CHAPTER 39: HOUSES AND CLOTHING

The morning after Marron sent her letters, the sound of hammers woke her before the sun had fully risen. She rubbed her eyes, stumbled out of the kitchen’s back room, and nearly tripped over a stack of lumber already waiting by the inn’s frame.

Harvey stood at the heart of it, sleeves rolled high, barking instructions with a grin as his apprentices scrambled to measure beams. His voice carried like a song through Meadowbrook Commons—steady, grounding, and sure.

"You sleep too much, Chef!" he called when he spotted Marron. "If we’re to finish in three days, there’s no time for lazing about!"

Marron laughed softly. "I don’t think you’ve been awake for more than two hours either."

"Carpenters rise with the dawn," Harvey said firmly. "Get used to it."

Before she could answer, wheels creaked in the distance. Marron turned—and her breath caught.

A small wagon rattled down the dirt path, pulled by a sturdy ox. Atop the bench sat two figures: a wolfkin with thick gray fur braided neatly at the temples, and a snakekin whose scales shimmered like polished emerald. Their cart was stacked with bundles of fabric, tool chests, and a chest that clinked faintly with every bump.

The apprentices dropped their tools in excitement. "Visitors!"

The wagon rolled to a stop in front of the bakery. The wolfkin jumped down first, all grace despite her broad shoulders, then offered a hand to her companion. The snakekin accepted with poise, long coils shifting under a flowing wrap.

"Marron Louvel?" the wolfkin asked, her voice crisp and professional.

"Yes," Marron said, startled.

The snakekin inclined her head, her golden eyes keen. "We are sent by the Snake Queen and Lord Jackal. Tailors, seamstresses, and clothworkers at your service."

The wolfkin’s ears twitched as her gaze swept over Marron, Mokko, Lucy’s jar, and even Balen leaning against the bakery’s doorframe. Her nose wrinkled.

"Oh, no."

The snakekin hissed softly, in perfect harmony. "No, no, no."

"What?" Marron asked, confused.

Both turned on her at once, voices firm. "Your clothes."

Marron looked down. She wore her same apron, patched and floured. Mokko’s trousers had been mended three times over. Lucy’s jar had an old ribbon tied around the lid, faded from sunlight. Balen looked smug but guilty as he flicked a crumb off his uniform.

The wolfkin folded her arms. "Unacceptable."

The snakekin nodded sharply. "Completely unacceptable."

Together, they declared: "We’ll get everyone fresh clothing right now."

Marron blinked. "Right... now?"

"Yes."

The apprentices snickered until the wolfkin’s sharp ears twitched their way. They went back to sawing beams very quickly.

Mokko scratched his head, baffled. "Isn’t it fine? Clothes are clothes."

The wolfkin growled. "Clothes are dignity."

The snakekin’s tail lashed with emphasis. "Clothes are presence."

"And," the wolfkin added, "yours are pitiful."

Marron’s cheeks flushed. Pitiful.

She wasn’t that bad, was she?

Balen chuckled low, golden eyes sparkling. "Oh, this is going to be fun."

Before Marron could argue, bolts of fabric were unfurled across the bakery’s counter. Fine wool, soft linens, shimmering silks—colors she hadn’t seen since Whisperwind’s market. The wolfkin pulled out chalk, the snakekin drew thread from a spool, and in moments Marron was being measured from shoulder to wrist while Mokko was spun in a circle like a particularly stubborn mannequin.

Lucy, sitting politely on her shelf, hummed until the snakekin suddenly leaned close. "Even the slime deserves a proper covering."

Lucy squeaked. "Me?!"

"Yes," they said together. "And when you evolve, we’ll be back."

"Evolve?!" Lucy asked, excited.

The snakekin gestured to Marron. "Mmhm. If you keep traveling with her, one day you might even take on human form!"

Marron laughed, the tension breaking. That would be interesting to see, for sure.

Maybe one day I can help her and Mokko get even stronger.

The apprentices peered in from the doorway, wide-eyed. Harvey didn’t even look up from his beams. "Let ’em work," he rumbled. "Tailors fussing is the same as carpenters hammering. Means the job’s getting done."

And somehow, it was comforting.

As the tailors’ needles flashed and Harvey’s hammer rang, Marron realized something strange—this wasn’t just rebuilding Meadowbrook. It wasn’t just about baking or carpentry. This was community,

forming stitch by stitch, board by board.

And maybe, just maybe, she was at the center of it.

+

The wolfkin tailor clapped his hands together. "Done!"

Marron blinked down at herself. Her old apron had been replaced with sturdy linen dyed a soft moss-green, embroidered at the hem with golden wheat stalks so fine they seemed to ripple when she moved. The fabric hugged her shoulders comfortably, practical yet warm.

"It’s... beautiful," she whispered, brushing her fingers over the stitching.

The snakekin seamstress flicked her forked tongue in satisfaction. "Practical, breathable, and it won’t catch flour in the weave. Even better—when you stand behind your cart, people will see the wheat first. It says: here grows food."

Lucy twirled happily, her ribbon gleaming in the firelight. "I look fancy too!" she declared, her little slime-body wobbling with pride.

The apprentices whistled at Mokko, who had been outfitted in a deep brown tunic with reinforced stitching at the elbows and shoulders. "Looks like a real professional," one teased.

"Looks like a real grump," Mokko muttered, though his ears flushed red.

Balen leaned back against the wall, golden eyes glinting with amusement. "Not bad at all. You two could set up shop together. Repair a storefront and you’d be swimming in customers."

The wolfkin tailor elbowed the seamstress. "Hah, hear that? First time I’ve agreed with a human chef."

She snorted. "First time for everything."

Their easy banter filled the room with warmth. Marron clutched her apron tighter. She hadn’t realized how threadbare her clothes had become until she put this on. Somehow, it wasn’t just clothing—it was a promise.

Something new to grow into.

The creak of hinges interrupted them. The bakery’s heavy front door swung open, and lantern light spilled into the Commons.

An elderly dwarf stepped inside, his beard long and a little scraggly, the glow of the lantern painting his weathered features in gold.

"I’m surprised to see you up top," Balen remarked, standing straighter.

The dwarf tipped his cap politely. "Name’s Borin Emberthane. Was an earthquake in the last town over. My friends and I have been looking for a new start."

"Friends?" Marron asked, her tail flicking nervously.

Sure enough, six more dwarves filtered in behind him—women and men both, with a few children peeking shyly around their parents’ legs. The lanterns they carried swung gently, throwing little sparks of light across the bakery walls.

Marron’s heart stuttered. "Meadowbrook is... a little worse for wear right now." She gestured to the ramshackle houses, the half-broken stalls, the roofless inn. "But we’re trying to fix it up."

The dwarves looked around—and to her surprise, their faces broke into smiles.

"Luckily," Borin said with a rumble of laughter, "fresh start’s what we’re good at."

+

They all filed into the inn, the carpenters and dwarves walking shoulder to shoulder as if they’d known each other longer than a minute.

Borin tilted his head back, lantern light gleaming off his eyes as he studied the rafters. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Strong bones. Roof’s a patchwork, aye, but the foundation’s good. We’ll add some stone to the wood. Just a bit of stone and then the timber can go behind it."

A red-haired dwarf woman, broad-shouldered and sharp-eyed, nodded. "I can set mortar by morning. Won’t take much to seal the cracks. And then we can tear down one of the other houses and make a place outta stone."

The apprentices puffed up with pride as Borin tested one of their joists with a firm knock. He grunted approvingly. "Straight cuts. Steady hands. Not bad."

The boys practically glowed.

"Still take you a hundred years before you’re ready to strike out on your own," Harvey rumbled, smirking.

"Boss!" they groaned in unison, but their laughter rang loud enough to fill the empty rafters.

Balen chuckled. "That’s the kind of voice that keeps you sharp. Better than any Guild instructor."

"Guild instructors?" Harvey snorted. "All talk. Wood doesn’t care about speeches—it splits when you cut it wrong. Best lesson a boy can learn." He ruffled one apprentice’s hair until the boy ducked with a grin.

Marron couldn’t stop watching.

Here was a man who didn’t dream of culinary greatness, who didn’t care about politics or prestige. He just wanted to feed his boys. And yet... in his own craft, in carpentry, he shone.

She thought of her own hands—shaping dough, flipping pancakes, baking rolls. Her mother’s shadow loomed large, but Harvey’s steady confidence whispered another truth: maybe she didn’t need to match anyone else.

Maybe it was enough to feed the people who mattered, the way Harvey did.

By nightfall, the apprentices, tailors, and dwarves had set up their sleeping rolls inside the half-finished inn. The bakery square, once empty, was alive with laughter, chatter, and the smell of bread lingering faintly from the oven.

Marron sat by the campfire, her new apron folded neatly across her lap. Lucy hummed softly in her jar, Mokko whittled a piece of scrap wood, and the dwarves swapped stories in their gravelly voices.

It felt different now. Not just her food cart. Not just the bakery.

This isn’t just me feeding strangers anymore, Marron thought, pressing her hand to her chest. This is a community. People who build, who sew, who hammer, who raise roofs. And me—who bakes bread to keep them going.

The thought was frightening. It was heavy. But instead of crushing her, it warmed her, like dough rising by a hearth.

She looked up at the patched beams glowing in the firelight and whispered, "Maybe I don’t need to shine like my mom did. Maybe it’s enough to shine here. With them."

The words lingered in the quiet night—until the familiar chime of the System cut through.

[System Notice]

Community Buff unlocked: +5% Morale when eating together.

Marron’s breath caught. She pressed a hand to her chest. The warmth spreading there wasn’t just from the fire anymore.

Maybe, just maybe, she really was building something that mattered.