Jack trudged through the city, every muscle protesting from the previous day’s chaos. His bloodied pack was slung over one shoulder. It bulged with the rogue’s spoils—armour, gambeson, cloak, gloves, and the rogue’s own pack—all in urgent need of professional cleaning.

  “Ow,” he muttered, hobbling with each step. He paused at the entrance of the nearest reputable washhouse, its weathered stone facade streaked with decades of aether-steam stains. Vapour drifted from the open doorway, carrying the mingled scents of soap, lye, and hot water. Jack braced himself against the ache in his side and limped inside.

  “How can I help ye, lad?” asked the old dwarven woman at the counter.

  Jack managed a tired smile. “I need all this cleaned, please.” He tipped the contents of his pack out. “How much?”

  The old dwarf raised an eyebrow at the bloody mess. “Did ya strip a corpse, lad?” she asked, half-joking, though her eyes betrayed her curiosity.

  Jack chuckled. “No, some bugger shot me in the forest with an arrow, and planned to strip my corpse for shits and giggles,” he said, pulling back his shirt to reveal the fresh scar. “Now all my gear’s covered in blood, and I’m no longer beach body ready!”

  It was almost a credible tale… if one didn’t look too close at the two blood-soaked packs, the armour and gloves that wouldn’t fit him, or the glaring inconsistency between his scars and the placement of the holes. Plausible enough, perhaps, to a half-blind old dwarven woman in the late stages of dementia.

  The old dwarven woman—who was not half-blind and in control of all her mental faculties—pulled a piece of lint from the counter, rolled it between her fingers and said, “Aye, that’ll happen to ye lad, in a world such as ours.” She looked at the bloody items again and then at Jack. “I hope ya got the bastard?” she said with a grin, before she began sorting through the items.

  “Hmm. No. He got away,” Jack lied while trying not to look guilty.

  The old dwarf burst out laughing. “Sure, he did. Let’s hope yer next forest assassin wears clothes in yar size, hey lad.” She tapped her nose and continued to check the soiled and damaged gear with a trained eye.

  Jack’s eyes widened in panic. Fuck! She knows. He looked at the door and considered running.

  The old dwarf poked a stubby, gnarled finger through one of the holes in the leather armour and chuckled. “Do ye want the bags cleanin’, too?”

  Jack, still wide-eyed, nodded. Should I run?

  “Then, that’ll be 1 silver and 20 coppers to clean the lot,” she said, stroking her plaited beard. “We can patch up the holes for 50 coppers, lad,” she added. “It’ll be like it never happened.” Her smile was almost conspiratorial.

  Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Thank the Gods, she doesn’t care that I killed someone.

  The old dwarven woman waved the bloody gloves in front of Jack’s face. “Are ye still with me, lad?” she asked while grinning.

  Jack nodded.

  She shook her head. “1 silver 70 coppers including repairs.” She raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer. “What’ll it be?”

  He recovered from his panic and riffled through his coins. “Make it 1 silver and 50 coppers, and we’ve got a deal.” He kept looking down at his purse so as not to meet her eyes. After adding the coin looted from the dead rogue, he had just over 13 silvers; his father always said that even a nobleman should haggle for a bargain.

  The dwarven woman laughed, a dry, throaty chuckle. “Awe, ain’t ye a darling. I’m happy to negotiate with ya, lad… all night long, if ya like.” She gave him a playful, teasing wink. “For a cutie like ya, I’ll give ye me special price of 5 silvers and a little of me time.”

  Jack looked scared. “Erm, no thank you, that will be okay… the price seems fine” He pulled out 1 silver and 70 coppers without further complaint. “How long?” he asked while offering payment.

  “Oh, I dunno? How long does it normally take a strapping young man such as ye?” she said, bunching up her breasts in a provocative way.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Jack’s jaw fell open, and he dropped some of his coins on the counter. They rattled like his thoughts. “2 silvers, I’ll give you 2 silvers,” he said in a panic, trying to gather his dropped coins.

  “That’s a bit cheap for the experience of a mature woman such as me self, the going rate is 10 silvers at least, for a gorgeous woman such as me,” she said, pouting her lips and fluttering her eyelids as she played with her beard plait.

  “No, no, I meant 2 silvers for the cleaning,” Jack said, flustered.

  “Well, I had a bath this morning, but if cleaning me’s your thing… hmm… I’ll do it for 20 silvers,” she said, leaning over the counter towards him with a mischievous grin.

  The dwarven woman hollered with laughter as Jack backed away with both hands raised.

  “Suit yeself, lad,” she grinned in amusement. “I ‘ave a nice new eiderdown, I could’a shown ya.”

  Jack laughed. “That sounds like something you would spend the night showing my mother, not me.”

  “You’re right, we wouldn’t spend much time admiring my bedlinens, nah, would we?” She gave him an overexaggerated wink. “You know what I blame it on, dun’t ya?” she added. “Ye young folk, dun’t got no taste for adventure, that’s what it is.”

  Jack laughed as he considered just how adventurous his previous day had been.

  He’d had an orphan who’d tried to steal from him move in.

  He’d been attacked by a vicious goblin and had to escape from murderous adventurers by hiding in a hole with a warm corpse.

  And worst of all, he'd survived the embarrassment of his mother walking in on him in the bath.

  I was reborn four days ago, and I already feel like I need a holiday.

  Getting back to business, she said, “If ye’re in a rush, we can get it done for ya today for an extra 50 coppers.” Her eyebrows raised in expectation of earning extra coin.

  Jack shook his head. He wasn’t in a rush for the items.

  The old woman sighed, her tone still cheerful, “They’ll be ready this time tomorrow.” She passed him a receipt. “Don’t lose it. I’ve got a memory like a bear trap,” she tapped her temple a few times, “for people who lose receipts.”

  Jack chuckled as he stored the receipt in his coin pouch. Ready to head home, he stepped out of the washhouse when a sudden thought made him return inside.

  “Miss me already, lad?” the old woman called with a teasing grin. “I’m afraid ye’re a bit too late for the special deal; that ship has long since sailed, along with me youth.” Her chuckle held a note of mischief.

  Jack laughed in return. “I don’t suppose you have a valet uniform I could buy? For cheap.” He couldn’t keep borrowing his sister’s costume just to visit the spell scrolls shop. “It doesn’t have to be anything special.” Recalling the costume was tight around his waist, he added, “It just has to fit and look the part.”

  The dwarf gave him a long, amused look. “Uniforms now, is it? Trying to sneak into posh nobles’ parties or bedchamber meybe?” she said, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” he joked. “They have the best food.”

  “What in their beds? You’d think they’d have dining rooms for that.” The old woman’s chuckle morphed into a thoughtful frown. “We do have uncollected stuff we sell,” she explained while stroking her beard in thought. “A valet uniform, ya say… I’ll take a look. Give me a few minutes, lad. Let me take ye measurements.”

  Expecting the simple pull of a tape measure, Jack was surprised when she instead used a class skill, one he wasn’t familiar with, to take his measurements.

  “Huh, that’s efficient,” he said. I wonder if Polly will get that skill?

  “Used to be a seamstress before this wonderful job,” she replied.

  Jack sank onto a nearby chair, resting his still sore body, as she disappeared into the back.

  Five minutes later, the old dwarf returned with a small pile of clothes and dropped them on the counter. “These might work. Some’ll need tweaking, lad.”

  Jack rummaged through the pile. Nothing screamed ‘valet’, but a few items were close enough; he thought he could make them work, if they fit. “Have you got somewhere I can try these on?” he asked, while holding several items that he hoped would do.

  “Oh yes, sir,” she said, leaning on the counter with her chin in her hands, like a schoolgirl with a crush. She gestured to the spot Jack was already standing on and said, “Right there.” After Jack raised an eyebrow, she sighed, gave a theatrical pause, and pointed to a changing room. “Spoilsport.”

  Jack walked away from the dwarf, as she called, “If ya need any help, gimme a shout, lad.” She chuckled and added, “And if you need any alterations like making something bigger, I can handle that for a small fee too.”

  He shook his head as he locked the changing room door, just in case. She has to be close to a hundred years old. He chuckled.

  A few minutes later, he emerged in a convincing valet outfit, complete with a ridiculous hat perched on his head like an afterthought. “How much for these, including shortening the trousers and tightening the waist?” he asked.

  Everything fit well except for the trousers; the legs were too long and the waist a couple of inches too wide.

  “6 silvers for the lot and 50 coppers for adjustments, lad,” she said. “Are you sure ya don’t want the jacket a bit snugger? Show off those rippling muscles of yours,” she teased.

  Even though the jacket was a bit baggy, Jack rolled his eyes. “Just the trousers, please. The rest is fine.”

  The old dwarf added, “It’s an extra 50 coppers if ya need ‘em adjusted today, lad.”

  Jack shook his head at the extra fee. That’s a reasonable price. It would have cost much more from a tailor. He considered haggling, but had a feeling it would be a waste of time with the flirtatious old dwarven woman. He said, “I’ll take these, including the trouser adjustments, if that’s okay? And I’ll pick the trousers up tomorrow with the other items.”

  After changing back into his own clothes and settling the payment, Jack thought, I’m getting low on coin again. As he left the washhouse for a second time with the new valet uniform, minus the trousers, he thought about refilling his coin purse. I’ll sell some more spell scrolls tomorrow.