The mansion housed a costume room. It wasn't just for storage; it was a workshop where clothes were actually made. It hadn't been built for that purpose, but that was what it became once Zabuton and her children started using it as their base of operations. Incidentally, I’d lost track of the exact number of closets and warehouses dedicated to clothing sometime last year after each total surpassed ten. I couldn't even guess what the current count was.
But back to the costume room. Inside, several of Zabuton’s children—each roughly the size of a half-tatami mat—were busy at work. They were likely crafting new designs for winter and outfits for next year’s parade. I watched as the mannequins I’d built were dressed, stripped, and then redressed in a different set of clothes in a tireless cycle. Nearby, Zabuton was busy taking my measurements. I didn't think my physique had changed much, but apparently, there were subtle shifts that only she could detect. As a result, she insisted on measuring me every season.
Her movements were so efficient that it wasn't a burden at all. It felt like something I just did while dropping by to say hello.
"Hm? My preferences? The same as always, please—keep them plain and focus on functionality. I know you'll make flashy ones even if I don't ask for them."
I knew what I was doing. I made a point of wearing the more extravagant outfits whenever I left the village. Though, I felt a bit bad that I’d rushed off in such plain clothes when I went to find Count Pugyal.
"Wait, what? You want to form a 'Costume Squad' so I can change at a moment's notice? I don't think that’s necessary, but... how would that even work? You'd have spiderlings as large as yourself carrying tool shelves and wardrobes on their backs? I don't doubt their strength, but still. And you’d have other spiderlings tag along to sew clothes on the spot to suit the situation? By situation, you mean... ah, formal events and ceremonies. True, those are specific. And keeping my colors from clashing with the host is important too. But you'd even have a dedicated changing staff so I could swap clothes while I’m working? No, surely that’s impossible mid-task. Even getting the old ones off... wait, you’d just cut the clothes right off my body? Then you'd take the new outfit, which is already in pieces, and fasten it onto me? That’s far too much trouble. I’ll make sure to change myself. So, that’s the plan for the Costume Squad?"
"Wait, there’s more? You’d appoint an Arachne as the commander? Well, I suppose a unit like that would need a leader. I was well aware of how capable the Arachnes were at leading. After all, it wasn't an exaggeration to say they were the ones who truly guarded the teleportation gates in the dungeons. An Arachne was formidable on her own, but they never let that go to their heads; they always stayed in sync with the spiderlings in the dungeon. They even coordinated with the Lamia Race and the Giant Race, usually serving as the tactical leads. I suppose part of that was because the Arachnes were the only ones who could actually speak to give orders, but they were certainly better at commanding than I was. Especially Arako.
"Hm? You're saying that among the current Arachnes, there isn't one with enough of a fashion sense to lead the Costume Squad? I see. They are a bit more combat-oriented. I guess we’ll just have to look forward to their growth. Let's put the squad on hold until a suitable Arachne is ready. I understand, though. I'll make sure to wear the clothes you prepare for me. Yes, I'm not lying. I'll wear them. Lately, your designs have been staying right on the edge of being flashy without crossing the line into things I'd refuse. Or maybe I’ve just gotten used to it? Well, flashy clothes aren't so bad. Zabuton and the others put a lot of hard work into them, after all."
I left the costume room and headed into the next one. In the center of the room, dozens of fist-sized spiderlings were lined up along the short edge of a long wooden board. They attached their silk to the wood and moved toward the opposite end, stretching the threads out as they went. Once the board was neatly covered in parallel strands of silk, the spiderlings began to jump.
They didn't jump all at once. They moved in alternating groups—every other spiderling took a turn. It looked like they were divided by odd and even numbers, leaping in a rhythmic, staggered pattern. While they were in the air, a single fist-sized spiderling zipped back and forth between the rising and falling threads, trailing its own silk behind it.
The spiderlings in this room were weaving fabric. This was their version of a loom. Once the spiderling moving between the threads had made a few passes, it would stop, and other spiderlings would push the newly woven threads tight against the edge. It was a masterpiece of coordination. The fabric was being created across the board at a staggering speed. When a section was finished, a larger spiderling would flip the board over to start on the back. They repeated this process to weave long bolts of cloth. While they were using their own silk now, they occasionally used thread purchased from Village Five or Shashato City. The method remained the same; the tiny spiderlings just held onto the spools instead.
I couldn't just stand there and watch, though. I had come to help. My assistance wasn't needed for the experts in the center of the room, but rather for the apprentices practicing their weaving in the corner. Zabuton’s children were naturally gifted, but they didn't get that way without effort. They practiced constantly, especially the parts that required working with others.
"Alright, everyone. You’re working hard. Still having trouble with the timing? Don't worry, you’ll get it soon. You might not strictly need me, but let me help you out. I’m going to beat this taiko drum. I want you to jump in time with the rhythm. Now, remember, don't all jump at once. Group A, you jump when I hit the center for a 'thump.' Group B, you jump when I hit the rim for a 'clack.' We don't need to worry about the rows yet. Just focus on the beat. Here we go. Thump, clack, thump, clack, thump, clack..."
"Oh! You’re doing perfectly. Alright, let’s try forming rows now. Alternate the groups—Group A, then Group B. Stay focused and don't let the spiderling next to you throw off your timing. Here we go!"
I spent some time practicing the weaving rhythm with the children.
"Mountain Elves. You realize that bringing a weaving machine in here right now is the wrong move, don't you? It’s not about whether it has new features or not. Look at how hard these children are working. If you’ve got a machine to show off, show it to someone else. Good, I’m glad you understand. We’ll take that machine to the Goroun Company later."
It was finally time for a break. Zabuton and her children couldn't produce silk forever; they needed proper nutrition to keep their silk strong.
"I know, I know. I’ll steam some potatoes. And I’ll make some baked ones too. Those of you who prefer them raw can have them that way. Normally, some of the children would just nibble on raw potatoes while they worked, but if I was around, they would stop to have a proper meal. In that case, I had to provide something substantial. I decided to make some Imoni potato stew as well. Since the volume was too much for me to handle alone, I requested help from the High Ogre maids. We made a massive amount, knowing that the spiderlings who weren't in the room would surely smell it and come running. I figured some of Kuro’s children might show up too."
"Village Head."
One of the High Ogre maids called out to me and then glanced to the side. I followed her gaze and saw my children standing there. It seemed their studies for the day were finished.
"Zabuton, is it alright if my children join the feast?"
Zabuton and the spiderlings struck a welcome pose in response.
"Hahaha. Thank you. I’ll make sure there’s plenty for everyone. Mountain Elves, sorry to ask, but could you go grab more potatoes from the storehouse? I don't think what we have here will be enough. Don't worry, I already counted you in for the meal. The weaving machine was one thing, but you’ve been working hard too. I’m not going to leave you out. No need for flattery—just go grab the extra supply."