Thanks for making me feel like I'm worth something every day. I really don't know what I'd do without you or Lev.

Your best friend,

Olga Marie Animusphere

P.S. - I still think your smile is better than mine.

"Olga…"

Tears streamed freely down her cheeks as Naomi turned her attention from the now tear-stained, handwritten letter to the picture frame in her right hand. The ornate box lay discarded and open on the ground. A few employees had stopped further down in confusion when it dropped rather loudly. She didn't care if they were judging since her eyes remained glued to the picture.

Both of them were in matching outfits, ones she made for the both of them at the heir's request. They were black coats sporting orange front accents over a white dress with frilled sleeves. The coat's wrists had orange bands embroidered with golden designs, much like the front accent. A red, fanned neck piece with circular emblem hung neatly in front. Olga had her hair completely loose, as well as Naomi, and the two had an arm around each other, smiling happily towards the camera they set on a tripod in her room. In Olga's left hand was the small panda head Naomi made, turned into a small keychain.

"Why did you…" This was taken just a week before the Fuyuki Incident.

The tailor collapsed to her knees and openly wept, not caring who would witness the perfectly organized supervisor in such a state. It's been four months, and she thought she was over it, but the wound had remained in her heart. Through all the busy months that were the masters' initiation, she still found the time to make her a secret birthday gift… A gift which now lay on the floor near the box. Through blurry eyes she looked towards the real gift that spilled from the box, her body racked by even more sobs as she leaned against the wall on her right for support.

To her surprise, she saw someone kneel down in her peripheral to her left. She was about to brush them off, collect her things, and bolt to her workplace, but a gentle hand on her shoulder stopped her. She turned her head and recognized Medea through tear filled eyes. Bringing her sleeve to her eyes, she began drying her tears in a panic.

"Naomi, what's wrong? What happened?" Medea asked with concern practically dripping from her voice. Her eyes now relatively clear, she looked back at the servant to see worry written all over her face.

"I-it's nothing, I just l-lost my comp-posure, t-that's all," She declared as a lone tear race down her cheek. A sob slipped out of her throat followed by another tear down a cheek. "I s-should get going, I'll be late."

"Naomi..."

"I c-can't let them s-see me tardy o-once or-"

"Naomi!"

Medea had gently but firmly placed both of her hands on the tailor's shoulders, looking her squarely in the eyes. Another sob escaped from her throat as she looked down and to the side, ashamed and embarrassed by the current situation.

"If you don't wish to share, it's alright… but I'm here for you," the princess spoke slowly but clearly. Her sympathy and concern surprised her, and she was left speechless as the caster gave a solemn smile that spoke of years of experience. "It's alright to cry... I would know."

There was silence as the pair remained in place, a tiny crowd having formed a respectable distance in the windowed hallway. Naomi collected her thoughts. Since her friend passed away, there was no one she could openly talk to in the organization, even after spending years within its walls. She never realized how much that meant to her, or did for her, to have someone to turn to for support.

Another tear run down her cheek at the realization of just how lonely she made herself without realizing it. Burying herself in her work only made the situation worse. Somehow, another opportunity presented itself from a source she wouldn't have believed months ago. While breathing in deeply to calm herself, but still not trusting her voice, she dared to see how much she cared. With a shaking hand, Naomi presented Medea with the letter.

The princess took the parchment gingerly and began reading it. Once she got to the bottom, she looked towards the tailor with some confusion before her eyes widened slightly. She looked back at the bottom where the signature of the sender was and slowly covered a mouth with one of her hands upon silent confirmation. Gently putting the letter down, she looked towards the tailor. The hand that covered her mouth moved to gently hold one of the supervisor's own in a surprising show of compassion.

"The late director…?" Medea asked hesitantly, receiving a sob and a silent nod as her first response.

"She was n-nicer than anyone ever thought," she choked out before more tears overtook her. Medea closed the gap in an instant to wrap both her arms around the poor girl, rubbing her back gently in soothing circles with one hand. 'Was I really the only one who ever acknowledged her?'

"I'm sorry," The blue-haired woman whispered as she felt tears against the bare skin of her shoulder.

"M-my birthday," she stuttered out. "It was a w-week after F...Fuyuki. S-she never... forgot... I-I miss her."

Medea closed her eyes and gently rocked the woman in her arms. "I'm so sorry…"

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Naomi didn't know how long she had been in the lounge. Medea had brought her back with the help of Vlad who, much to her surprise, watched silently from a few feet behind as Medea comforted her. She had calmed down considerably and could think straight again in the untold minutes they had sat here in silence.

It was hardly uncomfortable, just painful.

The Princess of Colchis had collected her belongings and placed them on the ottoman in front of the tailor. The green haired woman stared blankly at the ornate box that rested on the plush upholstery. It sat together with the letter, picture frame, and personal knitting bag. A tray with a glass of water sat on the table next to her as a silent offering from a passing Marie.

"I apologize. I'm not the best with handling personal grievances." Vlad said quietly as he shifted in his seat slightly. It was unusual for the prince to look even a tad uncomfortable.

"It's alright, Vlad…" Naomi replied softly, still in her trance. "I should have been in more control."

"Hush. No need to be sorry about that, silly mage," Medea replied soothingly. "Are you feeling better?"

Naomi nodded. "Yes, thank you."

Medea gave a small smile in response. There was a comfortable silence as she sat there, thoughts divided between her late friend and the two servants in front of her. She had done nothing but knit with them and partake in occasional small talk, yet they already went the extra mile and helped with her total breakdown. She looked up and stared at the two who gazed at her with concern. It wasn't as clear with Vlad, but there was definitely a hint of it in his usually regal and stoic gaze. That's what she would like to believe at least, but there was only one way to find out for sure.

"Why did you two help me?" She asked in a quiet voice, causing both servants to look at her surprised. It was more obvious on Medea's face than Vlad's, but at least this time there was no doubt of it from the Prince.

"Is this a serious question?" Vlad asked with an even tone. Had she irritated the prince?

"We did it because we're your friends, why else would we?" Medea responded soon after, making the head of the Clothing Department's eyes widen. Friends she said.

"We only knit together and talk at lunch. I didn't know that gave me the priveledge of-"

"Privilege?" Vlad chuckled. "Please, you've earned our friendship many weeks ago. Medea and I agree on this."

Looking to the woman in question, she found a small smile and a nod as her answer. Now she was really confused. What exactly had she done? She could think clearly again, right? They only really knitted together at lunch, having small talk while doing so. Besides pleasantries being exchanged in the hallway, she couldn't figure out what else she did to warrant that kindness they showed without hesitation.

"I see you're trying to figure out what you did," Medea observed, which made Naomi nod in agreement. "It's not just what you did, but also didn't do. You didn't judge us by our legends like so many others."

"I just didn't think it was worth mentioning. You two were nice to me from the beginning, so I just treated you like you treated me and..." Naomi explained when her voice trailed off, which generated a glint in Vlad and Medea's eyes.

"I thought it was obvious. That's why you're our friend," Medea stated plainly. "I've kept to my room most of the time simply to avoid the accusations and glares since my arrival. I don't receive nearly as much anymore, but you gave me a seat and company without judgment when I first approached. Right, Vlad?"

The regal individual nodded in confirmation before looking back to Naomi. "Several employees have called me Dracula, and some still outright avoid me with fear. While my actions in the first week didn't help my case, I'm more than satisfied and pleased it never seemed to influence your opinion. You always treated me as a person, even if it was just simple small talk and pleasantries."

It never occurred to her before what these two might still be handling on their own. She recalled her first meeting with Vlad, of the intimidation she felt at the sight of the approaching prince and the rumors that swirled about him. She felt worse for having the same reservations, but felt a modicum of pride at having held back in favor of treating everyone equally on first glance. She was simply following the dear lessons learned from her mother and she managed to befriend powerful individuals.

"Friends..." she said quietly, though they heard her clear as day as they watched a small smile appear on her face. "I guess I misinterpreted the silent knitting. I didn't think you wanted to talk to me that much."

"We thought you preferred the silence. Medea and I talk a lot after you leave," the prince nodded and looked to Medea. "I apologize if it sent the wrong messages."

"I see… then I'm sorry for presuming," Naomi smiled back. "And… thank you. I can't thank you enough for considering me your friend."

"I'm glad we could be," Medea replied quickly with a small smirk. "But I'm more glad you're feeling better… my fellow stitch witch."

"Ugh... not you too," Naomi groaned with a smile as Medea laughed. She straightened from her slouched position in the chair and reached for her things. "I better get back to work. I'm beyond late at this point and I can't afford to be late."

"And she's back to normal," Vlad stated in amusement, but held up a hand to stop her. "There is no need. We had Roman call in for you. One of your staff are assuming temporary control, so you have the rest of the day off."

A shiver ran up her back. Naomi stared at him in surprise and worry. "…Did he say a name?"

The prince looked to Medea and she simply nodded. "Miss Maemi, I believe it was?"

Naomi let out a sigh in relief, causing Vlad and Medea to look at each other with amused expressions. "As long as it's her… Heavens help me if it was Evans."

"Now then… Naomi," the berserker spoke to her the tailor's attention. He gladly noticed the small smile on her face upon hearing her first name. "Since it appears you've been under the wrong impression because of our comfortable silence, I suggest we remedy this. What would you like to know about your friends?"

Her smile grew a little more.

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Two hours flew by faster than Naomi could have imagined as they talked absolutely nonstop. Though they had been meeting every day for the past month and a half, any talk was always short and brief. Comfortable silence filled most of the fifty minutes she spent with them daily. It would always be a few simple sentences, then several minutes in peace and quiet. She didn't realize how much she missed talking endlessly about everything like she could with Olga, and she couldn't keep the smile off her face. She may have lost her, but she was glad to find Vlad and Medea.

"I appreciate the offer, Medea, but I think I'll stick with my little needle magic," she explained with a little embarrassment. "The last time I tried anything more, my parents had to bring me to the hospital."

"You pushed your circuits too far?"

She chuckled nervously. "No… I… It's actually too embarrassing, but it involved accidental telekinesis and a nearby vase."

"Oh dear…" Medea giggled, though Vlad suppressed his own chuckle.

"It could have been worse… at least I don't have a scar," she reassured herself with a small smile as she stared at the ornate box still sitting on her ottoman. She picked it up and opened it to look at the lone gift inside. Naomi smiled before finally closing the lid and slipping it into her bag alongside the letter and picture frame. She smiled softly.

"Thank you, again… I really mean it. I haven't laughed or smiled like this in too long."

"And we'll be sure to keep it that way, since the same applies for us as well," the prince nodded in confirmation. He looked to Medea as she agreed, then checked her watch and sighed.

"I'm sorry to cut this early, but I have to go. I haven't practiced self-defense in a week and master was adamant about casters learning at least something for protection," the princess lamented as she got up. She smiled towards Naomi. "I liked learning more about each other."

"I hope we all talk this sincerely from now on." Naomi smiled as she waved at the caster. It faltered slightly in uncertainty. "…Though, I won't mind if you two prefer the comfortable silence we shared…"

"I believe being more personable and open will be far more enjoyable for us," Vlad interjected with a reassuring smile. "The small talk was fairly droll after so many weeks. I can understand how you'd get the wrong impression when we only discuss supply sorties, your work, and any… usual, crazy occurrence in Chaldea."

They nodded in agreement, and Naomi smiled. "Sounds wonderful, thank you. Both of you."

Medea was about to wave to Vlad when she stared at the piece of furniture in front of him. His bag was there, but what caught her attention was the lone knitting needle that somehow wound up stuck into the upholstery; Marie wasn't going to be very pleased with that. Naomi also noticed, and stared with her. Vlad followed their gaze to the offending tool, and gently pulled it from the cushion, staring silently at the small but obvious hole it created on extraction. He met their gazes met for a second.

"At least it's not the first time I did that to an ottoman," He mused with a slight smirk. Naomi cringed.

Medea groaned. "While I'd love to be more personal with our dear friend, please tell me puns won't begin polluting our lunch breaks. That was a true atrocity."

Vlad actually laughed.

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The supervisor hummed as she looked over the pair of slacks a tailor newly completed. Her jade eyes scanned the new piece of clothing with scrutiny, slender arms crossed across her Chaldea uniform. Her yellow Logistics division tie hung perfectly around her neck, the collar crisp and the definition of regulation. Shifting weight to the opposite leg, she turned the pants over, smoothed it on the table with her hand, and stared at the white outwear with a small smile. Grabbing the piece by the hanger, she lifted it and turned it around, presenting it to the robot that hovered near silently behind her.

"Send this to the front, please. Also, please tell Evans he did a fantastic job, and that he shouldn't worry about it being late," She smiled.

"Yes, Naomi, right away!" The bot beeped as it took the hanger and made its way towards the front.

It had been a little over a week since her breakdown, and she dared to say she really needed it. Thankfully her lunch meetings with her friends had become as cordial as they hoped. The workplace was a slightly different story after she decided to loosen the reigns a little. A week since she made the changes and still no complaints about the quality of the department's work, much to her contentment. There were a few rumors floating around about what actually brought about the change, with the lead being a secret boyfriend in another division.

The only new change she absolutely loved was the significant drop in hecklers and bad nicknames.

She sat on a chair and pulled out some drawing paper from under her desk, unrolling it so the end just barely graced the new picture frame propped against the wall. She began to draw up a new dress the female servants might be interested in acquiring. Her hands worked like clockwork as they began the outline. Naomi brushed her loose lock of green hair behind her ear, barely brushing against her newest wardrobe addition: a bright red, crocheted rose.

It was the beginning of another consecutive good day for the jade eyed tailor, and she smiled lightly at the thought she didn't even need a cup of coffee to begin this morning. Maybe Medea and Vlad will find that rare cloth and material she requested on their supply sortie, and make the day even better. In the distance, she heard door to the Clothing Department open and presumed another cli-

"Greetings Roman citizens! Your Empress has arrived with her requests for more fashionable outfits!"

Naomi suddenly wished she had three cups of coffee on standby.