Spun Of Thread Or Love

“I didn’t expect you lot to be after dresses. —Well then, here we are. Come in.”

“Can’t say whether you’ll get exactly what you want, mind.” Adding that, the elder mage—who had given her name as Ibomia—stepped into a small shop.

The tailor Nima, nestled in a corner of the royal capital, was modest in scale.

The building was aged, the years etched into it. And to cap it off, one pane of glass was cracked.

Aidoni did not show it on her face, but Noi thought she must be disappointed.

She had surely wanted to shop at a glittering boutique like the ones written about in her books.

This shop’s exterior was a far cry from the place she had dreamed of.

In her arms was the book she had flung at Ornis. He had handed it back to her earlier.

There was still no conversation between them, but neither did they go out of their way to avoid each other.

A little bell hung from the front door, chiming softly to announce customers.

When they stepped inside, gentle light from the windows bathed the shop.

The warm wooden floor had been polished to a shine; though it dealt in clothing, not a single thread scrap or speck of dust could be seen.

Beside the shop’s lone counter, a single seamstress worked in silence. Beside her sat well-worn sewing tools and a needle box.

As if breathing life back into fabric made soft and limp by long use, the seamstress guided the needle stitch by careful stitch.

When Noi stared at the cracked windowpane, Ibomia clicked her tongue and twitched her fingers. In a blink, the pane slid back into place—though the crack itself remained.

“That so-called Hyuetos Magic Count who came before looked down on our goods and knocked things over—smashed it then. I’ve held it together with magic, but as you can see, the moment I step away it goes right back. I’d buy a new pane if I could, but ever since his rampage, customers have stayed away. What a fool’s mess we got dragged into.”

Glass was a luxury. You didn’t simply replace it the moment it broke.

“Oh, Grandma—welcome back.”

Startled back to herself by the voices, the seamstress scrambled to her feet.

The shopkeeper at this cozy place was a young girl. Her clothes were plain in texture, yet her sense for color showed through.

“Oh? Customers as well? Welcome.”

She bowed in a hurry, and her two braids swung wide. Her warm smile let Noi and the others, fresh from the storm of events, finally breathe out.

“Rinary! These kids are looking for dresses to wear to the upcoming ball.”

“The upcoming ball… the palace-sponsored one? Grandma! I’ve told you over and over—we can’t make such grand dresses!”

The granddaughter, called Rinary, cried out in a near-scream.

For all it was called a tailor, this seemed not a couture atelier but a shop selling ready-to-wear for common folk.

On the rails hung restrained garments of similar design. Clothes trickled down from noble or wealthy houses were redyed, resized, and refitted into pieces affordable for ordinary families, then sent back out into the world.

“You can do it. Haven’t I always said so? You just haven’t had the chance till now. This is a fine opportunity. And these kids owe me—perfect for practice, aren’t they?”

“Grandma…! Don’t say things like that in front of customers!”

Rinary looked ready to topple over backward. Pitying the granddaughter who seemed on the verge of fainting, Noi joined in with a laugh.

“The truth is, every shop has turned us away—we’re at our wits’ end. We’d be grateful for any dress at all.”

“Milady… you may not know yet, but if you wore something from our place to the palace, people would point and laugh.”

Face gone pitiably pale, the granddaughter shook her head.

Noi had worked at the palace before.

She had seen the comings and goings up close—and had even been invited to a ball.

In short, Noi knew: the clothes here wouldn’t meet the dress code.

Even so, she didn’t mind. That was how resolved she was for Kardia’s sake—even if it meant being shamed.

“I brought someone with a heavy purse.”

Noi tugged at Kardia’s clothes with a poke-poke, and Aidoni let out a little laugh.

“…Hey, you. Is that one for sale?”

Since entering the shop, Kardia had been quietly eyeing the goods; now he pointed to a cloth hanging on the wall.

It was a piece about the size of a stole. A fine, beautiful fabric woven in indigo thread. At first glance it looked ordinary, but when Noi saw it she let out an “Ah.”

“…Is mana woven into the thread?”

“You’ve got a good eye, miss.”

The tall Ibomia reached up and took the cloth down. The group gathered around to gaze at it in her hands.

“…A magic circle?”

“No, I don’t see any circles. But it looks as if the threads were infused with mana before weaving.”

“Indeed. Mana and thread play well together. There’s even a song about it, after all.”

When it came to magic, mages forgot their quarrels and started talking. Kardia sided with Aidoni’s opinion to Ornis.

The way mana was twisted resembled the way thread was twisted.

So, when children became apprentices to mages, the very first thing they were made to learn was this song.

Spin the thread, spin it round and round—turning as we ply the ancient strand.

Stretch and draw it, clatter-clatter—now begins our journey of magic.

Tra-la-la la-la…

Out comes the thread, out it flows—gliding through air, a shimmering line.

Gleaming with colors, twinkle-twinkle—through heaven’s ring, a magic door.

Tra-la-la la-la…

Weave the thread, weave it, stitch by stitch—from here to there, and far beyond.

As we wish, flutter-flutter—let magic thread make wishes true.

Tra-la-la la-la…

Through song, one learned—making study and knowledge a joy.

“This thread is enchanted to glow when you pour mana into it.”

As Rinary said this, Ibomia breathed a little mana into the cloth. In moments, points of light bloomed faintly across it.

“Amazing…”

It was a technique she had never seen. As Noi marveled—so they could make such wondrous fabric a century on—Aidoni let out a delighted cry beside her.

“Beautiful… I never knew a cloth this lovely existed!”

Aidoni’s eyes shone brighter than any jewel they had seen at En Dima.

“Please—could you make Noi-sama’s dress from this fabric!?”

Downcast all day till now, Aidoni broke into her brightest smile yet.

“Right? Noi-sama! You like this fabric too, don’t you!?”

“I do. This one, without question.”

Delighted by Aidoni’s smile, Noi beamed back.

But Rinary shook her head vehemently.

“I-I can’t! It took Grandma and me two whole months just to get it to this size… The palace ball is next week, right? Spinning the thread, weaving the cloth, and sewing a dress from scratch now… it’s absolutely impossible!”