Author Artemis
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Sarah's Story Chapter 012 - Fashion
🕑 Added 2025-06-12 18:00:07 +0000 UTCAs a young child, Sarah had always been of the opinion that she had the best mom in the world.
As she grew older, she became even more confident that she had the best mother in the world, in no small part because of how strong a Brawler she was.
Now Sarah was growing concerned that, in fact, her mother was somewhat beyond categorization as the best mother in the world, and was something else, because of her Homemaker class.
“Home is where the heart is,” her mother had told her once, when explaining the Homemaker class in detail before Sarah’s choosing day. Normal Homemakers were strongest in their actual home, and were skilled in keeping the home tidy and in good repair; in cooking and cleaning; in raising and caring for children; and in supporting a working husband. It was a good class for young women who aspired to be housewives and raise a family. There were even some very, very minor combat skills, though restricted to “the home.”
Helen, it seemed, had a very expansive understanding of what “the home” was.
The first oddity was the carriage they borrowed from the local Lord to take them to the capital. Not the mere fact that the Lord was lending them a carriage, for Sarah’s mother had been working for the Lord for years now, training his knights; and not that the Lord seemed nervous at the thought of them not taking the carriage, and instead striking out on their own to make it to the capital by their own devices. No, it was how upon entering the carriage, her mother swept out some dust and the interior of the carriage instantly became spotless. Even the paint seemed brighter, and the cushions softer.
It was a very comfortable ride to the capital.
The second oddity was when they stopped overnight at an inn, halfway to the capital. Sarah had received training in expanding her perception by hearing, so she could pick out several distinct conversations and follow at least two of them at once, even without a skill. After confirming their lodging arrangements, Sarah had been asked to prepare the room while her mother sat silent, apparently meditating.
Sarah had shrugged and gone along with it, unpacking and hanging up clothes for the morrow, checking the bedding to ensure it was clean, filling the water jug with fresh water from the well, and so on. No Homemaker herself, it took her some time, but not as long as an hour. At the well in particular, Sarah tried to listen to the other women as they stood around chatting, and the men working in the stables tending to the guests’ horses.
“The harvest looks like it’ll be good this year, doesn’t it?”
“Go fetch another bale of hay!”
“I’ve never seen a pair of horses so relaxed and in such great condition after a full day’s carriage ride.”
“Oh but this water is cold!”
“Have you heard of the latest fashion in the capital? Long skirts are in this season!”
“Good news for Samantha and her family, they’ve been weaving all season. Do you think they knew ahead of time?”
“This horse needs re-shoeing.”
Sarah finished filling the jug and brought it back up to the room, and found her mother picking through the luggage, pulling out a skirt reaching down to just below her knees.
“Oh, Mom, I overheard down at the well, apparently long-”
“Yes dear, I heard. You get changed as well– I think you have a short skirt in your bag, yes?”
“Huh?” Sarah felt like she’d misunderstood something.
It became more clear that evening, when they ate in the inn’s dining hall. Her mother had offered to help in the kitchen to defray some of their traveling costs. The inn’s proprietor was thrilled, as one of their cooks had fallen ill earlier that day and they were shorthanded. In seemingly no time at all, Sarah’s mother was friends with all the other inn staff, and then all the inn’s guests as she brought them their food.
“Yes, we’re from Mortimer Barony, on our way to visit family in the capital. My daughter just had her choosing day you see.” Helen gestured towards Sarah, now wearing her shortest skirt, down only as far as her knees.
Sarah realized that this was the woman who had been talking about fashions in the capital.
“Oh dear, oh dear! Helen, you haven’t heard?”
“Heard what, Jessica?”
Sarah wasn’t sure when Jessica had given her name, but she had been focused on preparing table settings.
“You can’t go to the capital dressed like that! Your poor daughter will be–”
Sarah lost track of her mother’s conversation as the inn’s proprietor gave her more tasks. But before she knew it, her mother was introducing her to Samantha, who happened to be visiting the inn that evening to receive orders for cloth, and was now going to dine with them.
Sarah had heard her mother gossip before, chatting with the other housewives in their village.
But she’d never heard two women talk so fast before.
She lost track of the conversation about halfway through dinner, and from that point mainly focused on eating and processing the new feelings from her Brawler class. It was… a vague disappointment? The dining area was spacious, with plenty of seating for guests. There was no bar, and only a local wine and local ale were on the menu. Sarah had tried the wine and found it tasty, but weak. Her mother had opted simply for water, and so after the taste test, Sarah had followed her lead. There were multiple exits from the dining hall: one led to the kitchen, one to a back area for staff, one led to the proprietor's office, one led directly outside, where more seating was available, and finally one led to the reception area.
Sarah had half expected to improve at least one of her skills here, but no. Even her [Danger Sense] was entirely dormant, and as she gathered the plates from their table to bus them back to the kitchen, she realized it was because her mother was there with her.
Who could possibly put her in danger with her mother there?
By the time Sarah returned, her mother and Samantha were hugging like the best of friends.
“Sarah, can you go fetch my purse from our room? Samantha is giving us just the best deal on some cloth! You see, we’ll need long skirts, that’s what’s in fashion in the capital these days. On you go!” Helen had, thankfully, slowed down her speech to a level Samantha could understand.
And so that evening, in the fading light, Sarah found herself doing training exercises under her mother’s direction, while her mother sat with newly purchased cloth, sewing them into skirts.
Sarah shifted hands and continued doing one-handed handstand pushups. “So I don’t understand why we needed new skirts, we already have some longer skirts.”
Helen smirked, and what followed was a long, detailed explanation of all the gossip in the inn that night, an explanation of Samantha’s own gossip network which expanded as far as the clothing merchants in the capital, and the importance of connections and fashion in building a gossip network.
“So you see,” Helen concluded, an hour after Sarah had asked her question, “we’ll need to be properly fashionable in the capital, where they take that kind of thing more seriously, so that people will take us more seriously. And besides, I got a great deal on this cloth.”
Helen held up the two now finished skirts, and Sarah couldn’t help but be impressed. They really were nice looking skirts, and the cloth was high quality.
And the next afternoon, as they alighted from the carriage, Sarah saw her mother’s wisdom firsthand. The very first guard at the gate, as they stood in line to present their letter from the Baron, pulled them out of line to speak in the gatehouse. Sarah grew tense, but it turned out that the guard’s wife and daughters were desperate to get their hands on longer skirts, but prices had gone up, and now even cloth was dear, and he was at his wit’s end.
And so Helen referred him to a merchant in town who would be receiving a shipment of cloth from Samantha in a few days.
And so the guard wrote them letters of introduction to the adventurer’s guild head receptionist and a small, invitation-only inn near the center of the capital which accepted long term stays.
And finally, after the most cursory glance at the Baron’s letter, and they skipped the long line to enter the city, Helen asked casually “Oh, and one last thing Henry.”
“Sure, anything for you, Helen.” he replied.
“What’s the roughest bar in town?”
