Dressed to Kill 2: A Monster Seamstress LitRPG, page 4
The entire status of the abattoir was much higher than many of the other crafters’ businesses. Not only that, but several of them, especially the foreman, actually significantly out-leveled Sandy. They required that many levels and that much progress to process the monsters pulled out of the dungeon.
Alec walked Sandy through the process of cutting up the monster. He even shared his much higher-level Butcher Vision with her.
With his buff applied, she not only saw the red lines of perfect cuts to optimize the yield, but shifting yellow lines in different patterns that showed alternatives. It even surrounded the shadowy monster with a yellow mesh, making it much easier to see through its stealth effect.
Sandy smiled viciously. With two weeks before they had to leave, she had plenty of time to catch back up to Gwen in attributes.
She just had to do it without anyone noticing that she was a butcher herself.
Gerald piled up metal shavings and discarded, polluted metal. The forgemaster next to him looked nervously at the pile of metal.
“You know,” she said, “Buying some more cohesive magic alloys wouldn’t be too expensive. Anything you attempt to forge out of these will be extremely brittle.”
“Not if I enchant it,” Gerald said, staring greedily at the slowly accumulating pile of slag and shavings.
“Enchanting metal of this quality would be a waste!” the forgemaster said. She wore an exasperated look. This was not her first experience with a Noble rampaging through the forge and making demands. Typically, this involved asking for ludicrous weapons or custom orders, or repairs on clearly magical items.
This was the first time she had seen a Noble so obsessed with the forge’s trash.
“Don’t worry about me. I just … can I borrow a forge?”
“Our forges run all day,” she said.
“Then I’ll work overnight.”
Gerald didn’t look away from the pile of metal. To him, every single scrap was a treasure.
I woke to a pounding fist on the door of the estate, sliding out of bed in a panic. I hesitated. The insistence and power behind the knocking felt like there was an emergency on the other side. I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer it.
But the knocking continued as I deliberated.
An unfamiliar attendant greeted me at the door.
“Valjean has sent a summons,” the attendant said. He had a condescending look on his face.
“In the middle of the night?” I asked, aghast.
“It is six seventeen in the morning,” the attendant said.
I rubbed my eyes.
“Okay. I need a few minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
I shut the door and waited a moment. I had no idea why the hell Valjean wanted me in the morning. Unless … he wanted to bring me with him on a dungeon clear?
Excited by the thought, I used [Quick Change] to get dressed. It only took a few seconds. Then I tied my hair back before opening the door.
I paused again at the open door. The attendant stared at me.
“Will there be food?”
“Breakfast will be served,” the attendant said.
I followed him as he led me through the winding guest rooms of the estate halls. Some Nobles lived full time in the estate, coming and going through the halls all day.
We didn’t head to the dungeon. Instead, we headed to one of the open training fields behind the manor. Valjean sat at a table, inspecting a sword. His fingers slid along the naked blade. I knew it wasn’t his weapon of choice; he was practically never without his polearm. When he swept through the dungeon behind us, he rode on horseback the entire time.
He had leveled a whole floor of the dungeon with ease.
Valjean looked up at me.
“Coffee?” he asked.
I rubbed my eyes.
“What is this?” I asked.
“One of the only convenient gaps in my schedule. Yours is appreciably more flexible,” Valjean said. He sheathed the sword and threw it to the attendant, who grabbed it and returned it to a nearby cabinet. “Tell me, how high are your stats right now, Lady Gwen?” Valjean said.
The attendant stood to the side. I looked at him nervously. If I listed off my stats, would he know that they weren’t in the range for most Nobles?
“It’s alright,” Valjean reassured me. “He won’t leak the details of your status to anyone. You can summon your weapons here, Lady Gwen. We only have around half an hour. I’ll see what I can fit into my schedule each day for your training, as well as some time with Sandy and Gerald.”
“Alright,” I said. With a sharp intake of breath, I pulled up my status. Then, piece by piece, I equipped the Arachne-Knight set. It was the one Mom helped me make; a suit of shining white chitin armor, harvested and reassembled from the spiders of the second floor of Stitch’s dungeon. It was all sharp angles and hard pieces, but the interior was soft and padded.
It was by far my most important outfit; it gave me three points of Thread Sensing, helping propel my single Legendary skill to seven. Thread Master gave me the ability to manipulate string; it was an ability I was still working on mastering.
[Gwendolyn Tailor][Human, Lv18][Seamstress]
[Health: 58/58][Mana: 10/10][XP: 0/10]
[ATTRIBUTES]
SPD: 25
WIL: 5
STR: 11
DEX: 42
CON: 29
PER: 9
[SKILLS]
Crafting I
Running Stitch I
Hand Spinning I
Thread Mastery IV
Wardrobe X
Quick Change I
Embellishment III
Pattern Mirroring I
Always Prepared II
[PATTERNS]
Hunter Pattern
Shell Dress Pattern
Houndsmaster Pattern
[TEMPORARY SKILLS]
Bow Proficiency I
Shadow Cloak II
Tracking Proficiency I
Thread Sensing III
Thread Mastery VII
Parry V
Projection III
Trapping III
Befriend III
Wildspeaker I
Wardrobe X was one of my inventory skills. Most classes had at least one, and mine allowed me to store multiple outfits at a time. Not only that, but once I reached tier ten with it, I gained the skills and a percentage of the stats from every outfit I had stored. All of my temporary skills came from the outfits I crafted.
My stats, including the stats from the clothes I was currently wearing, veered easily into the realm of the superhuman. Since I had started wearing the outfits piece by piece and slowly leveling, the difference in my stats over time had been small and subtle at first. It was much more jarring when switching outfits and feeling how much faster and stronger I was.
I listed the numbers out to Valjean.
Valjean nodded along.
“We need to round out your numbers. My specialty is the polearm, but I’ve gained skill proficiencies in multiple weapon styles. With such high dexterity, you’ll want to practice a style that emphasizes finesse. You typically practice with needle swords, yes?”
“I also have these,” I said, activating my other inventory skill—[Always Prepared]. The skill summoned a wooden crate that could contain tailoring tools as well as some basic materials. I had loaded it with thread and cloth. It also contained my oversized sewing needles. By using skills ostensibly designed to stitch together cloth and leather into patterns, I could carve apart monsters.
I pulled out the pair of scissors. Valjean raised an eyebrow. I focused on them for a moment, spending a point of mana.
By expending a mana point, I could cause the scissors to expand in size. They scaled up until they were easily the size of a sword. Pattern Mirroring made it so that whenever I cut a monster, an equal cut appeared. The skill was optimized for cutting multiple pieces of hide or leather or cloth, but it didn’t discriminate against living targets.
Valjean nodded slowly at the giant scissors in my hand. He very carefully and deliberately reached out, then paused, looking to me for permission to grab the pair of giant scissors. I nodded and held them out.
He frowned as he plucked them from my hand.
“Heavy,” he said.
“They don’t feel heavy to me,” I replied.
“Yes. I suppose your class proficiency makes wielding them easier.” He ran his finger along the blade’s edge. There were fine details along the outside of the blade, engraved in the metal by Gerald in a state of crafting mania. They were decorations of spools and scissors and a single line of thread tracing all along the blade. Purple cloth was tied tight to the handle to form a grip.
Valjean nodded at the scissors before handing them back.
“They would be more useful if you raised your strength set higher.”
“Then I just have to craft a set with lots of strength points,” I said.
“For now, let’s practice what you do have.”
“Are we … going to spar?” I asked.
Valjean nodded.
“Training rapiers, please,” he said.
The attendant pulled two blades from the cabinet before presenting them to us. I lifted one.
“I’m not sure my skill will work with this,” I said.
“Give it a try,” Valjean said.
I frowned. For the needles to count, we had to tie a string to the end so that what we were doing was technically sewing. I leaned down to my [Always Prepared] inventory, pulling out a tiny line of thread and tying it to the end. Valjean walked a few paces away, lifting the training sword to me. The edges of it looked sharp. He must have caught my worried glance at the blade.
“These are enchanted to not damage us,” Valjean explained calmly. “You can exercise the full power of your skills. Go ahead.”
I had never stabbed a person before. I didn’t even hold thoughts of eventually overtaking Valjean through force. But now we were pointing swords at each other for a friendly duel.
“Are you ready, Lady Gwen?”
I looked at the rapier in my hand. It was very needle-like. I tried very hard to convince myself it was a needle. Then I activated [Running Stitch].
To my surprise, it worked. The sword shot forward with magically enhanced speed, blurring through the air.
Valjean deflected it. [Running Stitch] kept the sword in my hand. His deflection sent me staggering sideways as a consequence, the force of his simple parry sufficient to throw me off my feet and onto the ground with an “oomph.”
“That will be a problem,” Valjean said from above me. “Did your skill keep you attached to your weapon? Teaching Nobles to cancel weapon skills is one of the early lessons the Academy will foist on you. Guess you’ll have to start learning it early, though.”
I stood up, pointing the sword again and readying myself.
“What are you waiting for?” Valjean asked. “Hit me.”
I stabbed forward, feinting, then activated [Running Stitch]. Because of the magical nature of the skill, I was able to change directions entirely, bypassing his guard and landing a hit on his side. There was a flash of purple and the sword made a ringing noise. I [Canceled] and stepped back.
“Oh! That was excellent, Lady Gwen. You’re a natural,” Valjean said. “Great cancel. Now, let’s fix your posture …”
Valjean correcting me, making me stand straight. I stabbed him again, repeating the feint with the skill. Valjean frowned.
“Lady Gwen, your dexterity is beyond the realm of the commoners. You need to learn to rely not just on your skills, but technique and attributes.”
“I don’t have a chance at hitting you,” I said. Valjean was much faster and stronger than me.
“Hmmm. I thought I was holding back enough.” Valjean sighed. “The point isn’t winning, regardless. It’s getting better. Fighting an insurmountable challenge is one of the best ways to improve.”
I attacked him again. He parried me to the ground again.
“Fix your stance. Like this … I’ll demonstrate.”
“Your posture again. Good job. Clean hit.”
For the next half hour, Valjean repeatedly beat me into the ground before offering one piece of advice or another. Eventually, there was a chime, and his attendant interrupted.
“Sir, it’s time for your morning dungeon clear.”
“Thank you, Thomas.” Valjean sheathed the practice blade and passed it off. “For you, Lady Gwen, practice your form and posture while working on one of the dummies. And keep up your workshop project. I look forward to the results,” he said.
Chapter 5
Ilooked into the crates in the back of the atelier. Sandy had come through after an earlier talk. One of the materials inside of the crates was a caustic-looking leather, covered in fur that was thin and sharply abrasive. The individual hairs were like fiberglass rather than fur. It was mottled acid green and swirled black, rough to the touch. But it had already been processed by the butchers.
It was broken into several pieces. I slowly stitched it together, unable to demonstrate my skills in front of the mundane laborers.
I looked up at Lizzie. She was standing at arm’s distance from me.
“Lady Gwen?” she asked. “Can you show me how to do a cross stitch?”
She looked nervous. I smiled, setting down what I was working on and taking hers before walking her through it. Being a seamstress didn’t mean having the innate skill to do this work—that was acquired with one individual skill point at a time.
I walked Lizzie—and the rest of the group—through all the various skills they needed to learn. The ones who worked the front had to learn to cut the patterns from the leather. Then they had to learn to join the poor pieces back together. The ones in the back needed to learn to stitch. During their normal hours, the back of house mostly performed cutting and prepping; the thicker and stronger leathers required hole punches and other prep work.
Not to mention the atelier also often did finishing touches or partial augmentations to metal armors.
Once we fell into a routine, we worked for the entire four-hour shift in quiet. Most people were completely outside of their comfort zone, slowing them down even more. It would be days before anyone finished their first set.
At the end of the night, I helped clean up the workshop for the morning shift. I was sweeping the floor after the workers had left when Lizzie walked back into the shop. She stood apart from me, staring nervously.
“Hey,” I said.
“Gwen. Lady Gwen!” Lizzie said. Then she paused awkwardly.
“What’s up?” I smiled. It was grating that everyone was so nervous because of my perceived Nobility.
“I was wondering if I could stay late and work more.”
I frowned and looked around the shop.
“I can’t pay you for any more hours.”
“That’s fine!” Lizzie said. She wrung her hands. “I want to … I want to get another level. I’ll help you clean, too!”
I chewed on my lip. I could afford a few more hours directing her.
“Okay,” I said.
Sandy practically sprinted in circles around the butchering platform, swinging with a giant, enchanted knife as large as she was. She was laughing as she went, cutting into an electrically charged jellyfish that hung from the ceiling, dripping brine to the ground.
The Cloudpiercer Jellyfish was another famous export of Foundry. Its nest featured many materials that incorporated mana-rich alloys. Though it had an aquatic appearance, it actually was capable of flying through open air as well. Its body contained alchemical and enchanting components, and its meat was considered a delicacy that also massively raised magic-related stats.
It wasn’t any good for making armor out of, though.
Pieces of it piled up below where other butchers sorted them out, cutting the pieces even further and separating them by use. The alchemical and enchanting regents needed special care and storage, especially without a porter with skills to keep them stable.
She cut into specific patterns and depths; right after cutting into a specific organ, she pulled the knife free and stepped back. A burst of electricity followed, metal grounding rods buzzing as they carried the charge. Sandy braced, holding the rail beside her. Her smile didn’t leave her face. Then she continued on.
The work in the rest of the workshop had almost completely stopped as the other butchers stared up at her.
“Was that Butcher Sight?” one of the butchers asked.
The woman next to him punched his arm.
“Lady Sandy is a Noble. She can’t have Butcher Sight. It’s probably Expose Weakness or Environmental Mastery.”
“How does Environmental Mastery let her see the organs?” the man asked, confused.
“I hear it highlights ways to hurt monsters with other monsters. Acid sacks, fire breath. The works,” she said. She had an admiring smile. “Lady Sandy is on track to beat Alec’s level-twenty record. It’s too bad she was Chosen.”
A door to an office blew open in the back.
“What are you standing around gawking at? Get back to work!” Alec shouted at the low-level butchers on the floor. He stared up and quirked a smile at Sandy.
Alec would never say no to free labor.
Gerald crackled maniacally at three in the morning. The forgemaster stared at him nervously with bags under her eyes. Gerald didn’t even seem a little tired, though.
“That weapon is way too big for anyone to even use …” she whispered to herself. Then she shook her head. Not her business. The kid wasn’t going to burn the place down. She went home to sleep.
I managed to sleep in that morning. Valjean interrupted my lunch instead.
I had new bruises. Valjean was teaching me to block. Even if the enchantment on the weapon stopped it from cutting or lowering HP, it still hurt like hell.
And my lunch was cold by the time I got back to it.
I could hardly complain. The chefs Valjean employed were on par with Henri—Sandy’s dad, a chef who lived in Stitch. Even cold, the meal was still fantastic. It was too bad they didn’t have something as extravagant as enchanted plates that kept food at the perfect temperature. That would be perfect for ice cream.
