#tkf

Anyways, have the Black Pawns from my boss’ idea “The King’s Fall”

But he had never held a needle in his entire life.

While he was still staring at the sleeve and wondering if he could ask one of the maids to help him fix the tear, Master Wolvam came into the study.

"Why are you sitting there in just your undershirt?" Wolvam asked.

Rilt held up his tunic. "I tore the cuff."

"So? Fix it."

"I, uh, I don't know how," stammered Rilt. He could calculate on a napkin the number of seamstresses and tailors a highborn household would need and how much to reasonably pay them, though. Maybe that could help.

Sighing, Wolvam rummaged around in a drawer and strode over to the fireplace, sitting down next to Rilt with a wooden box in hand. He opened the box to reveal a neatly sorted array of sewing tools: needles arranged by length on a piece of fabric, a pincushion stuck full of pins, thread in a variety of colors, a heavy pair of scissors, a short folding knife. After a quick glance at the tunic, Wolvam picked a needle and dark brown thread. Deftly, he threaded the needle, gauged the length of thread required, and cut the thread before tying a quick knot at the end. He handed the tool to Rilt who took it mutely.

"There you go. Start with the pointy end, you'll figure it out." Wolvam sat back. When Rilt did not start, Wolvam's eyebrows climbed his forehead. "Get to it. I want my needle back."

Face flushing from the mild comment, Rilt bent his head and tried to mend his cuff. It couldn't be that hard, he just needed to push the needle through the fabric this way and that -

"Ouch!" He sucked his finger into his mouth, tasting a burst of saltiness on his tongue from the blood.

"You'll be fine. Getting pricked is part of the learning process," Wolvam said unsympathetically.

Rilt glared at him, but resumed his clumsy sewing. He was pricked another two times, less painfully than that first jab, but after a while, he repaired the tear.