69 Clothing Makes the Man

Jacob left the store with a single gold to his name, but he was fully equipped in chainmail. It was cheaper than plate, especially if both were of good quality. He held a helmet in his hands, reminiscent of what Spartans would have worn back in Greece. The uncanny resemblance forced Jacob to hurry to a clothier nearby on the hopes that he might find one still open. Fortuna was with him.

A single shop still had its lights open on a street not so far away. Its sign, illuminated by the lanterns' light, read "Gregory's Clothing." The man inside the shop was immaculately dressed, rivalling any noble he had seen in Steelshade. That was one of the benefits of being the producer of such rich garments, Jacob guessed. Had he not needed to learn to fight to return home, he might have whittled his hours away in a place like this, wearing clothes like those.

As it stood now, he didn't have the funds to buy anything of real worth in a shop as expensive as this. Just because this place was a clothier didn't make it exactly what Jacob was looking for. Unwilling to risk his plan on finding another clothier still open, Jacob stepped through the doors. A jingle accompanied his entrance, drawing Gregory's attention to the customer. The sight of a warrior clearly confused the man, for he wasn't the type to outfit warriors in tabards or other such accompaniments to their armor.

"How may I help you?" the man managed to get out despite dangerously furrowed eyebrows. How did someone manage to bring their eyebrows so close together, Jacob wondered.

"I'm looking for a cape to attach to my armor. It doesn't need to be anything fancy. In fact, I'd prefer it if it weren't," Jacob cut to the chase, hoping that he would need to use the entirety of his last coin. Gregory pondered Jacob's request, bringing his fist into his open palm with clarity.

"I've got just the thing. It was an old project of mine before I opened this place. Let me go fetch it," Gregory stepped backwards and exited the room through a door that led to a staircase. The buildings in Steelshade weren't all that large; they had to stack high to be able to fit everything. Jacob guessed that the clothier lived above his shop. It would certainly save on rent, at the very least.

When Gregory returned, he did so with a dark red cape. It would attach to Jacob's armor, but it was a bit of a DIY kind of attachment. Gregory even admitted to such, charging Jacob only half a gold for the cape. Loath as Jacob was to pay that much for a ridiculously overpriced square of red cloth, he needed it for the following day. It would give him some gravitas, even if his collar shredded much of it anyway.

Overall, Jacob left the shops a pleased man. His armor was excellent; he wouldn't be prone to as much slashing damage as before. If his opponent used a rapier or a blunt weapon, he was still in for a rough time, though. His cape fluttered behind him as he walked, the red a stark contrast to the green of the wyrm scales.

Once he put on his tabard, the color mismatch would stand out even more. That was part of the plan, if he was being honest. He wanted to dishonor King Benjamin III without the collar activating. That searing heat was something he'd never get used to, despite the great amount of time he'd spent in it since Will's betrayal.

Jacob returned to the College with plenty of time to spare, presenting his pass to go inside the complex. It was pleasantly uneventful given the last time he'd had to truly deal with a guard at the Academy. For a moment, he'd even believed that he would need to draw his weapon.

Relentless Blade College really paid the guards a lot if the men were so loyal to the institution. They'd acceded to his demands of letting him in when he threated to magic them to madness. Jacob lacked that ability, but no one needed to know exactly what he was capable of with his magic other than him.

If the King learned about Jacob's rapid growth in magic, a search the likes of which had never been seen before would commence. Based on what he read in the introductory textbook, strength could only be unlocked through the casting of difficult spells and then only up to a point that differs from person to person. Jacob did not want to show his new method to anyone, just quite yet.

He didn't know whether the technique was only usable by him because of his weird mana, but it helped him. A weak servant wasn't a threat. A strong servant was a back-stabbing waiting to happen. That's what Jacob had to leverage again the King. He couldn't let the King know that he was significantly strong in the ways of magic, enough to finally be enough to summon three earthen spikes of human size. As soon as Benjamin did find out, Jacob's life would be forfeit.

The next day simultaneously offered great excitement but also anxiety as Jacob crawled into his bed. Without magic, he was a good swordsman, but he wasn't legendary. He supposed that met his needs, but now he wished that he spent less time meditating and more time working with weapons. Claimed by oblivion, Jacob fell into his dreams.

"Fuck!"

His forehead was drenched in sweat, his covers kicked halfway across the room. It had been another memory of his friends and family at an old birthday party. It wasn't a nightmare, per se, but it was the last thing he needed. Waking up in the middle of the night sucked for getting rest prior to a major competition.

Shrugging his indignation off, Jacob hurried to sleep, but he remained awake and eager for at least an hour before dawn.

When the sunlight filtered through window, Jacob's eyes opened. It was game time.