Pyra 16 – Pyra 18, Imperial Year 1644
The Secondary Workshop, Hills Above Velathri
The workshop had grown again.
What had once been a single cavern was now a network of chambers – forges, armories, a medical bay, a mapping room, and a central hall where fifty knights could gather. The alchemical bulbs burned day and night. The steam engine hummed constantly.
The crocodile harvest had arrived in wagons: hides, bones, teeth, claws, and a massive skull. Now the work began.
Vlad stood at the center of the main forge, his Zero mask on, his cape draped over a chair. He was not piloting the Colossus today. He was supervising.
"We have one month," he said. "Then we march on the cult's final stronghold. Every piece of equipment must be ready. Every knight must be trained. No one is expendable."
Hound stood beside him. "You're worried about casualties."
"I'm worried about losing family." Vlad's voice was flat, but there was weight behind it. "We have found these people. We have protected them. We will not throw their lives away for haste. One month is adequate."
Pyra 16 – Morning
The Armory – Fitting and Banter
The armory was crowded. Knights moved between racks, adjusting straps, testing joints, complaining about fit.
Brigid, the spear‑skirmisher, was arguing with Rook.
"The left side is still too heavy," she said. "I can feel the imbalance."
Rook adjusted his spectacles. "We've lightened it twice. You're imagining it."
"I'm not imagining it. Zero said – "
"Zero said your stance was uneven. He didn't say the armor was the problem."
Brigid growled. "Then what is?"
"Your knee," Wall said, walking past. "You're still favoring it. The armor's fine."
Brigid fell silent. Wall had a way of ending arguments.
Nearby, Torvin the dwarf was helping a new heavy infantryman adjust his tower shield strap.
"Loosen it," Torvin said. "You're cutting off circulation."
"But if it's loose, the shield wobbles."
"Then strengthen your arm. The strap is for carrying, not fighting."
The younger dwarf nodded, sheepish.
Finn, the infiltrator, sat in a corner, sharpening his daggers. Kithri the cat beastfolk perched on a crate beside him, grooming her tail.
"You ever used those in a real fight?" Kithri asked.
"Yes."
"How many?"
"Enough."
Kithri's ears flicked. "You're as bad as Phantom."
"Phantom doesn't talk. I talk. Just not about that."
Sseth the lizardfolk was at the far end, testing a new set of throwing spears. His tongue flicked out, tasting the air.
"The balance is wrong," he said. "The weight is too far forward."
Echo, the analyst, made a note. "We'll adjust. Anything else?"
"The grip is slippery. Wrap it with leather."
"Noted."
Vlad walked through the armory, observing. He stopped beside Kaelen, the half‑elf archer.
"Your quiver is full?"
"Yes. Fifty arrows. Twenty bone‑tipped, thirty steel."
"And the spare?"
"On my horse."
Vlad nodded. "Good."
Pyra 16 – Afternoon
The Forge – Crafting and Camaraderie
The forge was the hottest chamber, lit by open flames and the glow of molten metal. Striker worked alongside the smiths, shaping crocodile bone into arrowheads.
"The bone is dense," Striker said, examining a finished point. "It'll punch through chainmail."
"Good," Hammer said, swinging his massive maul against a heated plate. "I want a new hammer head from the crocodile's skull."
"You always want something," Wall muttered, sharpening her sword.
"Because I always get it."
Echo sat in a corner, cataloging materials. "We have enough hide for twenty new sets of armor. The bones will make fifty arrowheads and a dozen dagger handles. The teeth…" She held up a tooth the size of her hand. "These will make excellent spear tips."
Rook looked up from his notes. "Prioritize armor for the frontliners. They take the most damage. We have a month – we can do it right."
"Already done," Echo said.
Titan entered the forge, his massive frame blocking the light. "The Colossus needs a new steam valve. The old one is leaking."
Vlad, who had been observing, nodded. "I'll repair it tonight. Anything else?"
"The chain blade needs sharpening," Titan said. "And the shield has a dent."
"A dent from a fifty‑foot crocodile. I'd call that a success."
Titan laughed. "Fair. But I want it perfect before we march. No loose ends."
"No loose ends," Vlad agreed. "We lose no one."
Wren, the gnome bomb maker, was hunched over a workbench, assembling small alchemical charges. She held one up.
"This one will blow a hole through a stone wall. But the fuse is inconsistent."
"Fix it," Vlad said.
"Working on it."
Pyra 17 – Morning
The Training Yard – Drills and Bonding
The yard behind the workshop was a muddy field ringed with straw dummies and wooden targets. The knights trained in pairs and squads.
Brigid sparred with a new skirmisher named Orin (not the prince), her spear flashing. She was faster now, her limp almost gone.
"Better," Vlad said, watching.
"I've had a month," Brigid said, dodging a thrust. "And good teachers."
Torvin led a shield wall drill. The heavy infantry locked shields, advanced, and held formation. Their movements were crisp, practiced.
"Again," Torvin shouted. "Faster."
Finn practiced climbing a sheer wall, using a grappling hook and rope. He reached the top in under a minute.
"Good," Vlad called. "Now do it with a pack. Simulate carrying supplies."
Kaelen shot at moving targets, her arrows finding each mark. Sseth tracked a hidden runner through the mud. Kithri scaled the wall without a rope, her claws finding purchase.
Phantom appeared beside Vlad, silent as always.
"The new ones are ready," Phantom said.
"Almost," Vlad replied. "Another week of drills."
"You're pushing them hard."
"I'm keeping them alive."
Pyra 17 – Evening
The Common Hall – Family Dinner
The knights gathered in the common hall for the evening meal. Mira (Wall's cousin) had cooked – a stew of venison and root vegetables, fresh bread, and honey.
The room was loud. Knights joked, argued, and laughed.
"I still think you should have let me hit the crocodile with my hammer," Hammer said.
"You did hit it," Titan replied. "It threw you across the marsh."
"I got back up."
"Barely. Another month of training and you'll keep your feet."
Sparrow sat with Striker, comparing arrowheads. "The bone tips fly straighter than steel."
"Less drag," Striker agreed. "Zero's design."
"He thinks of everything."
Phantom sat in a corner, eating in silence. Kithri sat beside him, her tail twitching.
"You never talk," Kithri said.
"No."
"Why?"
Phantom was silent for a long moment. Then he said, "Talking is noise. Noise gets you killed."
Kithri's ears flicked. "That's… actually a good point."
She stayed.
Echo and Rook argued over a ledger. "The numbers are correct," Echo insisted.
"They're not," Rook said. "You miscounted the arrowheads."
"I did not."
"You did. There are forty‑seven, not fifty. We have a month to fix it – I'll order more materials."
Echo stared at the ledger. Then she sighed. "I'll recount."
Wall sat with Mira, both of them quiet, comfortable.
"You've made friends here," Mira said.
"I've made a family," Wall replied. "And we're going to keep every one of them alive."
Vlad stood at the head of the table, his mask off for once. He looked at the fifty knights – laughing, arguing, eating.
"One more week," he said. "Then we march."
Hound raised a cup. "To family."
"To family," the room echoed.
Pyra 18 – One Month Later
The Workshop – Final Preparations
A month had passed. The forge had cooled. The training yard was trampled flat. The knights stood in formation – fifty figures in dark armor, masks gleaming, weapons ready.
Vlad stood before them, the Colossus looming behind him. Steam hissed from its vents.
"One month ago, I told you we would prepare until no one was lost. Today, I believe we are ready."
He drew his zweihander and raised it.
"The cult's final stronghold is in the mountains. They have demons. They have traps. They have numbers. But we have training. We have equipment. We have each other."
He paused.
"We are the Black Knights. We do not flee. We do not surrender. We hunt monsters so that the family we have found – the family we have protected – will not be taken from us."
The knights raised their weapons.
"For family," Hound said.
"For family," the fifty echoed.
Vlad sheathed his sword. "Move out."
The Black Knights marched into the dawn.
End of Chapter Sixty‑Five