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Chapter 5! Tailor Gau.

The switch to shorter chapters begins. Sorry, but it's necessary. My production is holding steady at 1200+ words/day, which going forward should allow me to publish a chapter per weekday while still increasing my backlog and allowing me time and focus for other things.

This may result in the occasional cliffhanger, he said, shamelessly distancing himself from the responsibility by switching to the passive third-person voice.

Yes, I know some readers complain about them, and some of those even mean it, but I like them, sometimes. One of my favorite parts about good storytelling is that "must-know-what-happens-next" feeling, and, well, Oscar Wilde done Wilder -

Spoiler

Propers at the Youtube clip, for those who want to hear Gene's incomparable delivery.

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As Justin expected, Lua led him to the fitters for Shinbi’s personal household, rather than some branded spa shop in the professional side of the complex. He might have started out with buying the Madame’s discretion, but the favor he was being shown felt like much more than a merely financial exchange. He figured some of it, maybe most, was the early advantage prospect of an otherwise unaffiliated healer alchemist.

But the personal reference from the Daigo kids also had to have something to do with it. Had to. There was clearly much more to those two than the opportunistic savvy they’d displayed. Justin made a mental note to ask about them as soon as he’d acquired a sufficiently trustworthy advisor. Probably an advocate, if Ribe recognized the privilege of client confidentiality.

He’d simply been trying to be a decent person to them, too. Whatever certain people liked to bitterly claim to the contrary, Justin knew better; sometimes being kind paid off, and in big ways. Newton’s Third Law applied to more than the physics of the material universe alone, he’d learned.

Whomever you can spare, he said politely, when the Madame’s Chamberlain asked for his preference between a male or female fitter. I only wish to disturb the household as little as I can. That got him some approving looks. And later, from the thin, balding older man named Mister Gau whom the Chamberlain assigned to help him, some helpful information about ranks and titles and professional regulation, after Justin described his desired presentation as a young independent magical crafter to him.

In the narrow, cramped cloths storage, Gau piled bagged bolts of fabric in Justin’s arms selected from the packed racks around them before they climbed a pair of ladders that led to the attic. It was filled with dusty crates and chests and loom parts in the middle, and worktables at each end, under triangular hip windows and roof hatches open for lighting.

Sarongs, vests, and shirts were leisure clothes, Gau explained as he took Justin’s measurements, indicating a readiness to socialize. Trousers and tunics were work clothes, signifying someone who was on the job, and didn’t have time for unrelated interactions. Vests on men were more blue-collar markers, and the guayabera tunics more white-collar, but there was plenty of overlap. The social signaling was less about socioeconomic position than how serious the wearer’s basic personality was, and the status they thought they merited.

So a career tradesman as hard-boiled as Justin’s father would have been a guayatunic man all the way to his grave. And in denim, or ‘oarcloth’ here, too; unriveted, and dyed brown by default instead of blue, but it was standard wear for an alchemist, and bleach-white when worn formally.

And robes like those on Lua and Miss Mai were internal household servants clothes for the middle to upper classes; the more layers and the higher quality, the more formal and the higher the status, respectively.

That established, Gau pulled out the raw fabrics and started stitching together a half dozen sets of work clothes and two formal whites for him, while Justin practiced tying on the shorter male sarong. Justin should buy unembroidered vests or guayatunics premade off the rack, Gau added as he worked. Upper-body social clothes made for Justin by the Madame’s household had inappropriate personal implications, while premade blank ones would indicate that he was open to making new connections with people.

“So families gift social shirts to men and boys as an invitation or sign of closer bonds,” Justin mused, “and embroider them as means of conveying individuation?”

“You catch on quick,” Gau approved, hemming with the unconscious skill of decades of experience. “Women and girls get ribbons. There’re many subtleties, but asking about a person’s embroideries is always a good topic. Keep at it, and you’ll be proficient before you realize.”

According to Gau, Ribe had Schools and Associations instead of Guilds. To Justin, the name sounded more like something from the cultivation webnovels and manhua that

oh
Chloe
Chloe
I miss you

and her post-Rumspringa circle of friends had liked, but as Gau continued, Justin realized that the differences were minimal. Schools were usually named for the one dominant family that led them, rather than what they did. However, like classical guilds, they had legally defined territories across the city where they monopolized their markets. It was commonly just an infraction, at worst a misdemeanor, to work over those boundaries, or without School oversight. But in neighborhoods where the Schools were reliable, competent, and appreciated, word got around about under-the-table scabbing, and the resulting fines made it unprofitable.

On the other hand, over time those monopolies tended to lead to corruption, and consequential reductions in quality and reputation. That was naturally followed by increasing unreported gray-market competition, which self-organized into non-familial Associations. After that came the gradually up-scaling violence between the School and the Association until at last the nearby Schools and the government stepped in to reorganize things before the trouble spilled over into the tourism economy.

The Schools were usually replaced by the private, non-familial Associations after that, more accurately named for their area and line of work. And then, over more time, families rose to prominence in those Associations and took them over, or branches of the larger families cooperated across the boundaries to undercut them at a local loss, or the territorial monopoly policy started corrupting the Associations themselves, and the cycle rolled over again.

Alchemy, to Justin’s relief, was in a solid, early Association phase over the great majority of the city at present. And thanks in large part to Ribe’s plethora of enchanted waters, the craft had a larger market here than many other cities, including a non-trivial export segment. He still hadn’t mentioned spellcasting to anyone yet, and was in no hurry to change that. He figured he had a lot more to learn before he opened that box in public.

Gau was just finishing up Justin’s last work suit when Miss Mai appeared again, carrying a black lacquered platter with a flat brown pouch on it. She was accompanied by another guardsman, much younger that the others Justin had seen, but every bit as assured. He was carrying a small leather valise, clean, but with the scuffs and marks of long use.

“Your funds, Mister Carse,” she said, holding out the platter. Her voice was a cool contralto.

Flannel

Favorite line in this chapter -

Spoiler

Newton’s Third Law applied to more than the physics of the material universe alone, he’d learned.

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