Armory

The armory and blacksmith were set up next to each other, the blazing fire of the forge giving the armory heat that was often uncomfortable on the warmer days.

Compared to the cold outside, it was a warm welcome for the team of four.

A man approached them as they basked in the warmth of the flames of creation. His figure was bulky, his muscles like a suit of armor wrapped around him. He stood half a head taller than the rest, and he even beat the lanky Mord.

"Greetings, Lady Colm. What brings you to my humble shop?" The man asked, though his flaming orange beard obscured his mouth. The end of the beard was tied, most likely to keep it neat. However, it didn't seem to work as the ends of the beard had been singed.

"Don't be so modest, Erikson. You're the best blacksmith in Redvale, a true master at your craft! I have come to outfit my friend with the finest armor the city can buy." Tyria said and gestured to Goleil.

Ty'Bral chuckled. "There is only one blacksmith in Redvale, from what I've seen."

Erikson bowed deeply before Tyria. "Your words honor me," He said and turned to Goleil. He inspected the knight's ragged cloak, dirty robes, and leather boots. The cloak and boots were all Goleil had of his old armor besides the mask.

"So you're the man I've heard so much about." He said, inspecting the Goleil's cloak.

"All good things, I presume." The knight said without much hope.

Erikson chuckled. "We'll get you suited up, but I must know first. Are you really an Eldritch?" He asked, checking the worn-out stitching on the cloak.

"Of course not! I am a Sun Guard of the Kingdom of Vrea!" Goleil said, trying to figure out why the man had asked such a question.

Erikson chuckled. "Of course not, but now I know a little more about you than everyone else. You should be more careful, Vrean." He said, a sly grin peeking through his beard.

Goleil's breath hitched, and then he began to laugh.

'How stupid! He had me there; I never expected to be compared to an eldritch.' He thought as an image of Ty'Bral's incomprehensible figure flashed in his mind.

The blacksmith cleared his throat and said, "So, what are you looking for, sir knight? Any constraints?" He said, leading the way to the armory through a doorway in the back of the room.

Goleil regained his composure and said, "Yes, I need something that can fit on my head with the mask, and the cloak stays on with the armor."

Erikson nodded. "The cloak is easy, the mask not so much. Can't you take the mask off? I understand wanting to keep your identity a secret, but you can take it off in private, right?"

Goleil sighed. "No, I can't. What if the helmet comes off in a fight? It must remain on."

'And even if I wanted to take it off, it won't let me!' He shouted internally.

Erikson led them into a room full of weapons and armor lining the walls, shelves, armor stands, and weapon racks. Each piece gleamed dangerously, and the magical candles provided more than enough light for the room.

Erikson gazed proudly at his collection of arms and armor, and Goleil's eyes were the size of saucers. The guards and Tyria stared smugly at the Sun Guard. Clearly, the knight hadn't expected such an extensive collection. How dare he underestimate Redvale?!

Goleil hadn't underestimated them.

He was so shocked because as soon as he walked into the room, a thin golden thread connected to each piece of metal in the room. Whatever was a weapon was disconnected, then so were boots, bracers, chest plates, and pauldrons, and continued until only the helmets were connected.

A catalog of helmets entered his mind, images of them racing by as he could do nothing but watch.

Suddenly, it stopped on one. It was sleek and glossy as a mirror, simple as it was effective. In the center where the face would be, a single opening flowed down the middle, and two thin eyeholes branched out gently like two branches.

The helm felt elegant, with a single ridge along the top that originated from the top of the vertical slit. If one looked close enough, one could see small curving engravings along the sleek finish of the helmet.

Goleil was drawn to the helm for a reason he could not describe. All the golden threads but one disconnected, and he felt his mask begin to morph.

He sighed. This would be difficult to explain, that was for sure.

...

Mord, Gwen, Tyria, and Erikson stared in disbelief as they watched Goleil's mask warp and twist. It started to change color as the material began transmuting from white stone into polished steel. It stretched as it covered Goleil's entire head, engulfing his hair and ears until it formed a helmet.

Goleil looked at them, those ever-present golden eyes piercing into them as he watched their reaction.

Mord looked impressed.

Gwen had an eyebrow raised but didn't seem all that surprised. It appeared to Goleil that she expected the man to be able to do strange things.

Tyria was floored. She had seen how his anger disturbed the candles in his room, but she thought that was the end of the surprises. Then he almost destroyed the training grounds, and now this. Her mouth was wide open, and her eyes were like dinner plates.

Erikson seemed elated, a broad smile on his bearded face and his eyes twinkling.

No one said anything until they all began speaking at the same time.

Tyria was the first to get any word in edgewise. "Silence! What did you do, Goleil?! Was your mask always magical, or is this your doing?"

Goleil sighed. "It's the mask, and I can't control it, which is why I wanted to have a helmet fitted for me. I have no idea how it works." He said and turned to Erikson, "I'm sorry I've stolen your product. I'll do whatever I can to repay it." It was at that moment that Goleil realized he had no money and that the city was paying for his armor.

He sighed. One more debt to be repaid.

Erikson waved his hands in front of him. "Never mind that your mask or you has great taste! That is my finest work, and I'm very proud of it. I took inspiration from the legends of old for that one!" He said and chuckled.

"Well, it seems to me you won't need a helmet then. Let's get your armor. You said the cloak stays on. I'll respect that choice, but I have to ask. Will you wear it under your armor like a tabard or over your armor like a true cloak? Either way would work."

Goleil thought to himself for a second. "Does it matter other than for looks? I fought with the cloak on as it is now and experienced no troubles. Besides, my cloak is a little different from many other cloaks," He said.

"Well, one will make you look like a specter, and the other like a battle-hardened knight. The choice is yours."

Goleil raised his arms, showing how, instead of an actual cloak where the fabric wrapped around the entire body like a cacoon, he had arm holes that allowed him to maneuver better while still having his body protected by the enchantment. As the fabric had arm holes, it would also protect his upper arm.

Erikson nodded. "I can see that. Typically, one wouldn't be able to wear a cloak like a tabard, but as always, you're a particular case. Not only that, but your cloak is closed in the front."

Goleil looked down at the fabric longingly. If only he had mana, he would be able to control his cloak like he used to.

He sighed. "All the better to make a tabard with. The fabric only goes to my knees, so it shouldn't and has never disrupted my fighting style."

"Then the tabard?"

"A knight must look the part. I'll take the tabard," Goleil answered. The Sun Guard wasn't vain; he simply didn't want to be mistaken with an undead spirit during battle. He found such concerns valid.

Goleil looked down at his simple clothing. The loose-fitting shirt and pants were comfortable, and the long robe he wore over his upper body was very warm. "Will I have to get rid of this?" He said, a tinge of hesitation in his voice.

Erikson shook his head. "Clothing is expensive here; you have some excellent garments. You'll just wear them under the armor. We can also repair the cloak at our tailor shop, though, if you're willing."

"My cloak has been withheld from me twice in my life. A third time would be a disgrace." Goleil answered.

"What do you do, bathe in it?" Erikson scoffed.

"Yes."

...

It was midday by the time they had finished fitting Goleil with his armor. Instead of a full kit, he had selected a half-plate kit that included a breastplate that lay under his tabard, pauldrons, and gorget that protected his neck. The rest of his body was covered by a thickly quilted gambeson that he wore under his breastplate.

He had selected half-plate instead of full plate for one main reason. Without his mana circuits, he wasn't as fast or strong as he used to be. The Sun Guard could wear such heavy armor and move so fast because they could use mana to fuel their bodies.

Heavy armor would only slow him down without that massive advantage, and speed was a vital component of the Vrean fighting style. Thus, half-plate.

He pulled on his new leather gloves and admired himself in the mirror. Even with his torn-up cloak-tabard, he was beginning to feel like a true knight again.

All that was left to select now was a weapon.