by Nikita Thorn
The girl laughed. “Talk to me when you max Calligraphy!” she turned to say before dashing off onto the stone path.
Kentaro turned his attention back to his friends and gestured towards the entrance of the building. The look of pride on his face reminded Seiki of a particular bandit when he was introducing his beloved hidden clan hall, although it was arguable that the Crafters’ Guild was more hidden by the general lack of interest in Trade Skills. “Shall we?”
“Shoes off, seriously?” said Yamura as he noticed the wooden rack in front of the clan hall.
Seiki was not surprised that the clan required everyone to remove their shoes before entering. After all, a clan that valued high-level crafted footwear would never miss out on the chance to put them on display. On the wooden shoe rack were about ten pairs of assorted crafted clogs, sandals, woven leather shoes, as well as Western-style military boots. One delicate-looking pair of pink silk sandals turned out to have a whopping +62 defense, and Seiki had no doubt there were powerful enchantments on them.
He stepped through the doorway into a small reception area, used as storage for umbrellas, and was greeted by an unexpected notification:
You have entered a Customized Zone within the Crafters’ Guild Heiwa Residence. Custom combat rules apply. Post status: disabled. PVP status: disabled.
“Okay, and post disabled?” said Yamura in disbelief. “What’s with you people?”
Mairin giggled. “The Crafters guard their secret recipes very strictly. They think there might be a bunch of ryoushi spies hiding outside, ready to spray their pigeons with Rapid Shots and steal their recipe for some long-winded pottery bowl no one really cares about.”
Kentaro smiled. “You forget that someone once started a siege over a Pottery Scroll. But, no. You can always step outside into the garden to send and receive mail.”
“Why?” said Ippei. “Bad cell reception inside?”
“No. You don’t want to be distracted when you’re handling things like Toeri Silk or Komisaki Clay.” The houshi obviously did not expect any of them to understand what he meant, since he went on to explain. “If you see how much highly sought-after Crafters get pestered by potential customers, you’ll agree it’s a good idea not to have hordes of pigeons constantly pecking on your window.”
From the reception area, there was another open doorway that led into the main building. The interior of the Crafters’ Guild was spacious, but simple, and entirely covered with firm, high-quality tatami flooring. The main hall was divided by a painted folding panel into the front and back. The former served as a lobby, with several low tables surrounded by different types of cushions and legless floor chairs. Behind the divider was a library, with wooden pigeon-hole shelves lining all three walls.
The two wings flanking the main hall were raised about half a foot higher, and were divided into smaller rooms with shoji doors, all facing inward. Overall, everything was perfectly symmetrical, orderly, and empty. If any of the ten clan members who had left their impressive footwear out the front door was inside, Seiki could not guess where they could possibly be.
“Wow, this place is dead,” said Mairin. “Where’s everybody?”
“Most likely off fighting one of your demonic spiders.” Kentaro chuckled as he led them to the right-hand wing. Seiki followed, letting his gaze linger on the shelves of scrolls at the back of the hall for a moment to gauge their number. His quick tally came up to at least a thousand, and he wondered if there were that many different crafting recipes in the game to start with.
Their destination was the room nearest to the front entrance. It was the size of a meeting room and looked like one, with nothing in it but a wooden cabinet against one wall, two vertical landscape paintings for decoration, and a square floor table in the middle. The cushions were stacked in a neat pile against the side of the cabinet, and Kentaro grabbed them and casually set them around the table. He pointed to the one on the other side of the table, facing the door. “Leave that seat at the far end for me please. And let’s keep the door area clear.”
As they sat down, the reason for the raised platform became apparent. There was a recess under the table with plenty of legroom, which Yamura seemed quite happy to discover.
“So, you’ve got the unique?” said Ippei as soon as Kentaro slid the door shut.
“Naturally.” Kentaro smiled as he made his way to his seat. “It will be delivered very soon. We have a special relationship with the Society, you know. By ‘we’ I mean the Crafters’ Guild.”
Seiki blinked. “It’s that easy?”
“Well, there are slight caveats, of course,” Kentaro clarified, although he did not seem that concerned. “But first, the raw materials. Here, one strip of course cotton cloth and one bottle of red dye.”
He retrieved the items out of his sleeve, then dropped them casually onto his lap, before producing another item.
“Sumi Ink.” Kentaro placed a black stick about the size of his thumb on the table in front of him. “And, Scarlet Ink, and Peafowl-Stone Ink.” He put down similar items, red and green ink sticks with golden engravings, next to the original black. “And these, of course.” Several ceramic ink dishes followed, and a Calligraphy brush.
Yamura frowned. “Why do we need brushes?”
Kentaro gave him a look that Seiki could not quite interpret. “Obviously because—”
The door sliding open interrupted him. It was a young woman in a bright yellow kimono, labeled Irumi of the Crafters’ Guild [Level 24]. Her hair was held up by a large half-circle decorative pin, and cradled in her arm was a lacquered wooden box.
She seemed startled by the number of people in the room. “Oh, uh, well...” She flashed Kentaro a smile as she recovered. “I’ve never seen such supportive friends… or sumi-e enthusiasts. And, hello, Seiki.”
“This is Irumi, our clan secretary,” said Kentaro. “She keeps all our recipe lists organized.”
The woman looked incredibly familiar, and Seiki searched his memory for a clue. As she carefully set down the box on the table, he finally remembered where he had seen her before, or at least other versions of her. “You’re—”
“I’m Irumi,” said the young woman. Despite her businesslike tone, there was a hint of laughter in her eyes. “If you’re looking for either one of my six sisters, I’m not her.”
Seiki opened his mouth, but was not quite sure how to argue. “But you’re… all the same person.”
“Septuplets.” Irumi nodded earnestly. “Very rare, I know.”
“Oh, I see,” said Seiki, suddenly realizing something that perhaps should have been obvious a long time ago. Now at least one thing was clear. One of Irumi’s so-called sisters was Ikumi of the Shinshioka Scientific Society, who was one of the higher-ranking members of the clan. “That’s the connection. That’s why—” Perhaps he had meant to say that was why the Society knew so much, especially if one of their members was also a member of everything else, but he could see no easy way to explain.
Kentaro raised an eyebrow. “What connection?”
“She’s part of this group of…”
“Septuplets,” said Irumi.
“Septuplets,” Seiki gave in. “So, uh, they’re almost identical and their names all start with an ‘I’, like Irumi, uh, Ikumi…” He was not quite sure what the other ones were called and only recalled that she was a bard or performer of some sort. “That’s why she’s… everywhere.”
Irumi stifled a laugh, and Kentaro glanced from Seiki to his Crafters’ Guild clan mate, looking completely lost. “Excuse me. Who?”
Mairin’s jaw dropped. “Okay, you’re that musician person we saw out in Manuka Village.”
“Mannaka,” said Ippei.
Irumi grinned. “Oh, yes, that would be Ibumi, one of my sisters. She loves travel. I’ve got six of them, you know. It’s quite annoying sometimes.” She turned to look at Seiki when she said it, and he was not sure if she was actively breaking charact
er for a joke.
“But let’s not waste our time, shall we?” She knelt down on the nearest seat and carefully placed the box she was carrying on the table. “The Society needs this back for their exhibit or Kazuki is going to kill me, and I’ve got so many Festival quests to assign, if anyone would actually bother checking in for once for their clan quests and not get caught up in their shopping spree.”
“I did mine,” said Kentaro. “And, like I’ve said, I’m happy to do a few extra ones.”
Irumi nodded. “Yes, you did. You’re always very reliable. Thanks for that.” She then smiled. “So, this thing as promised.”
To refer to it as a thing was an understatement, and everyone unconsciously held their breath as she removed the lid from the lacquered box. The weapon was wrapped in another layer of yellowish leather, and she gently lifted it, wrapping included, with both hands and set it down in the middle of the table.
“The Needle of the Weaving Princess,” Irumi announced with the same unconscious reverence everyone used when handling unique weapons. Carefully but skillfully, she undid the protective wrap.
Sitting on the yellow leather was a very slim blade, three quarters of a foot, perfectly straight, double-edged, and gleaming white-silver. It came without a sheath. The hilt was intricately woven over with very dark blue silk threads, which ended in a tiny decorative cloth amulet hanging off the end, a white bird with its wings spread against a background of blue.
Silence fell as she slid it across the table toward Kentaro, and Seiki took the chance to inspect it:
Orihime no Hari [unique]. +2 attack +3 speed. Effect: grants 2 temporary levels in all Trade Skills already unlocked by the user as long as the user has the weapon equipped. Enchantment: Virtue of Economy – crafters may occasionally use less materials than the recipe calls for. Enchantment: High Chamberlain Igaki’s Noble Blessing – doubles the chance of proccing Tenjonoma-grade crafted items. Enchantment: Meditative Calm – adds an additional 10% precision rate for all Trade Skills. Additional Charm Slot: Niwatori Plume – adds an additional 10% chance of proccing the starting quest of an undiscovered recipe.
It must have been the first time Kentaro had seen it, and the houshi studied it for a moment, before removing his secondary weapon, a small fan, from his obi and placing it on the floor beside him. He made no attempt to reach for the unique dagger, and Seiki wondered if that was part of the safety rule. There was no need to physically equip the dagger to benefit from its effect, and so Kentaro made some mental selections to switch out his secondary weapons, while the unique remained on its leather wrap on display in the middle of the table.
Yamura finally broke the silence, a slight scowl on his face. “Okay, why do all uniques have crap stats?”
Irumi chuckled but did not seem to mind. “The point is not the stats.”
“Impressive enchants, though,” said Ippei.
Seiki agreed with his friend. From the little he knew about the Enchanting Trade Skill, multiple enchantments needed to be balanced with additional materials during the process before they could coexist on a piece of gear. Difficulty level went up with the quality of the enchantments. He had never seen anything with more than two.
Mairin was certainly interested. “How many tries did it take you to get all four on it?”
The question seemed to please Irumi, who beamed. “Quite a few. It was a joint effort, by us and the Society.”
Seiki thought she had every right to be proud. It was not simply four, but most likely four of the correct enchantments, all of which benefited crafting. Since most of them had specific names, Seiki had no doubt they were also rare.
“Failed enchants explode and kill you, right?” said Yamura.
“The frontiers of magic are more dangerous than your war fronts,” said Irumi. “And failure is much more costly, like, literally.”
Seiki had heard the stories. Enchantment accidents were often lethal to the crafter and had a chance to destroy all materials and scrolls used in the process, as well as the piece of equipment the enchantment was supposed to go on. There was actually a simple way around it: equipped gear could never be completely destroyed, and so this was how everybody did it. It meant that the customer had to also be within the room with the enchanter, and so a failed attempt would mean an annoying run back from the clan’s spirit room for both parties, plus an extremely damaged piece of gear. That was why most people stuck with tried and true combinations, a slowly-expanding list collected by the Crafters’ Guild which was available to all its members.
“And that’s why our Enchant room has enforced panels.” Irumi laughed. “Plus, soundproof seals, just to block all the constant cursing.”
Yamura glanced around idly. “What about this one?”
Irumi smiled. “Isn’t it obvious?” She nodded towards the two art scrolls hanging on the wall as if they were meant to signify something important. All Seiki saw was that they were both created by someone called Tayuki of the Crafters’ Guild.
“Nothing explodes with Calligraphy, so we focus on additional Precision benefits and soundproofing for silence. Sumi-e can be unforgiving.” She then turned to ask Kentaro. “To be honest, I’m not sure if you want all your friends here when you’re going for something as important as a qualifying piece?”
The houshi had now spread a sheet of white silk in front of him, and was gently rubbing the ink stick against the bottom of one of the ceramic dishes.
Seiki blinked as he saw Kentaro lining up brushes of different sizes on a wooden holder. “You’re going for…” The houshi glanced up at him with a look, and it suddenly struck Seiki why the real Tailoring ingredients were on his lap under the table. “Oh, uh, right, that Calligraphy piece.”
“Oh,” said Mairin.
“Right,” said Ippei, his eyes widening.
Yamura whipped his head around to stare at Kentaro. “What do you mean Calligraphy? I thought we were here to make that Red—”
“Yeah, of course,” Ippei interrupted him. “We’re making that red…”
“Red Pine…” said Mairin.
“You mean Red Pine for Woodblock Printing?” Kentaro smoothly interjected. “Oh, no, uh, well…” He paused to clear his throat. “That’s a cross-discipline art and requires both the Painting branch of Calligraphy and Woodcrafting. And you actually can’t use Red Pine blocks for that.”
Irumi gave the whole room a wary glance.
“Oh, you can’t?” Mairin piped up, before the silence turned any more suspicious. “And here I thought we could, like, you know, use Seiki’s Red Pine Woodblocks, since… you must have lots of those, right?”
“Right.” Seiki had not expected the conversation to turn back to him. He glanced at Irumi again, who now looked a little confused, as his mind raced for something to say. “I’ve got plenty of Red Pine. Maybe about forty of them. But if Red Pine doesn’t work, I’ve got other kinds of wood, too, like, Black Pine and Cedar, and… uh, Magnolia. Well, I don’t have Cypress yet.” It was all he could do not to cringe at that point.
Yamura looked back and forth between his friends. “Okay, did I miss—” He stopped short as he caught Ippei glaring at him.
The ryoushi’s eyes widened. “Misunderstand that you can totally use Red Pine Woodblocks for printing? So you’re telling me you can’t? That sucks. Man, who would have thought?” He let out another expletive to express the degree of his disappointment.
Irumi stared at them. Mairin secretly winced, and Kentaro added quickly, with a forced laugh. “Well, good thing I changed my mind about printing and am going for sumi-e instead, right?”
“Right! So this is a qualifying piece then?” Mairin jumped at the chance. Seiki had a feeling the kitsune had no idea what a qualifying piece actually meant.
“Yes, Sumi-e Painting opens up at Level 29, and my Calligraphy is at 27,” said Kentaro. “But once you have it unlocked, you can start gathering the recipes and the correct inks also start to drop for y
ou.” He smiled at Irumi. “So, I guess I’d better get going.” He hastily dipped his brush into the black ink.
“Wait, okay…” The Crafters’ Guild secretary held up her hands and her head, perhaps as she realized their conversation made absolutely no sense. “Why are you—”
“Irumi, I need some Woodcrafting advice,” Seiki blurted out.
The young woman blinked. “Uh, what?”
“Can you make wearable masks with Woodcrafting?” asked Seiki, more seriously than he had expected to.
It took her by surprise. Perhaps because she could sense the honest urgency in his tone or perhaps because being a high-ranking member of the most prominent crafters’ clan made answering craft-related questions irresistible, that captured her attention. “Player-crafted masks? That’s a rare field of Woodcrafting.” Her eyes narrowed again. “Why?”
Seiki’s desperate flash of inspiration had not prepared an answer for that. “Because I… like them.”
He knew he was a terrible liar. Amusement was growing in Irumi’s eyes. “So… you like them, huh?”
“Yes,” said Seiki. “My favorite thing.”
Across the table, Mairin gave him a strange look, and Ippei seemed to be trying not to choke on suppressed laughter.
“Well…” Irumi chuckled. “If that’s the case, maybe get back to me when your Woodcrafting isn’t at Level Zero?” There was no way she could have seen what level he was at, but it was not difficult to guess. “You see, Seiki. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but our documents are only available to our members or exceptionally skilled crafters.”
“Okay, fine.” Ippei let out a resigned grunt. “I’m a Woodcrafter.”
Irumi turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “Really now? What Level?”
Ippei looked at her. “Thirteen.”
Any Trade Skill under Level 20 was looked down upon by the Crafters’ Guild, but Ippei’s unapologetic tone seemed to have done the trick.
Irumi’s eyebrow raised even further, a playful smirk creeping up on the corner of her lips. “Prove it.”
She reached into her chest pocket and produced two kiri woodblocks, which she placed on the table. “Engraved Kiri Fan Box. And in case you need this.” Irumi lay a woodcarving knife down next to the materials.