CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND TWENTY-NINE - ARMOUR UP

“You’re going to fall off if you keep hanging over the edge,” Amaryllis cautioned.

I looked at the rail I was leaning on, and how rickety it seemed, and decided that maybe Amaryllis was right. I’d been enjoying looking down, my head poking over the edge so that I could take in as much of Wallwatch as I could.

The ground was so far below!

We’d been higher aboard the Beaver, of course, but that was different somehow. The Beaver was flying. Right then, we were just at the top of a very large building. It was a whole lot more intimidating.

“The view’s nice,” I said.

“I’m sure,” Amaryllis said. “I’m all done. We should be fine as long as we leave before sunset.”

We were waiting next to a small tower at the end of the docks. It was a strange little building, made of tin and designed to look a bit like a lighthouse. A really misplaced lighthouse.

I clapped my hands. “Alright! Where do we adventure to next?” I asked.

“Ah, I think we should get fuel,” Awen said. “It’s the most important thing right now. And after that, if we have time, I would like to visit an armourer.”

“An armourer?” I asked.

Awen looked down a little, fingers twinning together. “Yes? I think I could use some armour, maybe?”

“Armour would be a good investment,” Amaryllis said. “We don’t need you getting hurt, and with your skills as a mechanic, I’m certain you’d be able to maintain it well enough. You could afford to get something more complex than unmoving plate.”

“Let’s go shopping!” I declared.

“After we get fuel,” Amaryllis said.

I rolled my eyes, and then grinned as her feathers started to poof in indignation. “I’m not dumb,” I said. “I know we need fuel first.”

“I question that every moment I spend with you,” she said. “And don’t roll your eyes at me! It’s ill-mannered.”

Laughing, I bounced ahead of my friends, half-turning once I was a few paces ahead. “Come on, I don’t know where to buy fuel from!”

There wasn’t exactly a fuel store, or a gas station for that matter. Amaryllis asked around, and we were directed to a building one level down. That meant taking a circular staircase down from the docks and to a level of the city filled with lots of workshops and more industrial businesses. There weren’t any shops like I was familiar with here. Just local crafters selling things from their workplaces.

The fuel depot wasn’t too far off, a little office next to a hole where big tanks were suspended. Hoses stuck out of them, one leading into a cart with a much smaller tank on the back.

I followed Amaryllis in, and found it to be a cramped little place, just a front desk with a mana-powered fan squeaking away on it. It smelled like peppers and oil, and the man behind the counter wore a stained jerkin.

Amaryllis led the negotiations, because she could be mean in a way that I just couldn’t manage. I’d probably just accept the first offer made and be happy with that.

It took a few minutes, but in the end Amaryllis and the man shook, albeit reluctantly, and we were told that as soon as the last delivery of fuel was done, we’d be next.

“So,” I said as we stepped back out. It was strange to be outside during midday, and yet not be out in the sun. The layer above wasn’t fully covered, so it left big spots of sunlight along the walkways and streets, but even bigger shadow-y spots lingered too. “We have a couple of hours, then?”

“We do,” Amaryllis said.

Bastion shifted his shoulders, obviously waiting for us to pick out something to do, since he didn’t seem to mind any. “In that case, we should find Awen some armour! And you too, Amaryllis.”

“Me?” the harpy asked.

“Yup. You got hurt last time too.”

“That was a slight miscalculation.”

“The next slight miscalculation could end up with you hurt again,” I said. “I don’t want to see my friends hurt at all.”

She squirmed a bit. “Armour is heavy.”

“You’re a big, strong birdgirl,” I said. “And with armour, you’ll be a big, strong, tough birdgirl.”

“Idiot.”

We had to ask for directions to an armourer. As it turned out, there was only one in all of Wallwatch. The city wasn’t all that big, more of a multi-story town than anything. It had all sorts of people from all sorts of species, but only a modest population.

It made sense. Wallwatch was about as out-of-the-way as a place could be. I imagine that it was a cool place for people that wanted to be left alone.

The armourer’s shop was on the lowest level, where instead of roads there were bridges all over, connecting homes and little plazas together. It was a decently large shop, with a big long chimney sticking out at an angle to spew smoke from the side of Wallwatch.

“Hello!” I said as I opened the front door.

I was greeted by the ringing clangs and bangs of metal on metal. My bun ears flipped back, protecting them from the noise a little.

Awen stepped up and started to give the place a tour. There was armour on racks, and more piled up on shelves along the walls. Not that many though, the entire storefront was small and confined, and with all four of us it was even tighter. We couldn’t even keep each other at more than arm’s length without bumping into the walls.

The hammering paused, and someone poked their head in. A grenoil! I hadn’t seen any grenoil in a long while. “Ah! I ‘ave clients!” he cheered. He had that distinct Deepmarsh accent, though it wasn’t as strong as some of the other grenoil I’d met. Probably he spent a lot of time away from home. “Welcome to Wilbur’s, ze best place for armour and trinkets in Wallwatch!”

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“H-hello,” Awen said with a quick courtesy that used her jacket’s hem in place of a skirt. “We’re looking for, ah, a few things.”

“Oh of course, of course,” he said as he moved to be behind his counter. It was pretty low, likely on account of grenoils not being all that tall to begin with. “I see some interesting work here. The sylph has some nice equipment there. Is that a Lukas piece?”

Bastion looked down at his armour, then back up. “You’re familiar with the royal armourer?”

“Just his work, and just wiz my eyes. The bun miss here has... zat’s from Deepmarsh?” he asked, standing a bit taller.

“It is!” I said. “Port Royal, a place called, uh.” I turned to Amaryllis and she answered with a shrug.

“I know where the shop is, not what it’s called,” she said.

“It’s good quality,” Wilbur said. “Does it need any adjusting?”

I shook my head, then gestured to Awen and Amaryllis. “My friends keep getting stabbed, so we need armour.”

Amaryllis glared. “I’m not even going to waste energy on being indignant. You’re too stupid to be worth the effort.”

Wilbur nodded while wisely pretending he didn’t hear that. “Who do we start wiz? I can make somezing custom if you give me a day or two.”

“Ah, we don’t have that much time,” Awen said. “I... I’m the one that wants something, mostly.”

Wilbur stepped around and started to walk around Awen. “I have a few things that’ll fit with just some quick changes. Not zat big are you? Is zat what you usually wear when out getting stabbed?” He gestured to how Awen was dressed.

She had a nice blouse on, with pants tucked into her boots, and of course her big blue coat over it all. “This is what I usually wear, yes.”

“Hmm. Not much. I don’t know if stuffing you in full plate would be a good idea. A... mechanic? Well, at least you’ll be able to maintain it. How about scale?”

“Scale?” Awen asked.

“Over a zin gambeson to prevent chafing,” Wilbur said. He moved back and pulled something from a shelf and held it up. It was a piece of armour, like a long shift, but made entirely of long metal scales.

“That looks a bit... much?” Awen tried.

Wilbur tossed it back. “Course! In zat case, maybe somezing zat fits a little more snug? I’ve got chain mail zat ought to fit you. Long sleeved too, with a proper gambeson under it so you should be covered fairly well.”

The armourer moved to the other side of the room and pulled out a suit of mail with a whole lot of clinking. Awen moved over and poked at it, then nodded. “I think that would be nice.”

“Wonderful! I’ll need your measurements to fit zis properly.” He tossed the mail onto his counter, then went to the back and shuffled through a rack with what looked like thickly padded clothes. “Here! Zis is new, it should adjust to you,” he said as he returned with what looked like a long-sleeved shirt that was padded here and there. Nothing as poofy as my first gambeson, but I imagined that the chain would make up for it.

“Ah, thank you,” Awen said.

“Well, put it on.”

Awen’s face changed colours a few times. “Do you have a washroom?” she asked.

Wilbur nodded, then directed her to somewhere where she could change. While she was gone, he turned his attention to Amaryllis. “You needed armour too?”

“My friends are insisting,” she said.

Wilbur tapped his chin while looking her up and down. “The coat’s leather?”

“It is.”

“Any room inside it?”

She pinched the front of her jacket. “Some? I’m hardly overweight.”

“Well zen, I have some steel inserts sitting around. Made zem for somezing else, but I’m sure I could fit zem into zat coat of yours. It would armour you up a little. Not too heavy eizer. I’d still suggest a hauberk. Maybe a zin one to wear under ze coat as well?

It didn’t take much work at all to find some armour for Amaryllis. She didn’t want her arms covered at all, because that would limit the use of her wings, so Wilbur found a mail shirt similar to the one he’d found for Awen that had a decorative edge to it. By the time Amaryllis surrendered her jacket for the grenoil to modify, Awen returned with her coat folded over an arm and her new gamberson on.

It was a deep blue, not too far from her coat, with a tall neck and just a bit of embroidery on it to pretty it up.

“Nice!” I said.

“It fits well,” Awens said.

“Good,” Amaryllis replied. “Speaking of... do you do enchantments?”

“Afraid not,” Wilbur said. “I can prepare zings for it, but you’ll need to find someone who knows zat sort of magic better zan I do.”

Wilbur told us that the modifications would take a couple of hours, so that left us standing around with nothing much to do. “Should we get lunch?” I asked.

That got everyone moving again. We told Wilbur we’d be back soon enough, and as a group, we left and started making our way up a floor, eyes peeled for somewhere to eat at.

I was expecting an inn, or a tavern, but instead we found a sort of mom-and-pop restaurant run by a couple of harpies. They specialized in breakfast food, though without any eggs on their menu.

But they did have fresh cinnamon buns!

We ate, drank (mostly fruit juice, Awen took one look at the alcohol stuff and went pale) and had a good time. It wasn’t some grand adventure, but it was fun with the people I loved the most, and sometimes that was more than enough.

***