Over the next few days, the “fashion empire” formed by Kiro, Patches, and Boc fell into an unprecedented crisis.
Their status as “teaching aids” gave them permission to move freely around the Academy.
And that was all.
Every time Patches tried to sell the robe that supposedly represented “the future of fashion in the Lands Between” to a passing sorcerer, all he received was a contemptuous look and a cold—
“Stay away from me, merchant.”
Kiro tried using the same shameless persistence that had worked so well on Fia.
It failed completely.
The sorcerers ignored her pestering and tantrums.
A few of the more short-tempered ones even blasted holes into the ground beside her feet with sorcery as a warning.
Boc, meanwhile, had fallen completely into self-doubt.
The robe he had spent so much effort making had become unwanted trash here.
He spent his days hiding in the corner of the room assigned to them, clutching his sewing kit without saying a word.
“This won’t work!”
Patches paced anxiously back and forth across the room.
“Our product simply can’t break into their circle! These sorcerers won’t budge! They don’t care about fashion at all!”
“It’s all that bastard Loran’s fault!”
Kiro angrily threw a cushion onto the floor.
“He tricked us into coming here, then just abandoned us! Who knows where he ran off to enjoy himself!”
Only Roderika sat quietly in the corner, taking no part in their complaints.
She was fully focused on the perfume bottle and the collection of jars and containers in front of her.
Ever since she had discovered her own value during the battle against Godrick, she had poured all of her passion into the craft of perfumery.
At the moment, she was preparing an Ironjar Aromatic, something that could temporarily make a person’s skin as hard as steel.
Roderika looked at the sample robe lying on the table.
Then she looked at the strange-smelling paste in her hands.
A thought suddenly flashed through her mind.
She picked up a small piece of cloth, spread the paste evenly across it, then carefully folded the fabric and stitched it into a tiny sachet.
The sachet was not particularly elegant.
In fact, it was a little crooked.
But when she held it in her hand, the original harsh smell had been replaced by an unusual fragrance.
It was a complicated scent mixed with earth, metal, and plant roots.
Strangely enough, it carried a heavy, reassuring quality.
“What are you doing?”
Kiro noticed what she was doing and curiously leaned closer.
“I… I was just thinking…”
Roderika spoke softly.
“If… if we sew this into the clothing, maybe… it might make it better?”
Patches also stopped pacing and looked suspiciously at the small sachet.
Kiro picked it up and sniffed it.
Her face immediately twisted in disgust.
“What kind of smell is this? It smells like rusty scrap metal. What’s this supposed to do?”
Roderika did not argue.
She simply picked up her needle and thread, quietly walked over to the sample robe, and stitched the inconspicuous sachet into an inner pocket.
A place where it would not affect the appearance, but would remain close to the wearer’s body.
“…Done.”
The next day.
The Haima Conspectus classroom.
The battlemages here did not only study glintstone sorcery.
They also placed great importance on physical training.
They would enchant their weapons with magic and conduct practical combat drills against one another.
During one such sparring match, a young battlemage had his arm cut open by his partner’s thrusting sword.
“Tch. Again.”
He looked at the wound on his arm and complained irritably.
“These damn sorcerer robes are like they’re made of paper!”
He was an apprentice of the Haima Conspectus.
His family was not particularly wealthy, so he could only wear the lowest-grade gray robe issued by the Academy.
The robe had exactly one advantage.
It was breathable.
Beyond that, it offered absolutely no protection.
Just as he was preparing to head to the infirmary to deal with the wound, a suspicious-looking figure quietly approached him.
Patches.
“My friend, one look at you and I can tell you have exceptional bones and the aura of a true warrior! Clearly, you’re one of the finest battlemages among us!”
Patches wore his trademark flattering smile.
“Get lost, scammer.”
The apprentice answered irritably.
Patches’ “achievements” around the Academy over the past few days had already become common knowledge.
“Now, now, no need to be like that!”
Patches did not get angry.
Instead, he pulled out a robe from behind his back.
It was the blue robe Roderika had modified.
“Look at what you’re wearing! It’s practically falling apart!”
“Come on, try this one!”
“No runes required. Consider it a gift between friends!”
The apprentice originally wanted to refuse.
But when his eyes landed on the robe, he paused.
The material clearly looked much better than the robe he was wearing.
And the design was rather unusual.
“…You really don’t want money?”
He remained suspicious.
“Of course not! When has Patches ever lied to anyone?”
Patches slapped his chest confidently.
The apprentice hesitated for a moment.
In the end, he accepted the robe.
He entered the changing room.
A short while later, he came back out.
It actually fit him quite well.
The firm standing collar made him look noticeably sharper.
And the silver embroidery along the hem reflected a subtle, luxurious glow beneath the light coming through the classroom skylight.
“Well?”
Patches leaned closer, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Feels different, doesn’t it?”
“…Not bad.”
That was what the apprentice said.
But the satisfaction in his eyes was impossible to hide.
At that moment, the companion he had been sparring with earlier walked over.
“Rested enough? Let’s go again!”
As he spoke, he raised his thrusting sword and stabbed toward the apprentice.
The apprentice instinctively tried to dodge.
Too late.
“Damn!”
His partner was startled as well.
He had not expected that he might seriously injure his classmate.
Then—
Clang!
A sharp metallic sound rang out.
The instant the sword tip touched the chest of the robe, it was actually deflected.
The apprentice lowered his head.
A layer of gray, rock-like texture had appeared across the surface of the robe.
It flashed once, then vanished as if it had never existed.
Both he and his sparring partner froze.
“What… what was that?”
He touched his chest in disbelief.
“Heh heh…”
Patches’ laughter sounded at exactly the right moment.
“My friend…”
He grinned.
“So, what do you think of my clothes now?”