The night ca and went very quickly. Argrave and Anneliese spent a lot of ti together, but they seldom did so while doing nothing more than enjoying each other’s company. In this manner, the joining ceremony was a precious opportunity that reminded him of the good fortune he’d had in eting her. Argrave had been complaining about not having a proper wedding, but by the morning he ca to realize that this was a far nicer way to celebrate than with expensive pageantry and large groups of people obsessing over the two of them.
They returned in the morning. The Veidin warriors were eating their rations—salted at constituted the bulk of that. They were big and fierce, but that ant they ate nearly twice as much as a normal person to maintain that strength. Galamon had assured Argrave that these n were used to dealing with food shortages and foraging, but it still elicited so concern.
After so ti to eat of their own, Argrave and Anneliese rejoined with Orion and then t with the patriarch once again. He was with Rowe and Galamon in his tent, dismantling so equipnt to pack for their journey back.
“Congratulations,” were Dras’ first words to them as he deconstructed a chair. “The two of you are now husband and wife. Dare I ask what vows you made?”
“Well…” Argrave scratched his ear. “We made a lot of them. Couple hundred, maybe.”
Anneliese laughed quietly in rembrance of last night.
Dras gave confused glances between the two of them, but he prudently shook his head and dismissed it. “Then we’ll be going. The n I promised are yours—the rest will be sailing back to Veiden today.”
“I’m thankful for your support. These n will be well-utilized.” Argrave nodded, then turned his head to Rowe. “And I appreciate your refinent of my A-rank ascension. I think the next ti we et, you’ll be very surprised.”
“Hmm, sure.” Rowe nodded. “I think you’ll still be dragging your feet when next we et. Or maybe I’ll be looking down at a corpse in a coffin. That would be a little less surprising than your success. Your ascension is an active body reformation—those are the most dangerous kind, you realize. Not many of those are discovered… without incident.”
“I’ve gotten advice from so many people, it’d be embarrassing if I failed,” Argrave shook his head. “And besides, I’ll be doing it in a place that minimizes my risk.”
“Ah, yes. The classic coward’s tactic: take risks only when it’s not risky.” Rowe nodded knowingly. “If you succeed, though…” the old S-rank wizard shook his head, eyes a little wide. “I’ll have to make far fewer jokes at your expense.”
“I question if that day will ever truly co.” Argrave shook his head, and then stepped up to Galamon. “I think it’s ti you introduce to those officers so we can get on the road.”
“Co,” Galamon said, stepping past Argrave.
Along the way, Galamon explained what he’d promised to the day before: naly, the situation in Veiden. It was more or less as Argrave expected it to be. Fear and panic were high, and the problem was exacerbated by occasional assaults of things that fell under the waxing influence of Gerechtigkeit. The sa thing prevailed here in Berendar, too, though Veiden was being hit harder—perhaps it was because of their unity, or perhaps there were simply more things for Gerechtigkeit to throw at the Veidin.
Eventually, they entered into the officer’s tents. The three of them in question knelt on the ground, cleaning up the last of the interior of their tent. When Galamon and Argrave entered, they rose and ca to attention. Though uniform in equipnt, they all looked a little different.
“This is Bastal.” Galamon gestured towards a white-haired, white-eyed man. He was the smallest of the three and kept his hair long yet bound into a ponytail. “That’s Grimalt.” The next was a shaven man with amber eyes—the largest of the three, standing taller and wider than even Orion. “And then Rasten.” The last was a lithe man with golden eyes and hair. He reminded Argrave of Durran, and not from eye color alone. “Each of these three command a unit of one hundred.”
Galamon looked at the n. “You will call him Your Majesty,” he inford them, then pointed at Anneliese. “And her, Your Highness.”
“Yes, sir,” the n confird in bold unison.
Galamon nodded. “In ti, I’ll return as knight-commander. For now, you answer to the king and queen first, and this man second.” He looked at Orion.
“They seem like good fighters,” Orion said, voice echoey from behind his golden helt.
“And spellcasters,” Argrave noted. “Dras went far beyond what I asked.”
“They’re B-rank, all three. They stagnated there,” Galamon nodded. “I may have insisted Dras allow to choose them in particular.”
Argrave smiled and stepped closer. “I’m going to ask a lot of you. Not just you three, but each and every man beneath you. If you know the prophecy, then you know what cos. And if you know what cos, then you’ll know that what we have is insufficient to fully contest who you know as He Who Would Judge the Gods. You’re going to have a large number of n beneath your command, in ti. Not only that, but they’ll all be fresh—you’ll have to bring them from the ground to the skies.”
“We’re prepared, Your Majesty,” answered Bastal, quickest to adapt.
“I hope so,” Argrave nodded. “Tell —what do you think about fighting Galamon?”
The three of them hesitated, saying nothing. Gradually, Grimalt managed to say, “He’s unbeatable.”
“Even with magic?” Argrave pressed.
“If he has Ebonice, almost definitely unbeatable, Your Majesty,” Rasten confird. “The man’s a fish in water compared to a baby in the sea. As a matter of fact, I’d prefer to be a baby against a fish than fight against Galamon.”
Argrave spread his arms out. “So of that is him. But so of that is this, also.” Argrave tapped Galamon’s armor.
Galamon crossed his arms, nodding.
“We’re going to be heading to a place called the Bloodwoods. But first, we need to make a stop at a city called Relize. Each and every one of you are going to be sized for new armor. It enhances your physical prowess, wards you from lesser attacks. And then… I think you’ll find Galamon a little less unbeatable.”
The three looked at him stoically even despite his uplifting words. Disciplined, professional, stoic—these n exuded the sa qualities that Galamon did. It was precisely what he needed to make the sort of force that he wanted.
“Tell the n to gather their things and prepare to march,” Argrave directed them.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” they replied asynchronously, then gathered so things efficiently and stepped outside.
Once they were gone, Orion said cautiously, “I think it will be impossible to find enough large horses to carry these n. Preparing one for you and I and a few others—certainly, it’s manageable, but… three hundred? Few horses are bred stalwartly enough.”
Argrave stepped towards the tent’s flap, parting it. Once outside, his eyes wandered the camp. Grimalt barked out an order. And then… it was like a beehive co alive. Their tents could house five, and each group of five worked with startling efficiency to prepare for travel. In one minute, all the fur lining was gone. In the second, everything within was stowed away. In the next, the wooden constructions were dismantled. By the fourth, they were packing these materials away into backpacks. And before the fifth minute passed, all three hundred stood arrayed. A vast plain lay empty where the camp had been.
Galamon and Anneliese watched with pride, and Argrave looked at Orion. “Sothing tells that won’t matter much.”
Orion looked back. Even the tent they’d just been in monts ago was gone, stripped and packed away. Argrave was very much looking forward to seeing them pitch these tents.
#####
They parted for Relize not too long after the n had finished preparing—funnily enough, it took longer for Argrave’s party to prepare than it did the troops. After saying a final farewell to Galamon, they left at midmorning. Along the way, Anneliese and Argrave discussed how best to utilize these new elven forces to build up the army he envisioned. Having the snow elves’ disciplined coordination perate his army would be a greater boon than one hundred thousand n.
Their troop was received by Ansgar Dandalan on behalf of his father, Leopold. Once there, a great many of Elenore’s n were ready and waiting to receive the Veidin. They took their asurents, wrote down nas, and then prepared to send those into Dirracha. There, the royal smiths would reforge royal knights’ gear into armor that fit them. For practicality, Argrave requested that the armor not be ridiculous and shiny gold. Orion didn’t like this, but unfortunately for him he’d abdicated to Argrave and so was not king.
Argrave oversaw things for a little while, ensuring that the Veidin would be taken care of here in Relize in way of food and such. Rather than disturb the citizenry, he commanded that they pitch their tents outside the city. He intended to join them to build the beginnings of camaraderie. But first…
“Elenore sent sothing for you both, Your Majesty, Your Highness, alongside a report,” Ansgar inford Argrave and Anneliese after a while. “It wasn’t urgent, so I refrained from imdiately telling you. Still, I think you should see it.”
After blanking for a few monts, Argrave placed what she might’ve sent and smiled. “Right, right. Let’s see it, then.”
Argrave followed Ansgar into the city with Orion as his escort, heading towards Leopold’s estate by the river. Once there, they were led into a side room.
“Leopold around?” Argrave questioned.
“I believe so, Your Majesty. Shall I get him for you?” Ansgar gestured towards the door.
“No, no,” Argrave waved his hand, looking towards the table as Anneliese walked towards it. She picked up a breastplate and held it up in the air. As she examined it, he pressed, “These are the items?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ansgar confird. “Shall I send for soone to help you wear these?”
“I think that Anneliese and I can take care of it,” Argrave said, waving Ansgar away. “Thank you. You can go now. Orion, please wait outside the door.”
The prince nodded, stepping out alongside Ansgar. Once the door was shut, Argrave walked up to stand beside Anneliese.
“They are rather pretty,” she said, looking at them.
“Pretty?” Argrave watched her, then looked to the armor on the table.
Argrave’s leather armor made in Jast had served him very well throughout his journey—served Anneliese, too. Both of them might be dead without it. Even still, it was only made to modern enchanting standards, and thus far inferior to salvaged elven gear that the royals worked with. Elenore was going to redy this rather simply, but in an unexpected turn of events, Artur, a Magister of the Order, had offered to add his own personal enchantnts to the gear atop the elven enchantnts of old.
Needless to say, this made Argrave paranoid at first. From what he recalled, Artur had argued vehently against Vasquer’s equal cooperation with the Order. asures were taken, however—Castro personally monitored the process of making the gear. Anneliese even verified Artur’s sincerity. With those two assurances, Argrave let it happen.
Artur was the best enchanter in all of Heroes of Berendar, barring an enchantnt-focused player. He knew a few old elven thods, even—lore dictated he’d discovered them on his own, entirely independent of their civilization. The man had promised a very appealing piece of armor, and Argrave couldn’t deny him.
This new armor was not too far removed from what Argrave worked with last ti. It was two sets of leather—one black, one gray. The gray one was heavier, the black lighter. They both had heavy, fur-lined dusters. Beyond the fact they were fully repaired, Argrave saw much more tal at points—this was to accommodate the new enchantnts, no doubt, as leather couldn’t carry magic as well as tal. The most significant addition was a large tal breast plate.
Argrave could see the magic pulsing along the tallic armor’s surface. The front of the plate was indented intricately with his personal heraldry—a sun with eight rays, the four on the cardinal directions ending in snake heads. It was a dark, brassy color. As Anneliese said, the magic made the breast plate look rather beautiful.
“Hmm…” Argrave picked it up.
“Would you help put it on?” Anneliese looked at him.
Argrave looked at the armor, then at her. “No. I’ll wear it first, test dummy it.”
Anneliese scoffed but listened. He removed his clothes, putting on the new black leathers first and then the breastplate over it. Anneliese had to help him with that part, naturally. Last was the duster. Argrave rolled his arms about once it was all in place—at once, he felt so difference. When he jumped, it was much higher than he rembered.
“Damn. Watch on the b-ball court,” Argrave noted, kicking his legs outward and inward. “I feel pretty powerful.”
Anneliese threw sothing at his face. Argrave flinched involuntarily, yet nothing struck him. He saw what she’d thrown rebounded, cast to the ground harmlessly.
“What was that for?” he demanded.
“It seems Artur’s enchantnts are in place.” Anneliese picked up what she’d thrown—an acorn of so kind. She threw it again. Argrave didn’t flinch this ti—wind manifested, batting the projectile aside. “Amazing. I wonder how it works…” she mused, stepping up and examining her own piece. She looked back at Argrave after a mont. “It seems we are a little better equipped than we were. And Artur’s to thank.”
Argrave looked down at his armor in wonder. “Looks that way,” he agreed. “I wonder what else is on this thing…?”
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