The Wanderer's Rebirth: Other Paths

After promising to return to continue learning, Joram left and headed to the textile place next. It took him a bit to get over the brutal appraisal of his work, though. But, really, what could he expect after having used a hammer to shape metal for the first time? Sure, all that knowledge was there, but he supposed that he’d have to work on his technique some more before he got “good”.

He was pretty interested in the textile place because they made their own thread, cloth, and fabric there, several different kinds in fact. Which made him want to have a look see.

“You want to what?” the man in reception asked, giving him a look of disbelief.

He called it reception, but really it looked more a cross between a store front and a display area. He assumed that this would be where people ordered their fabric after having had a chance to see and feel it.

“I’d like to observe how the weavers work,” he said, trying hard to keep smiling.

This guy seemed to be a male Karen, whatever those were called.

“You do realize that our techniques are trade secrets, right?” the guy asked pretentiously.

“Sorry to bother you,” he replied with his customer service smile, turned, and left.

Outside, he took a moment to use a bit of [Clear Mind] before once again heading off. Thinking about it, he decided to head to one of the clothing shops that Celys had pointed out on his tour of Kirkwall. He hadn’t met the owner, but was willing to give it a go if he could learn a bit more about how to properly make clothing.

Heading inside, the first thing that he noticed was how neat and tidy everything was, well organized and laid out. From the shelves with their perfectly folded product to how straight the clothing hung from their hangers on the racks, it would have made any corporate merchandiser gasp for joy, or green with envy.

The next thing he noticed, or in this case a person, was the stereotypical flaxen haired, green eyed, gorgeous elf lady sitting behind the counter reading a book.

She glanced up at his arrival, seemed to take in everything about him at a glance, then closed her book.

“If you’re looking for new clothing made from the same materials that you’re currently sporting, I’m afraid that you’re out of luck,” she said as she shook her head slightly. “But if you’re looking to blend into Kirkwall a bit more, then I have anything you could need,” she finished with a professional smile.

Well, that’s quite the greeting, he though, now grinning.

“I was hoping to maybe get some pointers in fashion,” he replied, shifting into social mode.

“I can certainly help with that,” she said, still smiling. “But if we’re going to be interacting more, now and in the future, you can drop the charismatic act. I don’t imagine that it comes easy, so conversing when you’re acting like that will be tiring for us both,” she said, first seeing through him like a bay window, then cutting him to the quick with her blunt, if honest, words.

Holy mother of-. I thought elves were supposed to either be paragons of diplomacy or just arrogant jackasses. Who knew that I’d find such a breath of fresh air?!

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I’m terribly… un-social, but I’ve found that people prefer when I ‘try’ to be social,” he finished, not knowing the word for introvert here.

“People are people. I am me. We’ll get along much better if you’re just yourself with me,” she said, shrugging.

“Well, then, I’m Joram. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, holding his hand out to shake.

“And I am Ilyana, a pleasure,” she said, giving him a genuine smile while shaking his hand with her slender hand. “So, you wanted to know about fashion?” she asked, returning to the reason for his visit.

“Yes. I find that I’m not very good at putting together clothes,” he said, plucking at his t-shirt.

Ilyana leaned forward to get a better look, then just got up and stepped around the counter.

“May I?” she asked gesturing to his clothing, and getting a nod from him.

She took several minutes looking over everything, plucking and tugging here and there as she examined just about every square centimetre of his outfit. As she inspected him, he took the time to give her a look-over.

Her own clothing was very well put together, reminding him of the costumes in the Lord of the Rings movies. Her light jacket, a forest green in colour, covered a simple creamy-white blouse and came down past her hips where she wore elegant straight-cut forest green pants, that matched her jacket, that went all the way to her ankles. Even her shoes were closer to slippers, and appeared to be made of some thick cloth. Comfy looking, though.

“Is this some sort of cotton blend?” she asked once she straightened up, giving him a curious look.

“Yes,” he replied simply, not wanting to shift back into social mode by trying to say more.

“The cut and seams seem to have been done well enough,” she said, shaking her head. “But they seem… off,” she finished, apparently at a loss on how to describe what she saw.

“That’s probably because I… summoned them?” he said, not quite sure how to describe it to her.

She blinked at him, then blinked again as a slight frown tugged at her lips and he got another System notification.

“But you don’t appear to have a Path,” she said, looking a bit curious and a bit guarded at the same time.

He sighed, then tried to explain.

“I get that a lot. I am indeed Pathless, but my… people, are gifted with innate abilities that take various forms. For me, I can summon-make things and stuff,” he said, indicating his clothing once more. “I’d like to fit in better here, so I thought that learning how to make clothing would help with that,” he finished, then looked at her again to see what she thought of all that.

She was frowning, which scared him a bit because he had started to take a liking to the blunt woman and didn’t want to be kicked out for “spouting nonsense”.

She seemed to mull over what he’d said before speaking.

“That’s certainly… unique,” she said, earning a frown from him that she seemed to correctly interpret. “OK, that just sounds crazy, but none of my Skills are saying that you’re lying. So, unique” she said with a wry smile.

“I appreciate the honesty,” he said, feeling relieved.

“It’s what I asked of you, after all,” she said, now smiling in a more relaxed way. “So, let’s get to showing you the ropes,” she said, then motioned for him to follow her.

The back room was just as organized as the shop portion of the building. There were several differently sized mannequins spaced out along one wall, while the other walls contained dozens of shelves completely filled with various fabrics in a multitude of colours. There were two large tables where he saw various scissors and shears organized in neat lines along with several bowls filled with pins.

Then came Sewing 101, then 201, then 301, followed by the Masters’ Course. As Ilyana got more drawn into her explanations, becoming more passionate as she taught him, her slender fingers started moving faster and faster as she worked. By the end of the demonstrations, her fingers were almost blurring as she worked.

“That was… amazing,” he said, not quite sure how to describe the wonder she’d shown him.

That seemed to fully bring her back to the moment, causing her to look a bit embarrassed.

“Thank you,” she said, giving him a warm smile. “And sorry, I tend to get overly enthusiastic when I have such a good student to teach,” she said, sounding quite happy.

“Ah, it was a pleasure watching a master at work,” he said honestly, shrugging away how weird it felt to speak so openly with someone.

She eyed him for a moment after that, probably trying to determine if he was just flattering her or not.

“Thank you,” she repeated, then seemed to come to a decision. “If you’d like to learn more, I’d be happy to help.”

“I’d like that, thank you,” came his reply before working out a schedule, which taught him a couple of things.

For one, there were apparently eight days in a week here, but still four weeks to a month. Then an item got checked off his list when he found out that there were twenty-five hours in a day here, explaining why his internal clock was so messed up.

They decided on one day per week, from just after lunch until evening. Then, after once again thanking Ilyana, he set off… soon surrounded by foxes, including Harumi.

Seeing as how it was already early evening, he decided to just head back to the Manelle’s place and try to deal with the awkwardness of what had happened last night.

“Joram!”

He turned and saw the healer from the clinic he’d woken up in and paused, wondering why she was sprinting after him, but he quickly found out.

“How?!” she panted as she tried to catch her breath, motioning with one hand at his right leg.

“Ah, umm, let’s go for a walk,” he said, motioning for the woman to follow him.

He walked slowly, for him, to allow her to catch her breath as they went. She kept trying to get him to answer her questions as they walked, but he kept deflecting and telling her that they’d talk more when they arrived. He also finally got her to introduce herself as they went, which allowed him to stop calling her “nurse-lady” in his head.

Which was a very long ten minutes until they were in the back yard of the Manelle’s residence.

“So, how?!” Melois asked, her patience fraying at the edges.

“So, that’s very personal, but suffice it so say that it stems from an innate ability of my people,” he said, trying very hard not to just shoo the woman away.

“Humans can’t regrow limbs,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Who said that I’m human?” he retorted with a frown.

“What?” Melois asked, her folded arms loosening.

“Anyways,” he said, not wanting in the least to get into it right then. “Not human. Innate abilities. Can’t do it for anyone else *cough*-right now-*cough*,” he finished, fudging the last part with coughing because he still didn’t like to lie.

Melois was crushed, her hopes of finding a way to restore lost limbs blowing away in the evening breeze. Even though she wasn’t his favourite person for having amputated his leg, which he could have (probably) healed, she had done so with the belief that it would save his life. So, it was a bit hard to see how dejected she was over the news.

“Would you like to stay for supper?” he asked, trying to do something to make her feel a bit better.

She nodded, then followed him inside, the metaphorical cloud over her head following her inside.

Then he explained why Melois was there for dinner, leaving out the pity part, and left her to talk with Celys and Nalun. Which left him open to being pounced on by Asami and Myra.

“Where were you all day?” Myra asked as Asami just clung to him like velcro.

“I wanted to start learning a few things,” he said vaguely, not wanting them to know where he’d been, or the why.

“Smithy,” Asami said, wrinkling her nose a bit as she turned her head to the side. “Then fabric. Not sure, but he smells a bit elfy,” she said, shocking him with just how accurate her nose was.

“Why?” Myra asked, looking more than a little bit confused. “Can’t you make stuff with your mind?”

Sighing, he shuffled over to the cushions in the living room and eventually detached Asami long enough to sit down.

“Yes, but knowing how things are made will help me to make better things,” he said, shrugging, then regretting it as he felt what it did to Asami’s chest that was currently pressed into his side.

Which got a mischievous smile from Asami.

“Well, that makes sense,” Myra said, missing Asami’s look. “Well, just let me know when you’ll be off apprenticing, and I’ll adjust my schedule accordingly,” she said, sounding for all the world that she had a set schedule.

After that, the conversations turned more mundane before supper was served. Then, once done with supper, he bade Melois a good night, and everyone else, then quickly retired to his room.

It seemed as though Myra hadn’t realized how she’d been sleeping, nor had Asami realized what she’d been trying to eat in her sleep, so he left it well enough alone. Then, after his evening routine, he tried to figure out a way to avoid such things in the future.

He eventually just decided to place another screen between their beds and wear a thicker shirt in the vain hope that Asami wouldn’t be able to nibble on him as easily. Food dreams were scary.

Then bedtime came and he got to meditating again.

The predawn came without incident, greatly relieving him after a long night of worry. He still avoided looking towards where Myra slept, in case she’d wound up like she had the night before last. After his morning routine was completed, he went to the next part of his morning routine with Linette.

There, he tried to answer her questions about the butter cookies and how to make them. So, after having finished preparing the bread dough, they began experimenting with cookie dough. He remembered the rough recipe and ratios, being: 1 part flour, 1 part sugar, 0.8 parts butter, with a bit of salt and one or two teaspoons of vanilla extract. And one or two egg yokes.

The problem was that they didn’t have any granulated sugar, nor had they gone and made dried honey, or granulated honey. So, when they tried to use honey as a substitute, it didn’t work out very well. Sure, they made for a tasty snack, but they were much moister than what he’d been aiming for. Maybe he should try making granulated honey? Yeah, that sounded like it would work.

Then they finished up, cleaned up, and headed off for breakfast.

Which passed quietly enough, so he once again headed out, followed by his usual entourage. Having had enough with training his crafting skills, he headed back to his house to get some more work done.

This time, he finished up the wall, making sure it was at least seven metres high at every point. He also made sure to finish [Delve]’ing everything that he’s stored into his inventory, repacking them into real crates.

After that, his head was practically swimming with everything that he’d committed to memory. The hard drives were especially difficult, for he suspected that when he replicated them, they’d have all the data that he’d stored on them, ready to be read. What was more important, for his immediate needs, was that he’d also [Delve]d the construction materials he’d stored away.

Now that he’d acquired how to make the stuff, he would soon be able to use [Modify Matter] to recreate everything that he would need to finish his house. His next largest hurdle, though, was to find the raw materials he’d need before he could make any of it. And considering that modern construction materials were made in factories that sourced what they needed from practically all over the country, if not the continent, he might be in a bit of a pickle.

Then another thought occurred to him, so he pulled out a two-by-four and examined it for a minute.

“What are you doing?” Myra asked when he stopped walking.

“I just remembered something,” he said, the used [Grow] on it to produce seeds from the plank of wood.

Then he sighed as the plank swiftly turned in to dozens of seeds that fell to the forest floor. Using [Telekinesis] to pick them up, he continued.

“I was thinking that it would be nice to have a softer wood to make things with. There’s a game I miss playing that uses this kind of wood for its board, so I got a bit nostalgic,” he said, a bit embarrassed to admit that… for whatever reason.

As Myra nodded at him, he wondered why he should be embarrassed about anything anymore. He was who he was. He was in a new world, with completely new people, and with a… mostly blank slate. They didn’t care if he was nostalgic about his home, they just seemed to be happy that he was there.

Once all of the seeds were picked up, and he checked three times, he retrieved a crate that had his sandwich bags and slid the seeds into one. With that done, the packed everything away again before storing the crate away again.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Myra said, looking a bit nervous… or apprehensive? “But, are you using an [Inventory]?”

“Yes?” he answered, not sure why she’d be nervous about asking that.

“Well, it’s just that they’re incredibly rare. Not only that, but anyone with an [Inventory] is supposed to register and have it added to their identification card,” she said, now sounding more than a bit nervous about breaking the news to him, as though he’d blame her for the rule.

“Ah, I didn’t know that,” he said, regretting letting Myra and Asami see that he had one. “I don’t suppose you could keep that to yourself, could you?”

Myra looked incredibly conflicted, to the point that she was starting to get incredibly frustrated.

“Ah, don’t worry about it, I’ll get it sorted,” he said, giving her a pat on the head as they left his new front gate on their way back to Kirkwall.

Myra seemed incredibly relieved at that and even gave him a small smile.

“Sorry for asking that of you,” he said, then turned to make sure none of the foxes got locked behind the gate.

Once everyone was out, he closed the gate and had one of his construction models lower the huge bar on the inside of said gate, locking it tight. Once more leaving the astral constructs to guard the place, they started heading to Kirkwall.

Maybe tomorrow he’d go get the rest of his stuff from that warehouse.

Hopefully there would be something left for him to pick up.