Chương 75: (B2.11)

11) Cobbler Ellen At first, Ellen had started to doubt her chosen role. It was, after all, a very basic role. Important to be sure, but when she compared it to the adventuring lifestyle of several of her sisters, or what she wanted when she began, it was dull and mundane. That alone was not the problem. Ellen was, like Village Ellen, more interested in settling in and doing something pleasant for the rest of her days. She remembered tending the inn, and she liked it… but Village Ellen was already there.

Still there.

The variety, the people she met, the smiles, the warmth, the food… she wanted those. Or, to be more accurate, she had wanted those. My problem, Ellen thought to herself, is that I chose to be a cobbler when we did not have the materials. Fisher had seemed content to just fuss with everything, and Ellen now saw the wisdom in her sister's decision. It was a lot of work, but it kept her busy, while she had chosen based on need and could only practice working the leather a bit.

A good cobbler needed a lot of practice to get anything done, and much like Smith Ellen, it had been a while before she could produce anything of real use. Ellen had complained a little, but those complaints had faded of late. Merchant had wondered if she was all right, and she'd dismissed it because she was all right. She wasn't sure the others could understand. Or maybe they could understand all too well, and Ellen was just embarrassed she hadn't seen it before.

Once she had actually gotten a little more practice with shoes and boots, Ellen's doubts had faded. She hadn't realized how complex the series of operations to make footwear was, since she'd only done crude sandals before. She should have known it was much more complicated, because good footwear was expensive. The cobbler and cordwainer were always important in a town, so of course the job wasn't simple. Especially when she was both making and repairing them.

Now she understood why the others were so happy in their roles. They could really explore the depth, just like she could. The stitching of sole to boot. The shaping of the leather. The countless steps in getting the leather to conform to the shape. The subtle adjustments of each to give greater comfort to each Ellen. Understanding the different needs between Hunter's boots and Village Ellen's casual shoes. Ellen was still an amateur at this, and wouldn't say she was good at everything.

That level of expertise at Level 11 would be impossible. But now that she was an actual Cordwainer —not some weird magical shoemaker, just a Cordwainer —she understood just how deep she could dive into this singular profession. She could savor each stitch, each curl of the leather, each subtle improvement in making the next shoe or boot, or in repairing a detached sole, or patching a worn hole. There was a certain beauty in the work, even if it was often smelly and far more exhausting than she'd imagined.

The satisfaction of having made the product that most of her other selves barely appreciated was enough. It was as great or greater even than the feeling she'd had as Village Ellen when serving customers or cleaning the inn. Slowly, the workshop was coming together as well. It was more comfortable in here even when sometimes she had to deal with tools or storage the other Ellens used it for. In time, that would clear up. She knew that. For now she could focus on her task and throw herself into the problem.

The door opened, and one of the quartet peeked in. Ellen wasn't sure which one, but she had a pretty good guess from the curious expression. It was most likely Acolyte or Scholar.

"I'm working on them," she said automatically, lining up the awl. Scholar Ellen—she could now tell because of the outfit—stepped in and closed the door, looking around the workshop.

"You've been pretty busy. We are glad you're enjoying yourself, it's good to be fully Ellen in being Ellen." As usual, the Adventuring Party made Ellen's head hurt, but she was used to it enough to shake it off.

"Did you need shoes or… something else?" Scholar just grimaced back.

"Look at the Settlement Interface." Ellen rarely bothered with that, herself. It was interesting, but it had nothing to help her with making shoes. The map was sometimes useful, but she'd been inside most of the last few days so hadn't bothered to look at it. Immediately upon pulling up the interface, Ellen saw the problem. It only listed the name of their little hamlet and a list of buildings with little else. The usual map, population list, stores available, and so on were missing.

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"Merchant must have died," she noted.

"Is that what you were checking?" Surprisingly, Scholar's expression brightened into a smile.

"Yes! We are checking to see if the other Ellens understand what just happened. It's good that we haven't drifted too far from being Ellen, even if we choose to be Ellens instead of single Ellens." Ellen had some doubts that the Adventuring Party were really her. The way they talked wasn't just strange in the choice of plurals. Instead, their fundamental vocabulary and attitude seemed so different from her own.

"Are you sure?" she asked. Scholar blinked at her, then she smiled more gently.

"Ah… yes, we are very different by now. You're from Village Ellen, and Village Ellen decided to be a different Ellen from us. We are still both Ellen, but you are more like an Ellen cousin now, instead of an Ellen sister. We should make some kind of chart…"

"I'm not sure that would help," Ellen muttered quietly.

"I get what you're saying, though. So is that everything you wanted, or did you want some shoes?" The question forced Scholar to wander closer to the workstation, glancing at the shoehorn curiously.

"We have other questions… before those, do your shoes do anything special? Can they? Can you make enchanted shoes like Smith can make enchanted items?" Ellen sighed and looked down at her current project.

"They have the power to keep your feet dry even in puddles. It's amazing and I bend my considerable powers toward enchanting each and every one of them with this formidable power." Scholar stared at her for a second, then burst into giggles and raised her hands in a surrendering pose.

"I get it, fine." The shift to first person singular startled Ellen, then she smiled back. As different as Scholar was, at least she had the same sense of humor and caught her meaning. Ellen waggled the awl at her, then set it down and smoothed her skirt.

"I'm a Cordwainer and I'm going to keep doing that," she declared.

"I know there's probably some Class that specializes in being like… a shoemaker for deer that magically puts them on hooves or something, but we're all kind of trying things out. Fisher and I are going to ground the rest of us, that's what we decided. We need some normal, simple crafts-Ellens." Scholar's smile faded into a thoughtful expression.

"That is a good idea. We can't all be doing something with no reference. Some good, normal Classes would at least have known progression." Ellen nodded.

"Exactly. And my normal is making shoes. And boots. And… footwear. While you are slicing up a dungeon. How is that going anyway?"

"Slowly," Scholar sighed.

"We know what we want to do, but finding the right place to do it is… hard. And we don't think we have the right tools or power to do it yet. We know what to do, and even how to do it, but we're missing some pieces." While Scholar explained, Ellen resumed punching holes. Her job wouldn't wait for the adventurer part of herself to explain, she had to get things done. The slow crawl of experience kept moving up as she worked, steadily approaching the next Level.

She almost jumped out of her skin when Scholar interrupted her again with a poke to the cheek.

"Do you think you'll turn into a wolf?" The question yanked Ellen out of her thoughts again with a frown.

"It's been multiple months," she pointed out.

"I think when we split off of Village Ellen it cleansed the lycanthropy, but I know what you're thinking. Now that it's under control, is it really a curse? Is it just held back or something? I don't think we're in danger of becoming a colony of werewolves, unless Village starts biting people." Scholar shook her head.

"She claims she can't infect anyone. We will see if that stays the same." Ellen paused.

"You don't trust her?"

"We trust her to be Ellen," Scholar shrugged.

"But we worry. And we worry about Merchant. How could she have died? Why didn't she appear here? There are so many things we don't understand."

"Maybe it's the closest bed," Ellen shrugged, trying to get back to her shoe. Even as she said that, she realized it was wrong.

"No, wait… we didn't appear in this hamlet back when we died and split into Village and Builder, did we? We ended up in the inn much farther from the mine." Scholar clapped her hands together.

"Yes, exactly! There must be some logic to it! You understand!" Ellen sighed raggedly.

"Well, maybe it's the last place we sleep or… something like that. That would match it." Instead of being satisfied with that, Scholar dropped onto a stool.

"Maybe, but do you think the System cares about that? It does match the evidence, so it is the best idea I have as well… but it seems too simple. Too clean. Also too dangerous to test. It really is a question." Rolling her eyes, Ellen set her awl down again.

"The real question is why a Scholar -based Ellen who is thinking through this carefully is talking to me, a Cordwainer, about the details of how these things work. I'm not the one who thinks about them, I'm not the one who really even cares about them. I make shoes, and I like making shoes, and I am trying to make more shoes."

"That's what makes you the best Ellen to talk to about these things!" Scholar clapped her hands again.

"You are the Ellen who doesn't think about this, but you can understand them. You are the only Ellen who had doubts about what you chose to do, and now you are wanting to do it more. Isn't that interesting? We think it is." Ellen narrowed her eyes.

"I did at first, but once I started doing it, I liked it. Now, with Merchant dead you know we'll need more shoes, right? Shouldn't you want me to work?"

"One more question!" Scholar protested as she held up a hand.

"Can you think of any task an Ellen would not want to do? Something that an Ellen might try and not like, ever? If you could, what would it be?" That did make Ellen stop to think about it. She frowned, twirling a lock of hair around one finger.

"I can think of a lot of things we wouldn't want—I wouldn't want to be," she muttered.

"Now you've got me doing it. But to answer your question I'm not sure I can think of a Class I wouldn't want to try, just positions. I'm not sure what this has to do with anything, let alone your attempt to slice off a piece of the dungeon." Scholar just grinned at her and then stepped aside, heading for the door. She cast a quick wink on her way out.

"A girl has to have a hobby." Ellen seriously doubted that was the only reason.