121 Braces

Thomas opened his eyes to see an unfamiliar ceiling and sat up, remembering that he was in the nobles' quarters. In his reflection in the large mirror above the wooden desk opposite to him, he saw himself with two large bags under his eyes. He yawned and threw his sheets off himself. He put on his new set of clothes that his father had given him right before he left, the soft shirt and pants sliding onto his tired body. He made his bed, readied his bag for the day, and walked to the door, but stopped. 'I might have to kill someone today.' He glanced back at the mirror. His bleak expression contrasted against the colorful room. 'Should I put on my armor yet?'

Five minutes later, he was fully decked out with his newest set of armor specially made by Kilot, a Dwarven blacksmith that had recently come out of retirement. The set that he wore was similar to Doevm's armor, chain mail with metal plates, a mix of leather and metal greaves and boots.