…..:::::|. Havvenchael Seventh Sector .|:::::…..

Halycind saw, as they rounded toward the city center, the armourer’s gallery that she now read as 'The Tooth & Nail'. Seemed fitting, as she'd fought the white beast tooth and nail. She told her friends to wait for her return as she handled a small bit of business.

She walked upon the flamboyant man, looking exuberantly healthy, and he naught recognized her. She waited almost impatiently as he barked out many more spiels for the onlookers. In his odd glances down to the pretty one with two braids, she smiled as she forced her will and felt the wolf well up her gut until it flushed her face. He jolted in remembrance as he saw her eyes glow with amber. He burst a grin, “You yet live! And strongly I see.” There was a deliberate flirtatiousness to his tone.

“I do.”

“Then I have something for you.”

She spread a gleefully fangy grin and allowed him to help her onto the riser and back toward the gallery. He instructed her to head down the first set of stairs she saw.

She descended them.

It was dark here and smelled of many animal's skins. She heard an odd whistling mimicking the songs of the troubadours outside. The large long cellar forge was cluttered about its dirt floor with instruments and mannequins and barrels and ingots and pelts on pelts of animal skins. There was also an incredible array of dyes and pigments in bored out slots along the length of the farthest wall. When she laid eyes on the middle most mannequin, amidst a slew of others, her entire jaw hung loose. He, the assistant who had recognized her race, was pulling the very metal from the creature's white skin, with Stainpull tools.

“Of the many reasons why one has never been killed, the biggest is that they have a heavy development of silver in their hides.” He began as if he knew she was in the room, “It is what causes slashes to slide from their backs and their simple impacts to become crushing gores.” He paused for her to resume her breath. Had he been the master Stainpull and armourer all along? “You, now have your would-be-assailant's benefits. I should say that is cause for boasting in song, wouldn't you?”

“That, I would.” She agreed in hesitated amazement, still stunned by both this man's skill and his artifice. She suddenly realized with the actuality of this armour here, that she really had done something exceptional. This used to be a creature that, by no stretch of the imagination, had killed her. She lie in an infirmary for nearly all of May Rising recovering from its near murder of her. Her eyes ran along the strings and finger-gauges from the syringes he had stuck into the sides of the brigandine, so to pull the silver in its skin out into careful shapes. She questioned the sharp familiar design emblazoned there on the back.

“Split-Wolf Heraldry instead of the CloseKings' standard?” Her breath was still rocky.

“You said edge.”

“That I did.” Halycind’s whole chest was filling with awe and pride.

She pointed at a disk in the center of her country's silver insignia.

“And that is?”

He stopped his meticulous pulling to walk across the forge. And in all of his nonplussed expression, he tossed one of his own forged blades toward the mannequin. The disc in the insignia's center drew it from its flight broadside on to its face. “The magnetics for your Agency blade...when you get it.”

Halycind held her mouth as if words could have even escaped were her hand not there.

“See, it's also on swivel.” He walked back over to rotate the blade with his finger just slightly. “I'll bet even your Exemplariat will envy that.”

A stupefied half-grin started to pull itself across her face into a full on fangy drawing laugh. She tried to calm her exuberance. “Will it take to a camouflager?”

“That and flame resist. Here look there are slots for all your vials and for your internal coolings.”

“In the lining?! Wow.”

“Yes, well, Ghostgale hide offered me much inspiration.”

She looked from him back to it many times.

“All the elements of silver are on the outermost layer. There is an inner layer to insulate you from lightning’s charge. Also, your trousers have silver reinforcements in the vital areas where your blood vessels are most vulnerable; much like a knifehand's leather reinforcements in their armour. It will be very hard to bleed you wearing this.”

She could feel her amazement even to the tips of her two braids. “When I bring you more, who shall I ask for...discreetly of course?”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Name's Arald Dekai Hagoniel. Those who hail from Ashok know me as--”

“Strider!” She took several massive steps back from him and almost dropped into a whimper of awe. “You’re Taphsel’s student. You’re the one he loved the most. The only one who could fill his shoes.”

“See now you’re on like the rest of them. No one can fill Taph’s shoes. Especially not me.” His chin nodded toward her thighs. “You carry his tools though.”

“I wouldn't have them if he’d—”

“I understand, but they’re clearly in very good hands, apparently.”

“He spoke so highly of you.” Her face jut in so close to him as she reapproached. She fought not to wrap arms around him as he finished the fine details of the Split-Wolf insignia.

“And he, you.”

“So you knew who I was.”

“You’re a Princess of Ashok. How could I not?”

“Wait. Then what are you doing here?”

“I had a...disagreement with some...folks and needed to become someone else for a while.”

“Oh?” She grew alarmed. “Then who's the potato in front of your store?”

“That's my personal bodyguard. He's a Kaosian shapeshifter.”

She mouthed an 'o'.

“They can be a charismatic sort. Comes in handy as the face of my company.” He plucked at a few of the filaments on the finger-gauges to finish his work. He slap-dusted his hands on his thighs as he sat back and stretched his broad back. “And I live here as a simple working mage. I can blend in with crowds and walk freely, between armour-crafts, I tend to even collect our shipments from the port cities but I never venture much farther than May Island or Cloudsfall, so I'm happy.”

“Don it.” he continued.

Halycind broke from her blank stare of him and snatched happily at her frilly paneled frock. Without much regard to modesty, she donned her new skins and full armour made from the accursed creature's hide. A rush of triumph rippled through her body and she could barely contain the ecstasy of complete domination.

The one called Strider chuckled his own thoughts in agreement to her elation.

“Conquest feels good, doesn’t it, wolf.”

Only a growl exited Halycind’s chest and throat. A growl they both smiled in.

“Oh, before I forget. Two things. The Pull Order is in the inside pocket of your jerkin. I already informed the WarQueen you would deliver it personally...and then this is also yours.” He handed her a heaping white mound of soft glittering skin and fur. “Your cloak...for the cold.” It was massive, much like Percival's, and she licked happily at her fangs.

She, then, calming, held it gracefully over her royal forearm.

“And this is for you.” Halycind smiled handing him a small coin pouch full to the bursting seam.

“I said the Pull Order was the only payment.”

“Not good enough for me.”

“You’re too kind, Princess.”

He smiled and lead her as they ascended the staircase and out onto the riser. The Kaosian shapeshifter caught eye of the two and gave Strider a nod in secret.

Halycind stepped forward first, hopping off the side of the riser toward her group impatiently walking upon her. Strider followed. Percival and Ruu both rolled there heads in realization of the make of her armour. They spread smiles to the armoursmith playacting as assistant. They both instantly knew who this man was.

Kodlaa approached Halycind first with petting hands and sniffing nostrils. “White?”

“You didn't listen when I scolded that boy in Ladi Gru Has, did you?” Siin pursed, but the look on his face was wholly different. He liked her in white. Very much from what she could tell now.

“You're louder than a quake.” Kodlaa scolded.

“Wouldn't you quake if you saw me coming.” Halycind opened proudly. Siin was still staring; subtly quaking himself.

Percival tilted disapproval to the obvious make of her armour. “A little presumptuous, yes?”

She cut a sharp eye to him in challenge. If almost dying to a creature no one's ever killed before hadn't solidified her placement as an Agent, nothing would. “You see this? I giihalahtent earned it. All you have to do is put a rank on it.” She contested, with a cocky bite.

Percival nodded it off in a slow blink and had to, himself, agree with the girl's profane stance. None of them had ever done it.

She headed off passing them in the direction toward Castle Havvenchael to see the Queen. “Now let's go cook us some 'Gale arse.” She commanded as she took from Kodlaa her Carabaaniel sword and slapped it to the disc on her back. The force of the snapping pull of metals felt good to her and she let the weight of it all fill the confidence of her gait.

Kodlaa happily followed.

Siin’s body took him in her direction but his mind was full of a whole host of other things as he caught up to her. He'd made decisions before while she lay dying; decisions he hesitated to speak on. But now he was glad he hadn’t stated any of them for his Halycind was alive and well and beautiful, and soon to be his.

“You keep this fashion fare up for me and we’ll have to have those discussions much sooner.” He slid out under his breath beside her.

“Sly, you, snake. I’ll wear what I want.” She chuckled under her own.

Percival and Ruu both had already slid hot looks to the armourer standing with his fists on his hips. “What?” He was unmoved by their stares. “You thought you had a handle on your prospects...” He watched the girl in his white masterpiece be gawked at by astonished onlookers and entranced fighters as she put foot to ground as only a hunter could down into the city’s main thoroughfare. “...but now you're dealing with a wildcard.” Strider finished.

Percival and Ruu received the caution, left the man to his day with a miffed nod and ranked up with the Gale-Killer.