That evening, Owen strolled through the charming streets toward Don's shop, eager to see what treasures awaited him inside. However, as he approached, he was met with disappointment—the shop was closed for the day. The wooden sign swinging gently in the evening breeze proclaimed that it would reopen at 8 a.m. the following morning. With no other option but to wait, Owen turned his attention to finding a suitable place to spend the night.
After a short search, Owen discovered a hotel that was part of the Normandy Guild, a name he had grown to trust for its quality and hospitality. As he stepped inside, the inviting scent of fresh flowers wafted through the air, and the soft glow of ambient lighting created a cozy atmosphere. The receptionist behind the desk welcomed him with a warm smile that instantly put him at ease. Her friendly demeanor and helpful nature suggested that he would have a pleasant stay at this charming establishment.
As he approached the wooden desk, Owen fished his Normandy ID from his pocket and presented it to the receptionist with a polite smile. Her eyes flickered with recognition as she took the ID. She told him that it would give a 5% discount. Eager to settle in, Owen requested a reservation for a room for ten nights. After a moment, she looked up and informed him that the standard rate for a single night was 206 Thal. However, with his discount applied, the cost for a night would only be 197 Thal. Owen did the math in his head and realized the total for his stay of ten nights would come to 1970 Thal, which roughly translated to about $19.70—a meager expense given his current funds.
Owen handed over the amount, feeling a sense of satisfaction as he completed the transaction. After the payment, he noted that he still had a considerable sum left, plenty to invest in armor and gear the following day. The receptionist, noticing his enthusiasm, smiled warmly and handed him a brass key, its weight a reassuring promise of comfort.
With a slight nod, she motioned for him to follow her down the softly lit corridor. The warm illumination cast gentle shadows on the polished wooden floors. As they walked, Owen could hear the faint echo of footsteps and distant conversations, a reminder of life outside.
Finally, she paused before a sturdy door. She then unlocked it with a practiced motion, the soft click of the latch breaking the silence, and swung the door open to reveal his room.
The space, though modest, radiated a cozy charm. Tasteful furnishings in warm hues adorned the room, where a plush, inviting bed sat prominently in one corner. A large window framed a lively view of the bustling streets below, alive with the typical rhythm of city life—the chatter of people being heard through the glass.
Stepping inside, excitement bubbled up within Owen, fueled by the promise of adventures that lay ahead. He took in the comfortable bed, its inviting covers neatly arranged, and a decently sized desk, equipped with a lamp. A clean bathroom completed the space, its tiles gleaming in the soft light of the lamp.
Grateful for the accommodation, Owen quickly shed his clothes, mindful of the remnants of the day that clung to him, remnants he was eager to leave behind. Ensuring he wouldn't mar the pristine bed with any unsightly stains, he settled in, the comfort of the mattress lulling him into a deep, much-needed sleep, his mind buzzing with anticipation for what tomorrow might bring.
The following morning, Owen pulled on his clothes from the previous day, stains of dried blood marking the fabric—reminders of a night he was eager to escape. Their tightness felt like a physical manifestation of his discomfort, and he knew he had to find a replacement soon. As he descended the narrow staircase of the hotel, the aroma of fresh coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the chatter of guests in the lobby. He approached the receptionist with a sense of urgency, inquiring about where to purchase some good-quality clothing.
She offered a bright smile and recommended a tailor just down the street, saying he had a knack for understanding style. With a renewed sense of purpose, Owen stepped out into the vibrant city streets, his heart racing as he navigated through the throngs of people bustling along the sidewalks.
After about five minutes of weaving through the crowd, he arrived at the shop she mentioned: Leo Dotson Tailoring. The storefront was quaint, with a vintage awning that added charm to its appearance. Upon entering, Owen was greeted by the sight of Leo, a young man about 27 years old. His striking blond hair was tied neatly in a bun, and he wore a classic tailor's outfit—complete with a measuring tape draped casually around his neck.
As his eyes landed on Owen, he raised an eyebrow and offered a sarcastic yet warm remark, "Wow, it looks like you desperately need some new clothes." His humor broke the tension, and Owen found himself laughing in agreement, grateful for his lightheartedness amidst his unease. It felt like the fresh start he had been hoping for, and he was ready for the transformation that lay ahead.
Leo led Owen into a dimly lit side room, the atmosphere heavy with the scent of antiseptic and the lingering remnants of past encounters. As Owen stood there, still reeling from the events that had led him here, Leo gestured toward a small stool and instructed him to remove his bloodstained clothing. "It's disgusting," he remarked, crinkling his nose in distaste. "It's making a mess and it smells terrible." Owen couldn't argue with his assessment; the fabric clung to his skin, saturated and grimy.
Once Owen had shed the clothes, Leo approached with a measuring tape in hand. He was methodical, taking down each measurement with precision. Owen caught glimpses of the sheet he scribbled on—an official record of his dimensions that felt strangely personal. After measuring his height, waist, chest, inseam, and even his shoe size, he stepped away, disappearing into the back room while leaving the measurement sheet behind, carelessly resting on the stool.
The numbers stared back at Owen, emphasizing his physical presence in stark detail: Height 192 cm (6 feet 3 inches), Waist 34 inches, Chest 42 inches, Inseam 35 inches, and Shoe Size 12. Each statistic felt like a part of his identity, a canvas of his stature, and he couldn't shake the feeling that these measurements would soon become more than just numbers. They were about to play a significant role in the path that lay ahead.
As Owen carefully examined the sheet of fabric in front of him, Leo emerged from the back of his shop, his arms laden with a colorful array of shirts, pants, and various cloth materials for custom-made clothing. A warm smile spread across his face as he approached. "I can provide some outfits that will fit your build, but they won't be perfect since your physique is unique," he explained, his tone earnest. "For that reason, I would like to custom tailor your outfits to ensure they fit you just right."
Owen considered his proposition and decided to go ahead with the custom tailoring, but he also opted to purchase a few of the premade outfits as a temporary solution. Leo's face lit up with happiness at Owen's acceptance of his offer.
Owen made his way to the changing room, excitement bubbling inside him as he tried on the premade outfits. They fit reasonably well, better than he had expected, though Leo's words echoed in his mind: they were far from perfect. After a bit of deliberation, he selected a stylish ensemble to wear for the day, carefully folding the remaining outfits and bringing them back to the front of the store where Leo awaited.
Curious about the total cost, Owen inquired with him. "The total for all eight outfits you're holding, along with the one you're wearing, comes to 3 Ran and 4550 Thal," he replied, gesturing to the garments. When he converted the amount into dollars, Owen realized it was about $345.50, which he promptly paid without hesitation.
His interest was piqued by the custom outfits, so Owen asked Leo for more details regarding their cost. Leo looked thoughtful before answering, "If I make ten custom outfits, the total would be around 10 Ran, or about $1,000." After a moment's consideration, Owen decided to pay that amount upfront. He could see the surprise flicker across Leo's face; it was uncommon for customers to pay in advance like that. Still, Owen felt it was only fair given the personal nature of the order.
Once they completed the transaction, Owen left the shop, feeling a sense of satisfaction with his purchases and the arrangements made for his custom outfits. With his new clothes in hand, he headed toward Don's workshop, eager to create his armor and continue his journey.
As Owen entered Don's shop, the rich scent of tanned leather enveloped him, and his eyes were immediately drawn to an array of leather armor sets neatly displayed on the walls. Each piece gleamed under the shop's soft lighting, showcasing intricate stitching and detailed craftsmanship. Behind the counter stood a robust man with a weathered face and a knowledgeable glint in his eyes—clearly, this was Don, the owner.
Owen approached him with a friendly demeanor and asked, "Are you the owner of this shop?" Don nodded with a warm smile, confirming his identity and radiating an air of confidence.
Owen reached into his storage bag and carefully pulled out a finely crafted piece of advanced perfect quality leather, its surface smooth and supple. Holding it up, he inquired if Don could transform it into armor. Don's expression turned serious but enthusiastic as he assured Owen that he had the skill to do so. However, he warned that the crafting process would take some time. Owen nodded, signaling that he was more than willing to wait.
Don proceeded to explain the costs involved, emphasizing that the price would reflect the quality and effort of the craftsmanship. Owen sensed that it would be significant, but he had mentally prepared himself for this. After a brief moment of reflection, he agreed to the terms and saw the glimmer of appreciation in Don's eyes.
Don carefully took the advanced leather from Owen's hands, handling it with the reverence it deserved. He informed Owen that the armor would be ready for pickup in three days. Intrigued and slightly anxious, Owen then asked about the total cost. Don told him it would be 35 Ran (approximately $3,500), which surprisingly turned out to be more reasonable than Owen had anticipated.
Relieved and eager to see the final product, Owen paid him upfront, appreciating his transparent dealings. With the arrangements made, Owen turned to leave Don's shop, his mind already racing with thoughts of the new quest waiting for him at the main guild building. As he exited, he felt a renewed sense of purpose, excited for the adventure that lay ahead.