Later that day, Archmage Theros had summoned us to the academy’s armory. The room was magnificent, with white walls and golden pillars supporting the high ceiling, which bore an extensive painting. The artwork depicted a battle on an open field between mages and soldiers clad in silver armor. A red moon hung ominously above them, casting ethereal rays over the scene and highlighting the faces of dying soldiers, etched with dread.

In front of us stood a dwarf with a black beard, a bald head, and bushy eyebrows, accompanied by four pieces of armor in front of him.

“This is Zarys Anvilforge from the great dwarven kingdom of Hammerdawn. He is our chief blacksmith. His talents are not limited to forging iron; he is the finest rune wielder this realm has ever seen!” Theros declared, causing the dwarf to blush slightly and lower his head in embarrassment.

“What exactly is a ‘rune wielder’?” Silas inquired.

“Most dwarves are natural blacksmiths; it’s ingrained in their culture. They learn the art of forging from the time they can barely stand. Their bedtime stories are not about knights and dragons, but about rocks, metals, and hammers.”

“And fire, Archmage Theros!” Zarys interjected.

“And fire,” Theros nodded. “Naturally, they are better blacksmiths than any other race, and every realm strives to have one in command. But some dwarves are different. Those born with magic in their veins are called rune wielders because they can infuse their craft with magic. They are rare, as dwarves lack a strong affinity for magic. When one is born, they are destined for greatness. It’s said that whenever a rune wielder is born, a significant change is on the horizon, for better or worse.”

“Why do you mages always turn a simple answer into a history lesson? You could’ve summed it up in a few words!” Silas exclaimed, clearly irritated by something beyond the lengthy explanation.

“I apologize, sir. Silas here never received a proper education. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be a bard, now would he?” I interjected with a smile, trying to prevent the situation from escalating. After all, Archmage Theros was the most powerful man in the Vixen’s Veil.

“Huh? Say that again, you brat!” Silas retorted.

“It is fine. If one chooses to remain in the bliss of ignorance, then it is a choice they are entitled to make,” Theros said with a smile, stroking his white beard.

“Did he just call me stupid?” Silas caught on to the old man’s subtle insult.

Fortunately, before things could escalate further, Zarys spoke up.

“These are among my proudest creations. I hope you won’t need them where you’re headed, but if trouble arises, they’ll serve you well!” Zarys spoke with excitement, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the armor before him. “I call this one The Merryman! It’s inspired by one of your songs, Mister Bard.”

“You know of The Merryman?” Silas exclaimed, barely holding back tears.

“Of course I do! The tale of the bard called The Merryman has spread far and wide. You’re the first in many years to visit the home of the fey! Staying true to that name, I made this!” the dwarf exclaimed as he handed the armor to Silas.

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Although it was more of a suit than armor. It had yellow shoulders, white sleeves, green-blue sides, and a crimson undershirt. Brown leather belts were strapped over the shoulders and across the chest. Golden buttons adorned the inner edges of the jacket. The pants were brown with golden stitching on the sides, depicting musical notes. It looked flashy, almost too flashy, but it complemented Silas’s character well.

“I made the armor from wyvern skin and used its teeth to make the buttons! I treated the skin thoroughly to make it look more like fabric, so it won’t be heavy for you to wear. The Merryman will protect you from most elements, especially fire. But beware, you’re not invulnerable. Walking through fire might be fine, but if the opponent is too powerful, it can still burn you,” Zarys warned. “But the biggest advantage this armor offers is the magic boost! Those who possess what is commonly known as bard magic are hailed as ‘jack of all trades, master of none,’ meaning you might possess all the elements, but each one is weak. This armor will strengthen them tenfold!”

“Look at all these colors! From this day forth, you will call me The Merryman!” Silas marveled at the suit’s aesthetic, ignoring all the benefits the armor provided.

“Ahem! This is the Blackrock Armor!” Zarys pointed to the heaviest piece of armor on the table. “It’s for you, Mister Orion. It’s made from Blackrock, as the name suggests. The material is rare, and few have seen it, as it’s mined from the depths of our kingdom. It’s light, contrary to what it looks like. The armor will fit you like a glove and reshape itself to your body as if it were a part of you! Blackrock is the best material to channel and amplify electricity. We use it as lanterns in our mines, but beware: the stronger your lightning, the more energy Blackrock will produce. It can harm those around you, and yes, beware of natural lightning! You might be struck during bad weather,” Zarys warned.

“I will be careful, thank you,” Orion said, grabbing the armor.

It was far simpler than Silas’s. It was literally made of pieces of black stone that shifted and changed, as if the armor were alive.

“This one I call the Lion’s Paw! It’s made for you, Miss Kaela. It’s crafted from the finest—” Zarys explained, but Kaela abruptly cut him off.

“Thank you, Mister Zarys; I don’t need to know the specifics. I’m sure it’s well built; after all, you made it.”

“Oh, well, thank you!” he smiled for a moment before his expression turned serious. “But I’ll tell you, anyway! It amplifies your physical strength, speed, and stamina. You could run for days without getting tired, from exhaustion, of course. Just remember to sleep now and then. It also absorbs most physical damage aimed at you.”

Her armor was the shiniest and most prestigious on the table. The metal chest plate was blue, adorned with golden ornaments that spread through the cracks of the metal. The shoulder plates were golden and embedded with blue crystals that emitted some kind of energy.

“And this, I call the Darkeater Armor!” Zarys pointed to armor meant for me. “This is the worst one of them all, but it is my pride and joy!”

“Why is it the worst?” I questioned.

“Because I did not know what I was doing. You’re the first avian I’ve ever made armor for! You brought me unimaginable joy, for it was the first time in a long time I made something I didn’t know how to do. I only hope you will come back alive so I can study you and make the best armor there is!”

“So, does it do anything?”

“Well, I designed it so the edges are sharp; it should cut through the air nicely and increase your flight speed. Also, it’s made from Velum steel, the hardest of the light metals; it’s resistant to most types of damage, but it doesn’t excel at any damage type. Because of the metal’s nature, I made it so the armor self-regenerates over time, as it will break after a tough battle or two,” he said, staring at me, as if making a whole new diagram in his head.

“It will do. Thank you, Master Zarys.”

The armor was black with hints of dark blue. It had a golden ornate belt and golden sides that seamlessly blended with the dark blue chest plate. The golden shoulder plates resembled feathers, with the metal being extremely thin and flexible at the ends; the arm guards shared the same color. From the belt down, a cape, or some sort of fabric, hung loose.

With this, we geared up and headed for the ceremony.