The Way of the Sorcerer: A 'The Wandering Inn' Fanfiction

Ivory Henderson experienced a shiver of déjà vu as he entered Belian’s Cloth Emporium. Before, he had stumbled in wanting to know where the bloody hell he was. Now, he came seeking a [Tailor]. Before Ivory could right his wrongs of not sussing out the place when he first came in, he was approached by an employee.

“Good afternoon! Can I help you with anything today?” the young lady asked.

“Hello, yes. I was looking to buy some clothes?” He felt silly asking; obviously that’s why he was here, but it was akin to calling a restaurant back home and asking “hello, I’d like to make a pick up order?” Like, duh. This, however, was a new world, and the norm might be difficult. Luckily, it wasn’t.

“Of course! Were you looking to have something custom made, or for some ready-to-wear apparel?

“Ah, not anything custom made. I’m looking for a whole new wardrobe: pants, shorts, underpants and long and short sleeved shirts.”

The [Apprentice Tailor] put her index finger over her lips and narrowed her eyes, deep in thought. After a few seconds she grinned and nodded her head.

“I’ve got it. How many of each were you after?”

“Three, please.”

“Fabulous. If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll get what you’re after.” And with that, she took off.

Ivory was a bit dumbfounded. Within the space of no more than 50 seconds, someone was just… getting the clothes he asked for. He didn’t tell her his size—if even they had a similar system to that of Earth—he figured he’d just go with the flow. The worst that could happen is something was too big/small and he’d try a few things on to check.

Since he’d been ambushed the second he entered, he now had a little bit of time to have a glance around the shop. There were no racks or shelves to be seen, which made sense to Ivory, as the first thing he was asked was if he was looking to have something custom made. Indeed, this place seemed to focus more on custom designed clothing. There were, instead, individual pieces of clothing on display: exquisite suits, dresses and jackets of different styles. Ivory was never one for high fashion, but even he admitted that he’d look fly in some of these outfits. As he was imagining himself in a pair of red leather pants, he was approached by the employee carrying a stack of clothing. She pivoted last second and put them down on a nearby table and divided them into stacks of each unit of clothing.

“Here we go. I chose fittings—that should be your size—that can still breathe a bit. Let me know what you think.”

Ivory looked down at the spread collection; she really took ‘new wardrobe’ seriously! He was completely covered: everything was a mix of casual and semi-formal wear. The colours, too! Blues, greens, blacks, whites: his favourite colours! Although, the latter two were for the formalwear. Proving that he was wisening up to this world, he gave his judgement.

“These look great, and you’ve chosen my favourite colours! Do you have a Skill for that?” he asked, unsure whether asking someone about their Skills casually was a faux pas or not.

“[Eye for Fashion]. Hasn’t let me down yet!” She looked very satisfied with herself. “If you’d like, you can try them on to see if you need any changes?”

“Yes, please, that would be good. Where are the changing rooms?”

“Our [Seamster] is free; I’ll grab these and we can head over to him.”

Ivory supposed that was the male version of a [Seamstress]. Frankly, he had no idea what the difference between a [Tailor] and a [Seamster] was.

She efficiently grabbed the clothing and the two made their way down a corridor, passing three rooms that had one to two people in each; he supposed each was a consultation room cross between workspace, which he was now heading to.

She gave a light tap on the door and opened it.

“Sam, I’ve got a gentleman here after a quick fitting?” she asked lightly. Sam, who was doing some light sewing, looked up.”

“Of course. Thank you, Philea. If you could put those down, thank you,” the man had a look at the spread of clothing, at Ivory, back at the clothing, and nodded.

“Let’s get you in each of these; the underwear shouldn’t be a problem.. There’s a privacy curtain in the corner if you’d prefer.”

Ivory wasn’t a prude, but he didn’t really want to get undressed in front of a stranger. This guy’s easily seen it all, and he felt slightly better that he was male, not female.

Deciding that it’d probably annoy the [Seamster] if he went back and changed every time—there were, after all, quite a few items of clothing—he thought fuck it.

The process was strange, if a little bit touchy. The [Seamster] seemed to be checking his measurements, except with touch, not a tape measure; he didn’t feel the least bit uncomfortable. Was that a Skill? Better not think too much about it.

His casual upperwear done—they all felt fine to Ivory—he moved onto semi-formal. When he was finished putting on his long-sleeve button up, he thought it was great. Apparently the [Seamster] disagreed.

“Ah,” as his hands were on Ivory’s sides, he felt the fabric shift slightly. What was he doing?

“Better?” he asked Ivory.

“Honestly, I don’t feel a difference. I’ll defer to your judgement, though.”

The rest of the upperwear needed no adjustments. Now that he knew that even the tiniest fitting error was being rectified, he was quite surprised that everything fit so perfectly!

The same was said for the casual pants and shorts. When Ivory put on the semi-formal pants, Ivory could tell that it was a little bit loose around the groin area. Not that he considered himself pedantic; the equivalent going-out pants he had at home had the same issue and it didn’t bother him. Now, however, when he knew the criticality of this man’s craft, things were different.

Thankfully, the way he handled issues with pants and issues with shirts were quite different. Instead of a very hands on approach, the [Seamster] lightly touched the ‘baggy’ crotch area and the fabric tightened. Instantly, Ivory felt a difference. An absolute world of a difference.

“Holy crap,” he said, “that’s incredible.”

“Few clothes that are produced en masse will fit every body type perfectly. As I sewed these clothes, I can fix the issues very easily.” He located the other pair of dress pants—clearly, Philea thought that he needed two—and performed the same alteration. As that was the final item of clothing to be appraised, he uttered a Skill.

“[Job Done: Stack, Fold, Sell]. If you’ll head back out front, Philea will be able to finalise your purchase. Good day.”

Now that was a Skill for retail. How awfully convenient!

“Thanks a lot for your help, and I just want to say that I’m extremely impressed. You are very talented!”

Sam stopped for a moment and smiled.

“That is very kind of you to say, thank you. Do have a good afternoon.” The [Seamster] gave a small bow, and Ivory returned it in kind with a nod of his head.”

Ivory returned to the front of the shop to see Philea placing all of his clothes into a bag. Nice bag, too: it read “Belian’s Cloth Emporium”, interspersed with multicoloured bolts of cloth. Ivory walked up to her, but she spoke first.

“Always gives me such a fright when he does that!” referring to the [Seamster]’s Skill.

“You guys have some seriously cool Skills, I have to say! How much do I owe you?”

“Aw, stop it. Alright, let me just look a sec… your total is 15 silver, two coppers.”

Ivory had only brought two gold pieces with him. Now’s when he would see what the exchange rate was. He pulled out his wallet and handed her a gold piece. She placed the gold piece in a small brown pouch, and went fishing around a separate pouch for his change.

“Here you are,” she handed Ivory four silver pieces and eight coppers and a large bag, “and your clothes. Thank you very much for your patronage and have a fine day!”

“Thank you very much. And please also can you give my regards to Janne? I came in yesterday and she gave me directions to my lodgings; I’m a tourist staying for an extended holiday here.” He felt it prudent; she did say to come back!

“Oh! She’s currently with a client at the moment, but I’ll certainly tell her!”

“Thanks a lot. See ya.”

As Ivory exited the establishment, his stomach rumbled rather violently. Bloody starving. He endeavoured to head back to The Woolen Pillow to change before he went to find food elsewhere. As he was walking back, he thought upon his funds. He now had… nine gold, four silver and two copper. That meant that 20 silver made up one gold, and ten copper to a silver? Pretty convenient. He wondered if the actual metal content mattered to the worth; he remembered learning that in ancient societies, the value of coinage was based on its metal content. Either way: he was, functionally, down 10% of his money. He wasn’t sure whether clothing was uber cheap, or that ten gold was a lot. If he had purchased these clothes from home, he might have paid upwards like… $400? $500? Depending on where he went; a nice pair of dress pants set Ivory back $110 back home.

Arriving back at The Woolen Pillow, he changed into some of his new clothes. He had time to appreciate how nice the clothes actually were. He removed the now dry towel from the back of the chair and put his dirty clothes on it. He debated also whether to put another gold piece in his wallet; no, probably overkill. If a whole lotta clothes didn’t cost a gold piece, he would be right for smaller purchases.

As he walked down the stairs, he considered just dining in, but he truly was curious to explore the city. Well, explore the Eternal Promenade first, then figure out the rest of the city. He recalled a cafe; he decided he’d head there. He hoped there was coffee in this world.

As he backtracked up the street, he checked out the shops in greater detail; now that he could actually read the signs, it was a lot easier. Few interested him, as they were rather mundane. No, that wasn’t fair: they were shops that would have fit in back on Earth. Furniture shops, a fine China shop—although he doubted that it was called that here—and, quite interestingly, a hair salon. A [Stylist] or [Hairdresser] would likely be very shocked indeed that a ‘day at the salon’ took hours on Earth!

Eventually, Ivory reached the place he had earmarked as a cafe and was caught unaware of the signage: Golden Tonics! Specifically, Golden Tonics Snackery. Wasn’t that the alchemy shop? His question was answered as he looked to his left, to see a sign on the adjoining building: Golden Tonics. Buy your potions, and then get a bite to eat afterwards: an innovative business model, and one that appealed greatly to Ivory. Actually, magic potions and elixirs appealed more to him: that’s the stuff magic is made of—figuratively and literally, in this case.

He entered The Golden Tonics and was instantly assailed by a smell. It wasn’t an offensive smell, but it certainly was unique: herby, earthy and smoky. All things considered, it was really quite appropriate. The interior of the place looked exactly how he expected it to be. Wooden shelves housing fancy bottles of various coloured liquids, exotic (and terribly mundane) plants, and just generally the atmosphere of a typical alchemist’s playground.

Ivory was the only person currently in the shop; he supposed that when you went into a place like this, you know what you want, buy it, and get out. Plus, he was certain that some of these brews would set you back a fortune. It was time for some good old window shopping.

Ivory’s first stop was a neat section of short shelves, with each row containing a descriptive plaque above each. The first read “Adventuring” and contained the following: a healing potion, mana potion, stamina potion, resistance potion and a potion of celerity. The second row’s plaque read “For the Home”, whatever that meant. There were seven potions: an anti-anxiety draft, sleeping potion, potion of calm, a sobering tonic—

“Hello! Having a look around, are you? See anything that interests you?” a spritely voice chimed. Ivory turned around to see an elderly woman in what could only be described as a bright red alchemy attire: a big coat with stains on it, with a hell of a lot of pockets. This was likely the proprietor.

“Hey there, yeah just having a look around. My village doesn’t have an [Alchemist], so this is the first time seeing so many potions!” A convenient excuse: not only did it excuse ignorance, it would hopefully prompt some detailed explanations.

“Oh, how exciting this must be for you, my love! Tell me, from where do you hail?”

“A tiny village, you likely haven’t heard of it,” this lady was too nice; he needed to change the subject before she insisted on knowing the name. “I’m staying at The Woolen Pillow at the moment, though. I arrived in Calanfer yesterday.”

“You are in good hands, then! Rex is a lovely sort. He’ll treat you well.”

“That’s good to know, I’m liking it a lot so far.” The owner of Golden Tonics smiled at his response.

“I’m Ivory, by the way. Would you recommend anything for a [Sorcerer]? Maybe something for my magic? My knowledge of alchemical potions is pretty limited.”

“A [Sorcerer]! A rarity in Calanfer. My name is Gurd. Unfortunately, I specialise in the remedial and medicinal, not magical. Have you a healthy supply of mana potions? That’s the most I can offer you in that regard, Ivory.”

“Funnily enough, I have a mana potion from you: it was given to me by Mannus Lan, who owns The Esoterica?” Gurd nodded.

“Mana potions are one of the few recipes that I have failed to make palatable, to my regret. However, you should not be under the impression that [Alchemists]—or [Apothecaries] in my case—cater to specific Classes. Anyone can make use of a sleeping potion or congestion potions, from [Kings] to [Guards]. Your health should be your highest priority!”

“I agree, definitely. The mana potion that I had looks different to the one on the shelf here; it was a lot lighter in colour. Do you have any of those in stock?”

“Of course! My best selling products are on display; the mana potion here is a standard strength one. The mana potion you were given is quite weak, would you like me to get some for you, my darling?”

“Yes, please. How much are they?”

“1 silver, two coppers each. I’ll bring a few out of storage, please excuse me a moment.”

Ivory liked Gurd. She had that loving, grandmotherly charm that was all too welcome. He liked equally as much the price of those mana potions, mainly because each potion was essentially three ‘servings’, and potentially even more if he would drink them when he wasn’t completely dry.

He didn’t feel pressured by the sheer magnitude of potions on offer; he could always just come back and buy whatever he needed when he needed it. That being said, just like some basic medicine back home, it was always good to have a few things on hand. He spotted a few things that looked to fulfil some of those requirements. Gurd reappeared with a small crate of mana potions, which she placed in a vacant area under the front counter. Ivory approached her.

“Gurd, can I please get one stamina potion, two healing potions and five mana potions?” If they turned out to be too expensive, he could always just go and get more money. He figured that healing potions were mandatory for anyone living in this world, and the same for stamina potions.

“Of course you may. I’ll just get them for you,” Gurd knelt down and procured his potions from underneath the counter. “A drop of healing potion onto the affected areas will suffice for minor cuts and bruises. Drink the potion in the case of an emergency. Do not apply any healing potion if you are sick or have an ailment; seek a [Healer] instead, or come to me and I can prescribe something for you.” Ivory nodded.

“Take a drop of stamina potion in your morning beverage—it’s sweet, so I recommend a juice, but never milk—to help wake up and get a good start to your day. Take a sip if you need a boost of energy. However, it is natural to be tired and exhausted. Don’t imbibe if you don’t absolutely need it.” Gurd started bagging his potions.

“That will be one gold, five silver and five coppers, my love.”

Ivory ‘s face dropped. He was just short!

“Oh… how much are the healing and stamina potions?”

“Healing potions are eight silver each, and stamina four silver.”

“I think I will just take one healing potion, then, please.”

“Wise boy. I was surprised that you wanted two! Unless you are an adventurer or work in the line of duty, one healing potion will last you quite a while. Your new total is 17 silver, five coppers.”

Ivory took out his wallet and handed Gurd a gold piece, receiving two silver and five coppers in return.

“I've put those potions in a bag for you, and I’ve thrown in a small vial of sleeping potion for you. Pour half into a beverage if you cannot sleep, otherwise one drop if you wish to accelerate the process. I’m sure The Eternal Throne will take some getting used to, so it’s my pleasure.” Gurd handed Ivory his purchases with a great smile of sincerity.

“Oh, that is very thoughtful, thank you. Can I just ask, though, about next door? You own it as well?”

“Yes, that is correct! A few years ago I sponsored a young [Baker], and he’s grown it into his own bustling little eatery. Rex’s food is delicious, but our pastries are simply divine.” Yum. Bread!

“Perfect, I need lunch! Thanks again, Gurd. Have a good day.

“And the same to you, sweetheart!”

What a nice woman. An equally as nice shop, too. Alchemy didn’t really interest Ivory; he didn’t have the patience for science or maths, and even if had an [Alchemist]’s Skills, he doubted he’d enjoy it. Regardless: Golden Tonics would be an important place he would need to shop from—if infrequent.

Ivory exited Golden Tonics and made his way into its snackery. An interesting name, to be sure.

Similar to its alchemical sister-shop, as he entered he was instantly assailed by a powerful smell. This time, however, it was heavenly. It was freshly baked bread, creams, warm… it was captivating, almost. Not that Ivory needed any convincing, nor the other people in here: the place was quite busy!

Back home, Ivory’s favourite kinds of bakeries were the Japanese ones, where you would grab a tray and tongs and just take wherever you wanted from little pigeonholes of baked goods, and pay afterwards. The Snackery—as Ivory was now calling it—was similar: there was a modest selection that you could take to the counter, but you could also buy some pastries to order. Specifically, the ‘larger’ pastries, as opposed to little cookies and mini-pastries that were made at the start of the day and placed in the front of the shop.

Whilst waiting in line, Ivory noticed that most people were buying a combination of two options. He felt a slight pinch of FOMO, but he’d deal with it—he was opting only for a super-fresh pastry, this time. It was Ivory’s turn to order.

“What can I get you?”

“Hey, can I get two sweet cream twistbreads and a… pink bubbles drink?”

“Of course. Four silver and five coppers,” Ivory handed the coinage. “Great. We’ll bring it out to you soon, if you’ll take a seat?”

“Thank you!”

Ivory sat at a charming little table-for-one, one of the few available seats. He was curious to find out what twistbread and pink bubbles were. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long to find out.

“Here we are.” The same man who had served him placed his food and drink on the table. He looked to be around his age, maybe even younger. These were croissants! Big, flakey croissants which had been infused with cream. The drink just looked like pink water, though.

“Thanks a lot. Just wondering, what exactly is this drink?” Ivory asked, hoping he didn’t sound like a ditz by asking what the product he had paid for was. The man just smiled.

“Try it and see what you think. It’s guava flavoured!”

That didn’t really inspire confidence. It was a liquid with no real properties other than it being a light shade of pink, with no bubbles, despite the name. Ivory took a sip. Guess that’s why it’s called ‘bubbles’.

“Oh. It’s carbonated water. Tasty.” The man had a mix of emotions on his face. He looked to be pleased that he liked it, but also slightly disappointed that he didn’t have the rather visceral reaction that people had the first time they tried carbonated water, thinking it was still.

“That’s what Granny G called it. It’s been the biggest hit since she cooked it up a few months ago.” That’s alchemy, for ya.

“You mean Gurd, right? Are you related to her?”

“Nah, she’s a friend. She likes to experiment with making her tinctures and tonics nicer to taste, and this was something that she started using. I’m her guinea pig sometimes, and I liked the taste, so I put it on the menu.” Oh. Was he the sponsor kid? He’s the owner! He decided not to make a fuss about it.

“That’s really cool, actually. I love sparkling water-that’s what my, err, village calls it.”

“Aww, that’s a way better name than bubbles. I had no idea what to call it; ‘carbonated water’ doesn’t really roll off the tongue. I’ll have to steal that, if you’d not mind?”

“Oh, no, not at all. Steal away.” He looked elated!

“I’m Mark, by the way. I’ll leave you to your food!

“Ivory. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

Why was everyone in this damn city so nice? Sure, there was that lady from before, but that was his fault.

Quite hungry at this point, Ivory smashed the two croissants. The French would love this place.

Feeling quite full—perhaps just one, next time—he waved to the front counter and waddled his way to the next stop: The Mage’s Guild.