Religious: Fiducia Mar Rossell | Glowfic Constellation

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It took until the Four-Day War for the Rossells to accept that this wasn't going to stop.

They were weavers, and the descendants of weavers. Five generations at least, and probably more; the second-largest family in the town weaver's guild, which was its largest, lots of herders in the hills near Roda de Ter and they were right near the top of the navigable river to ship it down to the real cities. And then cloth started coming up the river at prices they couldn't possibly match, and news said an archmage was making it, one who hated Cheliax and wanted them weak and fallen before him, and so for a while they hoped that when he'd ~~conquered or~~ been killed it would stop and they'd be able to sell their crafts again and the lean times would end.

But the War ended, and the Asmodean priests fled and half the nobles did too, and the cheap cloth kept coming. Even cheaper, if you bought in silver and gold, though the old Asmodean paper money was being given away like it was cursed, which maybe it was.

"He's ruined us!", her mother said, "He's supposed to be 'saving us from Asmodeus' but we're going to need saving from starvation if this goes another season! We need to do something to get him to stop."

"Mother, he's an archmage. He's half as cunning as a god and has a Grand Inquisitor of Abadar advising him, he can't have missed this."

"So we need to tell him why he should stop! Persuade him!", Mother said, well on the way to hysteria.

"No, Mother, I'm not thinking about that. That's in the past, it happened. One town's guild arguing with an archmage is like arguing with a storm. I'm thinking about what comes next."

"What?", Mother asked, too confused to reply.

"We're experts, our skills aren't useless, we just need to figure out what is used."

"But it's too cheap! We can't compete with this!"

"...It's too cheap! Of course!"

"What?"

"Nobles don't buy anything cheap. They don't have to, they're rich, and they want us to know it! They want us to see it! What will the nobles want now?"

She had some guesses. All the new cloth was plain, single-colored; good quality construction, but no patterns, not even the simple kinds you'd see with a blend of threads. It would be hard to make a quilt with whatever he was doing, she thought, and certainly not a fine rug. But she could, actually, ask; there was a Countess who kept her seat just outside the town, so she asked the Guildmaster for a letter of introduction (he was her aunt's brother-in-law, this wasn't that hard), and went to ask.

Her letter was inspected and she was let in politely and waited for a long while, which was alright, this was a Countess. She was brought into the audience chamber eventually.

"Miss Rossell," the intimidating woman said, "For what reason are you petitioning me?"

"I'm sure you know, your excellency, that the weavers of Roda de Ter are struggling to compete with the archmage's goods. So I've come to ask for information, if you're willing to give it."

"Information?", the countess said, intrigued.

"Surely you've noticed, my lady, that the cloth coming from downriver is plain. Excellent construction, but with no patterns and in large bolts of fabric of the same kind. Much of the cloth we've supplied you in past years was very similar, but that was our best work, and now, well, well-to-do burghers in town all have dresses nearly as good."

The countess's eyes narrowed, but Mar forced down a gulp and barreled on.

"I imagine, your excellency, that you would prefer something extraordinary, that can't easily be made from spell-made cloth. And we are still the best weavers in the duchy, ma'am. We would be happy to make it for you, for prices befitting our liege-lady, and let you set the new fashion. So my question is, your excellency: What shall we make for you?"

The countess stared at her, and then smiled, and Mar knew her family was saved.