Dromos 27 – Pyra 5, Imperial Year 1644
The Secondary Workshop, Hills Above Velathri
The dragon harvest was complete. Scales, bones, and organs had been stored or sold. The workshop smelled of smoke and cured leather. Vlad stood at his workbench, a notebook open, a charcoal pencil in his hand.
The seven knights sat around the map table, watching him. They had been waiting for the next mission, but Vlad had called them here for something else.
"You have fought well," Vlad said. "Your weapons are effective. Your armor is functional. But functional is not enough."
Hound raised an eyebrow. "You want us to be fashionable?"
"I want you to be comfortable. Confident. When you wear your gear, it should feel like a second skin." Vlad turned to face them. "I am going to ask each of you what you prefer. Colors. Fabrics. Fittings. And I will make it."
Titan crossed his arms. "I'm not wearing anything pink."
"Noted."
Hound
Vlad approached Hound first. "You are the front line. You need mobility and protection. Your current armor is adequate, but the shoulders bind when you raise your sword."
Hound shrugged. "I've gotten used to it."
"You should not have to." Vlad made a note. "What color?"
"Dark grey. Or black. Nothing flashy."
"The cloak?"
"Hooded. Waterproof. And no cape – I don't want anything grabbing my sword arm."
Vlad nodded. "The shield is fine. But I will add a leather cover to reduce noise."
Hound smiled – a rare expression. "You think of everything."
"I try."
Sparrow
Sparrow leaned against the wall, her bow across her knees. "I need quiet. No creaking leather, no clinking metal."
"Already accounted for. I will use waxed linen and felt padding." Vlad studied her stance. "You draw with your right shoulder. The left side of your armor can be lighter."
"I'd like a hood that doesn't block my peripheral vision."
"A short hood, then. Or a cowl." Vlad wrote. "Color?"
"Green. Dark green. Like the forest."
"And your bow?"
"The compound is perfect. But the string wears faster than I'd like."
"I will make you spare strings. Waxed silk, double‑twisted."
Sparrow nodded. "Thank you."
Rook
Rook adjusted his spectacles. "I'm not a fighter. I don't need armor that makes me look like a soldier."
"You need protection that does not hinder your movement." Vlad pulled out a sketch. "A padded jack, light as linen, with steel plates sewn into the chest and back. You will not feel them."
"And the color?"
"Grey. Unremarkable. You are an analyst. You should not stand out."
Rook smiled. "I appreciate that."
"The gauntlet? Any changes?"
"The darts are effective. But the reload is slow. Could you make the magazine larger?"
Vlad considered. "Three darts is the limit for the spring size. I could make a second gauntlet for your right hand."
"That would be useful."
Vlad added a note. "Two gauntlets. Six darts."
Lynx
Lynx sat on a crate, her grappling hook in her lap. "I need to be silent. No armor is better than bad armor."
"You will wear a reinforced leather vest. It will stop a knife. And cloth pants with steel thread woven in – light, flexible, cut‑resistant."
"Colors?"
"Black. Dark blue. You move at night."
Lynx nodded. "The grappling hook works well. But the rope tangles sometimes."
"I will replace it with braided silk. Stronger, smoother."
"And the throwing knives?"
"I will make you a belt with magnetic sheaths. No noise when you draw."
Lynx's eyes widened. "Magnetic?"
"A rare earth metal. I have a small supply."
She grinned. "Now you're talking."
Titan
Titan stood, his massive frame blocking the light. "I need armor that fits. Everything I've ever worn is too small in the shoulders and too loose in the waist."
"I will measure you personally." Vlad walked around Titan, taking notes. "You will have full plate, but articulated. No solid breastplate – segmented, like a lobster."
"And my hammer?"
"The head is fine. The handle is too short for your reach. I will lengthen it by six inches and add a leather grip."
Titan cracked his knuckles. "What about a helmet? I hate helmets."
"A sallet. Open‑faced, with a visor that flips up. You will forget you are wearing it."
"Color?"
"Dark steel. No polish. You do not need to shine."
Titan laughed. "I like you, Zero."
"Do not get emotional."
Phantom
Phantom stood in the shadows, barely visible. "I need nothing."
"You need everything." Vlad walked toward him. "Your cloak is too long. It catches on doorways. I will make you a short cloak, split at the back, with weighted edges so it falls straight."
"And my blades?"
"The wrist mechanisms are reliable. But the release is loud. I will replace the springs with a quieter alloy."
Phantom was silent for a moment. "The mask?"
"You do not wear a mask. You prefer the hood. That will not change."
"Good."
Vlad made a note. "Anything else?"
"A smoke pellet that activates on impact, not on a fuse."
"I will work on it."
Phantom faded back into the shadows.
Eagle
Eagle sat by the map table, his spyglass in hand. "I need to see far and move fast. Armor is a burden."
"You will wear a light jack – leather and chainmail. No plates. And a helmet that does not restrict your vision."
"The spyglass is good. But I would like a smaller one for my pocket."
"A folding spyglass. I will make it."
Eagle smiled. "And a signal mirror that doesn't break when dropped?"
"Tempered glass. It will not break."
"Color?"
"Green and brown. Camouflage."
Eagle nodded. "You've thought about this."
"I have thought about all of you."
Pyra 5, Imperial Year 1644
The Workshop – First Fittings
Over the next week, Vlad worked. He measured, cut, sewed, forged. The steam engine hummed day and night. The alchemical bulbs never dimmed.
One by one, the knights returned for fittings.
Hound's new armor was dark grey, the shoulders reinforced with steel, the cloak hooded and silent. He moved through a practice kata without restriction.
"Better," he said.
Sparrow's green cowl and waxed linen jerkin allowed her full range of motion. The new bowstring was smooth as silk.
"Perfect," she said.
Rook's padded jack fit like a second shirt. The twin gauntlets were lighter than he expected.
"I could get used to this," he said.
Lynx's reinforced vest and steel‑thread pants were silent. The new grappling hook rope coiled without tangling.
"I'm keeping this," she said.
Titan's segmented plate articulated with each movement. The longer hammer handle gave him an extra foot of reach.
"Now I'm dangerous," he said.
Phantom's short cloak fell straight, the weighted edges preventing snags. The new wrist blades clicked silently.
"Acceptable," he said.
Eagle's light jack and folding spyglass fit in his pocket. The tempered glass mirror did not break when he dropped it.
"You're a craftsman," he said.
Vlad stood at the workbench, his hands stained with oil and leather dye.
"You are Black Knights," he said. "You should look like it."
The seven knights gathered around him.
"What's next?" Hound asked.
Vlad pointed to the map. "There is a slave mine in the south. Or a counterfeit ring in the east. Or a corrupt lord in the north."
"Pick one," Titan said.
Vlad looked at them – not as tools, but as partners.
"We decide together."
The knights exchanged glances. Then they smiled.
End of Chapter Forty