Tallow pointed to a sample swatch. Jack ran his fingers over the fabric; it was cool, almost alive in his hands. “It feels… extraordinary.” He’d forgotten how good it felt.

  “It is,” Tallow agreed. “But invisible to the untrained eye. Only you will know it carries aether-woven comfort.” He continued, “This is a hard-wearing fabric, perfect for an industrious scribe.”

  Jack nodded. He’d worn the suit for over four years with no signs of wear and tear.

  Thorn appeared with a steaming pot of tea and two delicate china cups on a polished tray. “Care for a cup, Jack?” he offered. Receiving a nod, he poured the amber liquid into Jack’s cup. “This is Marives Amberleaf.”

  “Thank you.” Jack lifted the cup, and the warm porcelain pressed against his palm. I used to drink this all the time at the Library. He drew in the tea’s gentle aroma: a rich blend of sun-ripened amberleaf with a whisper of toasted barley, underscored by a subtle honeyed warmth and a faint, almost smoky edge… like embers glowing in a snug hearth. As the steam curled upwards, hints of crushed mint and toasted nuts drifted to his nose.

  He took a sip. The first taste was smooth and mellow, a soft sweetness dancing on his tongue before giving way to a gentle acidic undertone that brightened the finish. Warmth from the tannins spread through his chest, reassuring and steady, as a delicate afterglow of honey and malt lingered on his palate. The tea felt like a welcome companion, encouraging yet refined.

  “Wonderful,” Jack murmured, closing his eyes for a moment to savour the flavour. He could feel the warmth radiate down his throat, easing the tension in his shoulders. I’ve missed this. At the Royal Library, they had an extensive collection of teas; he’d been an avid tea drinker, but after the fire… Cheap ale.

  Thorn beamed. “Delighted you approve. A good cup of Marives Amberleaf clears the mind before the day’s work.”

  “I hear they let the amberleaf leaves dry in the sun on barley mats to achieve the rich flavour,” Jack said. He’d read multiple books on tea in his past life, and he’d used his [Perfect Recall] skill to access the relevant information regarding the production of Marives Amberleaf tea.

  The old man’s smile widened. “So few young people these days appreciate a fine tea. It’s good to see your father has instilled in you respect for tradition.” He withdrew, leaving Jack to enjoy the final sips.

  Tallow resumed measuring as Jack finished his tea, the comforting taste and soothing aroma steadying his nerves for the fittings ahead.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Next, Tallow draped a half-finished waistcoat about Jack’s torso. “Silken weave in matching dark grey, double-breasted, jet buttons. This will sit snug at your waist, creating a clean line beneath the jacket. The buttons can, of course, be replaced with magical protections… We have a partner shop which supplies the relevant rune-enchanted buttons.”

  Jack nodded. “For now. Just the standard buttons.” He recalled the protections Greaves had on his waistcoat. I should save coin for at least the basic protections.

  With enough coin, a man could shield himself from every common mage spell. Each rune-etched button carried a single enchantment, absorbing one spell before its magic guttered out. Nobles rarely left their estates without at least a ward against [Fireball] or [Frost Breath]. The wealthier—and more paranoid—might wear layers of them, enough to shrug off volley after volley of burning flame or freezing breath before a single wound was struck.

  “Their business card,” Tallow said, while placing a black embossed card on the table for Jack to collect later.

  Jack inclined his head as Tallow clipped on a measuring tape. “And the trousers?”

  “Slim cut. Straight from waist to ankle, with a four-centimetre break above the boot heel. A longer hem risks scuffing; a shorter one looks ungainly. For material, the same worsted wool, but with a fine blend of Merciar cotton for comfort.”

  Jack nodded while finishing his tea. Those trousers were really comfortable.

  “Next,” Tallow said, “we come to shoes.” He retrieved a pair of pressed leather brogues in deep slate-grey from beneath the counter. “These are constructed on a flexible sole with aether-lined insoles to cushion long hours of standing. Please step forward.”

  Jack slipped his feet into the brogues. “Impressive,” he murmured as Tallow laced them and adjusted the fit around his heel.

  “They’ll mould to your feet,” the tailor assured him. “And the aether-filament will keep your soles warm in winter and cool in summer.”

  They turned to the bowler hat. Tallow retrieved a stiff raven-felt hat from a velvet-lined cabinet. He placed it on Jack’s head and activated a hidden rune enchantment. “Custom-fitted. It’ll hug your brow without pinching, and the brim is tailored to avoid shading your sight while you work.”

  Jack gazed at his reflection: a young man transformed, studious, purposeful, ready for his new role. He smiled, recalling his happy years working at the Royal Library with his father. I’ll be working with Dad again, he gulped at the thought.

  Thorn appeared with a wide smile. “All done?” he asked.

  Tallow nodded.

  Thorn continued, “Return tomorrow at midday; your suit, hat, and shoes will be awaiting you. Meanwhile, allow me to walk you to the door.”

  Jack redressed and collected his belongings, including a business card for Thorn and Tallow, and the partner business, which supplied magical protections.

  As they strolled back beneath the painting of the Royal Library, Thorn spoke of the building’s vast reading halls, its towering shelves and the hush broken only by the turning of pages. Jack listened, heart quickening as each detail cemented his future with his past. In his past life, he’d loved his time there.

  At the door, Jack paused. “Thank you, Thorn, Tallow. I’ll wear the suit with pride.” He meant it.

  “May it serve you as well as your pen,” Thorn replied.

  Jack stepped back into the early morning air, the promise of tomorrow glinting in the sunlight and the soft curl of spent blue aether-steam behind him.

  Chapter 084 [Chronos Sphere], [Fireball], [Frost Breath], And [Cleansing] Spell Scrolls Acquired