Back at the Hall of the Sword, Aldwyn made his way to Master Sewell's office and placed one of the scales on the table. Aldwyn explained exactly what had happened and when Master Sewell confirmed that Aldwyn had completed the contract, he handed him the reward of 180 gold. The missing 20 gold are of course the 10% that belong to the guild.
Aldwyn grabbed the coins and threw them straight into his bag. He took his leave and went into his room.
When he arrived, he took off his clothes, which were covered in dirt and blood, and threw them into the corner of the room.
He summoned the contract and the map that came with the contract from his bag. Because he didn't need either anymore, he threw them in the garbage.
„Hmm I should consider getting a full sized map that includes either the entire Iconi Empire or maybe even all 8 major Empires. That would help me..."
„Speaking of that, I might also need some proper armor that's made for combat... My normal clothes aren't good enough for that." Aldwyn thought to himself as he laid down on the bed.
....
The early morning light streamed through the windows of the Hall of the Sword, casting long shadows across the wooden floorboards. Aldwyn sat up, the events of the previous night still vivid in his mind.
He rose from the bed and made his way to the main hall, the scent of roasting meats and baking bread wafting through the corridor. His stomach growled in anticipation.
In the hall, a hearty breakfast spread was laid out on a long table—steaming porridge with a side of berries and honey, crispy bacon sizzling on a platter, eggs sunny side up with a sprinkle of fresh herbs, and thick slices of dark rye bread with a generous slab of butter. He filled his plate, savoring the sight and smell of the food. The porridge was creamy, the berries a delightful burst of sweetness against the warm oats. The bacon was perfectly crisped, the eggs' yolk running like molten gold onto the bread when pierced. He took a seat by the roaring fireplace, the warmth a comforting embrace against the chill of the early morning.
Gustav, with his blue, piercing eyes, sat down next to him. His beard was a wild, untamed thicket of red hair and his arms were as thick as tree stumps. His scars were a sign of his experience and his strength. Since the last meeting, another scar has appeared on his cheek.
"I heard you had quite the night," Gustav said, his voice gruff and gravelly from years of pipe smoking.
Aldwyn took a bite of his bacon, the fat crackling as it met his teeth. "It was...enlightening," he replied, his silver eyes flicking up to meet Gustav's gaze.
"You seem to be very experienced when it comes to combat. Do you know a place where I can find excellent armor?" Aldwyn asked him.
Gustav took a sip of his coffee, his eyes thoughtful. "Aye, I know just the place. It's called 'The Iron Maiden', the best blacksmith in Helgarde."
Aldwyn nodded, his interest piqued. "The Iron Maiden, you say? That's where I'll head to once I'm done here." He shoveled another spoonful of porridge into his mouth, the warmth spreading through his body, momentarily dispelling the chill of the morning.
Gustav leaned in, his expression shifting to one of urgency. "I will come with you, I still have a few things to do there myself. I can also get you a discount as I know the blacksmith very well."
Aldwyn nodded, appreciative of the offer. "That would be most helpful."
After breakfast, they set off towards the bustling market of Helgarde. The Iron Maiden was a well-known forge, its fiery glow visible even from a distance. The smithy's hammering resonated through the cobblestone streets, a rhythmic heartbeat to the city's chaos.
Upon entering, Aldwyn was struck by the heat and the symphony of metal clanging against metal. The air was thick with the scent of hot iron and coal. The walls were adorned with various weapons and armor, each piece a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Gustav led the way, his large frame parting the crowd like a ship through stormy seas.
The blacksmith, a burly man named Cariov, greeted Gustav with a firm handshake and a nod. His eyes flicked over to Aldwyn, assessing him in a single glance. "What can I do for you, son?" he asked, his voice booming over the din.
Aldwyn stepped forward, "I need armor that can withstand the battles I face. Something that won't hinder my speed or agility."
Cariov looked him over, then nodded. "You've come to the right place. I have a set that's been waiting for someone like you. It's made of mithril and enchanted to be as light as a whisper. It won't hold you back." He pointed to a rack in the corner, where a sleek suit of armor gleamed under the forge's glow.
The mithril armor was a work of art, each piece interlocking perfectly, the metal shimmering with an unearthly light. The helm was adorned with a crimson plume that matched the tints in the metal, the visor a silver grin that promised protection without compromise. The pauldrons were shaped like the wings of a bat, lending an air of menace to the wearer. The chestplate had intricate engravings of serpents that looked alive, slithering over the wearer's heart. The gauntlets and greaves were like second skin, the boots ending in sharp points that could serve as weapons in themselves. The cuirass was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, the abdomen guarded by overlapping scales that reflected the firelight like a dragon's belly.
Yet, as much as Aldwyn admired the set, he knew it wasn't suitable for his line of work. The armor was too flashy, too noticeable. His style was the shadows and silent strikes, not a grand entrance that announced his presence with the clatter of metal.
"I need something less... ostentatious," Aldwyn said, his gaze lingering on the mithril armor. "I require something that will allow me to blend in more effectively. The shadows are my true shield."
Cariov nodded in understanding, his expression revealing a hint of respect for Aldwyn's preference for stealth. "Ah, I see," he said, stroking his beard. "Follow me."
They moved to a back room, where racks of armor were shrouded in darkness. Cariov pulled back a tarp, revealing a set of blackened leather armor. It was unassuming, yet the stitching and the subtle gleam of the metal buckles spoke of its quality. "This is what you need," he said.
The leather was as supple as the skin of a newborn fawn, yet it was reinforced with a weave of dark steel threads. The cuirass was designed to mimic the shadows themselves, its surface dappled with an array of indistinct shapes that danced and shifted with the light. The pauldrons were shaped like the folded wings of a raven, the gauntlets ended in sharp, curved talons that could tear through flesh and bone as easily as a bird of prey. The greaves were slim, allowing for silent movement and swift strikes, while the boots had been crafted for silent steps and deadly precision.
"This is... perfect," Aldwyn murmured, reaching out to touch the leather. It was cold, almost lifeless to the touch, yet it thrummed faintly with an energy that resonated with his own. It was as if the armor had been waiting for him, yearning for the embrace of its rightful wearer.
Cariov grunted in approval. "I knew you had the eye for it," he said, as he helped Aldwyn into the armor. The leather molded to his form like a second skin, the steel threads pulsing gently against his body as if alive. Each piece fit perfectly, as if tailored just for him.
"This is excellent," Aldwyn said, testing his range of movement. He performed a series of quick, fluid motions—spinning, ducking, and lunging. The armor barely whispered as he moved, the talons on his gauntlets glinting in the light.
Gustav watched, nodding in approval. "It suits you, like a cloak of night," he said, his eyes gleaming. "And the price is more than fair for such a piece."
Aldwyn turned to Cariov. "How much?"
Cariov's eyes flickered over the armor, his gaze lingering on the steel threads before returning to meet Aldwyn's. "For such a piece, made to order with the finest materials and enchanted for stealth and protection, the usual price would be 1,500 gold pieces."
„Shit... I don't have enough with me."
Gustav stepped in and asked, " Could you give him a small discount? He's an honorable member of the Hall of the Sword and a colleague of mine."
Cariov considered the request, then nodded. "As a token of friendship, I'll drop the price to 1200 gold pieces. It's the best I can do."
Aldwyn nodded and accepted the offer, taking off the armor and explaining to the blacksmith that he would have to collect the sum from the bank. Fortunately, there was a bank just around the corner and after the usual security procedures, Aldwyn's authenticity was confirmed and he withdrew 1000 gold from his account.
When he returned, he handed the blacksmith the 1200 gold. This left Aldwyn with 6000 gold in his bank account, 340 gold and 93 silver in his bag.
The transaction complete, Cariov handed over the leather armor with a firm nod. "Take good care of it, lad. It'll serve you well."