It was easy to stand back and admire my work, the satisfaction of a job... well I wasn't yet sure how well it had been done. Things seemed to be going well, but really the whole reason I was here was to check on this.

In the courtyard Ian and a friend of his were sparring, spears flashing forwards at speed. These of course were training weapons, and not properly sharp, but they felt like the real thing, and the guards liked to practice with them. While the other guard was wearing little more than the leather clothing so common here my friend was instead covered in a few simple pieces of armor, the lamellar plates cracking once as he was struck.

“How's it feel?” I asked as the two finished up.

“Not bad, but there's definitely some movement restriction,” Ian answered. “Parts of the back just aren't bending like they should, and I think the front bit is a bit too wide in places. I can fight, but it's not great.”

“Luckily some of that is easy to fix,” I responded, looking over where he'd indicated.

I wasn't surprised, as even getting it to this point had been a bit of a chore. Never before had I made armor, so there were just bits I didn't know. The human, or in this case elven, body wasn't just flat, it needed to bend and twist, particularly around the limbs, and armor hindered that. Perhaps I could never get it down to the level that it was perfect, but I could at least get it better.

“The real question is will it protect him?” Ian's friend asked.

“I brought a few plates, why don't we set them up and test?” I suggested, having anticipated this to be the next step. Preparedness would keep people from doing foolish things, like testing the armor while he was wearing it, or draped over something else.

The extra bits I'd brought were about a foot wide in either dimension, and made the same as the armor. Quickly we added them to one of the practicing posts, a construction sunk in the ground and made out of tied together rushes. Then the striking began.

Spears were first thrown at the armor piece, then stabbed into it. These tests seemed to the liking of the men involved and soon other weapons of wood and stone were brought out. Knives and small blades did little, as expected, and it even held up well against heavier weapons like clubs and hammers. One after one, guards came and laid into it, pieces chipping and breaking a bit, but never fully shattering.

“Holds up,” one of the guardsmen commented with a nod. “At least to normal stuff.”

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There was a collective smile as more weapons were brought to the fore. This time the actions were repeated, but with significantly more power. Men used their small amounts of magic to hurl or stab into the armor, and the damage soon began to show.

I was still pretty satisfied, my creation holding up well until the first wooden club impacted it. Even then they both broke, much of the force involved dissipating into the environment and shattering rather than the target itself.

We all stood back, each taking our turn to look at the destruction.

“I want one,” came the voice of the man who'd been fighting Ian earlier.

“Should work against those not using their power, and even lesser beasts. Probably wouldn't do much for a stronger one, but even then it might save your life,” another agreed.

I myself was looking over the damage to everything involved. Most of the weapons had been turned because the blades were just poor. A stone blade was, by necessity, rather poor at holding an edge, the sharpened bit apt to shatter. It looked like most of the spears and knives had done just that against the shell. If you got hit with a hammer or something you'd probably still break ribs, but it even looked like some of those had skidded away until the real strength had been brought to the fore.

In the end my testing plate was broken, but even then parts of it could decidedly be salvaged. That was one of the benefits of this kind of armor, even if it failed, not all of it was gone. I could easily take the remaining plates and reuse them. Some might be a little weaker, but that was probably fine...

“So, what are you selling them for?” one of the guards asked me.

“No clue yet, need a better source of materials,” I explained, trying to avoid their clearly hungry eyes.

“Well if you need help...” Ian began.

“Yeah, I'd like one of those idiots out West start something.” That was an odd comment from one of the assembled warriors, and my look must have alerted him.

“Rumors that they're doing a lot of training and moving around. Nothing concrete, but Atal and their ancient don't get along,” he commented with a shrug.

“None of the ancients get along,” one of them said with a shake of his head.

“Hate to break it to you, but even that armor won't save you if an ancient decides you need to die,” Ian added.

“Never said it would, but against another soldier, maybe.” They went back and forth for awhile, each having their own opinion on the matter.

Something about that pricked on my nerves, my family lived in the west. Perhaps I could send them a message even if I couldn't return myself, tell them they could come to Atal. There was no post in this world, but if I caught a merchant heading that way I could decidedly get him to carry word along. I even knew a few that ran that route, all very interested in bringing copper around.

My thoughts kept on that track for quite awhile, hands and body continuing what I was doing. It wasn't until we all split that someone spoke to me.

“You okay?” Ian asked as he walked beside me.

“Yeah, why?” I asked as I tripped, not sure what had hit for for a second.

“Because you just stepped in a bush,” he laughed as I tried to extricate myself.

“Just thinking about home, after what they said about the troubles in the West. Is there that much of a problem though?” I asked as I pulled myself from the branches and leaves.

Ian thought. “Things are different out there. The land rises into valleys and mountains, and that's where Atal's territory ends. On the other side of them though things are different. It's very flat, and very dry, there are few large trees, and the beasts are different. Well, at least that's what my grandfather said, though I don't think even he's been over there.”

“Maybe if they're getting restless I should send for my family,” I mused, wanting his opinion.

“Might be a risk either way. Travel is dangerous, but I don't think anything will happen for a few years yet, ancients move slow most of the time. Even if they're restless why would they harm anyone in a small village though? Not much out there but woods and trees.”

“Maybe... I'll see if I can find a messenger though,” I said, not willing to inform him that there was at least one odd thing there.