A Soldier's Life-Chapter 188: Getting Fitted

Descending the stairs to the lower floors of the War College Tower, I got a lot of stares for my filthy state. I ignored them and almost turned around for my sword to belt it, but then I would have to spend time unwrapping the weights I meticulously added to it. I planned to use it every day, and rewrapping it would waste time. I had my legion short sword that I secretly pulled from my space and strapped on.

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Each floor of the massive conical tower housed classrooms, small libraries, offices, and rooms for practicing spellcraft. One in four had a class being conducted. I reached the ground floor and entered the courtyard, following the paths toward the gate for the Imperial Palace Grounds. The four legionnaires in polished red lacquered armor looked me over dubiously.

The oldest of the group, with a well-trimmed silver beard and an aged-lined face, moved to stop me. I held up the scroll with the seal, “I have business with the Imperial Legion armorers.”

His eyes traveled over me, assessing me, and his distaste was evident on his face. He took the scroll, his face twisting further as he broke the seal and read it. His jaw tightened as he looked at me again, “Is this how the Chancellor’s legionnaire presents himself in public?”

“Yep,” I said curtly, holding out my hand for the scroll to be returned. “Can you direct me to where I need to go?”

He shook his head in disapproval, slapped the scroll into my hand, and addressed the youngest-looking of the legionnaires. “Artorius, escort this legionnaire to the smiths.”

Artorius snapped his gauntlet to his chest in salute, spun, and began walking. He didn’t wait to see if I followed. I guessed he was embarrassed to be seen with me by his haste. I had been inside the palace grounds before, so I was not surprised by the opulence of the manicured paths, gardens, and outbuildings. We kept the wall to the right as we moved toward an impressive white stone building along the wall of the expansive grounds.

Roman columns decorated the outside with impressive fifteen-foot statues of legionnaires between them. “Who are they?” I asked as we passed through a wide entrance flanked by two Imperial legionnaires.

The legionnaire gave me a sour look but answered, “Legion heroes. Most from the First Legion.” I wanted to go back and inspect them as the detail on the statues had been amazing. Instead, I followed the impatient man through the echoing halls.

Polished white, black, and blue marble was everywhere, and this seemed more like a palace than a functional military structure. Imperial legionaries walked the wide, high-ceiling corridors with purpose in their step. Some gave me curious looks as their steps echoed past. Others ignored me completely, assuming by my escort that I had a right to be here.

We exited out the back of the Legion Hall into a training yard with a handful of legionnaires sparing. I slowed my steps to study them, ignoring my escort’s impatience. These legionnaires were good. Maybe as good as Xavier with a sword. I tried to focus on their technique and form to add it to my dreamscape.

Artorius waited, his expression souring as I wasn’t moving, and returned to stand beside me. Of the twenty men practicing, eighteen wielded swords and two spears. The peak of movement efficiency was on full display, and I particularly focused on the footwork as that was my greatest shortcoming.

“Only the best are quartered in the Imperial Legion Hall. I doubt you could match a single legionnaire here,” he said condescendingly. I almost rebuked his claim but kept my tongue. As long as I had my air shield, I was confident I could best almost anyone here as long as they didn’t have their own spell form to enhance their combat.

There was a single-story gray brick building with the sounds of metal being pounded on the far side of the training grounds. “It is in there,” Artorius waved at the building, seeing I was unlikely to move. He spun around to return to his post. His disdain for me was evident. I could only guess it was because I was disgracing the legion by my appearance.

I watched the combat for another ten minutes before I entered the building and got hit with a wave of dry heat that made me blink my eyes rapidly to keep them moist. When my eyes adjusted, I found a wide, long room with three workstation alcoves on each side.

Each workstation had three large curved anvils of varying sizes and racks of hammers and tongs behind them. Red hot furnaces that reminded me of pizza ovens were at each station. I assumed they were heated by thermal stones as there were no fumes or coals. Five of the smiths continued to work, hammering on plates, while the nearest one stopped and approached.

“Whaddya need?” His dry voice asked in an unfamiliar accent. I held out my scroll, and his broad shoulders rolled to loosen up before he took it. He had earned thick, veined forearms from his years as a smith.

While he was reading, I noticed his oven furnace was the only one absent a red-hot glow. He grunted as he read. Then handed me the scroll. “Ignis is at er end on er right.” He then returned to his work, folding a plate over the curve of the anvil and smoothing it with his hands. I guessed he must have had a metal-shaping spell form.

It was fascinating to watch, as he quickly made a pauldron plate and took out what appeared to be a blank to compare it to before shaping the metal a little more to finish. He looked up, seeing I was watching him, so I left him to work and strode down the length of the building.

I opened the scroll and read it as I walked. It was a request from Chancellor High Mage Zyna to equip her personal legionnaire guard with a suit of ceremonial legion armor with a single enchantment to guard against rust.

I reached the workstation to find Ignis, an old woman with gray hair but built like a lumberjack. She was unhappy to be interrupted, so I handed her the scroll wordlessly. She took it despondently, read it, and smirked.

“Heard the old fire witch got herself a shield and sword arm. Follow me. I don’t think I can meet her request to finish it in four days, but I owe her a favor. Maybe six days.” The old woman moved through a side door, and I noticed she was working on three separate sets of legion armor. All of the cuirasses had slight feminine curves. I knew there were female legionnaires, but they were rare.

I hurried after Ignis, and the cool air beyond the door caused goosebumps to form as my sweat vanished. The room was familiar to me, with six mannequins inside for fitting armor. The quality and condition of the mannequins far outstripped the ones used in the conscript legion training camp. Ignis was standing by one, waiting for me.

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“How many women legionnaires are there?” I asked, remembering the one I trained with. I wondered if Helena had completed the training and now served somewhere.

“Maybe a hundred in the entire Imperial Legion and half that elsewhere. Strip.” Ignis ordered and folded her arms across her chest, waiting. In that pose, with bulging biceps, square shoulders and a thick neck, she looked more like a squat bodybuilder than an impatient old woman.

I removed my clothes, leaving just my underclothes, and she assessed my body with her trained eye. Her curiosity caused her to inquire, “Not many scars. Are you fresh, or did you come from a company with a healing mage?”

Instead of answering her question, I asked my own. “How long have you known Zyna?”

The woman paused in her preparation of the mannequin to match my physique. “Be careful with your familiarity with the fire witch when talking with others. Even if you are sticking her in private, it is best always to use her titles elsewhere.” My mouth hung open for a moment. Ignis was hypocritical in her own familiarity with Zyna, and now she thought Zyna had taken me on as a boy toy.

She locked eyes on me to ensure I understood, and I nodded, not correcting her assumption. Ignis continued, “And to your question, I have known her longer than you have been alive. She got me this position when she found me working in a small village. After thirty years, I still don’t know if I should thank her or curse her.” She chuckled to herself at some private joke.

After setting the mannequin to roughly match my physique, she moved in on me with a tape and a stick. “I need you to flex in various poses. An individual’s muscles can have some variance, and I want to make sure you have a good range of motion in your armor when you swing your stick around.” I twirled the stick she had given me. The stick could be used as a spear or sword, and I went through the sword forms with Ignis stopping me in poses, asking me to flex, and taking a quick measurement with her tape.

“Enough,” she said after an hour. “You are a big boy, but I will give the armor some play for growth. Just don’t get lazy and drink yourself a belly. How big is your sword?”I thought about a multitude of responses for the armorer but instead just used the stick to mark the blade length and width from memory. “How much will this armor add to my debt?” I asked after I finished dressing in my filthy clothes.

“Nothing. The cost of the armor will be credited to the Chancellor’s account; however you decide to pay her back is up to you. Each Chancellor is allotted four personal legionnaires paid for by the Emperor. Normally, the Emperor will hand-pick legionnaires from his personal guard. High Mage Zyna just resumed her role as Chancellor but has not had a legionnaire in her service in years.” Ignis finished taking notes and preparing to return to work at her forge.

“Do you have any gloves?” I inquired, stopping her.

She turned slowly. “Only tough beast hide gloves or giant spider silk would hold up for any period of time. If the Chancellor approves it, I can charge it to her account,” the armorer said patiently.

I considered and thought the Imperial Legion Hall might have someone who could use the spinnerets I got in the dungeon. I considered a moment before I produced one of the spinnerets and asked, “Can gloves be made from this?”

The old smith had a surprised look, “Dimensional space?” I didn’t even need to nod before she said, “Now it makes sense why she chose such a young and inexperienced legionnaire.” I was surprised this armorer was making so many assumptions about me, but then again, I looked like I had just mopped a floor.

She turned it over in her hand appreciatively. “Yes, a mage tailor can get your gloves from this. It appears fresh. Do you know the species?”

I recalled what Castile had called it. “Dungeon black repelling spider.”

The armor smith looked surprised, “Just as good as drake hide and much more comfortable as the mage tailor will create them without seams. If you don’t mind giving up the excess, I can convince the Imperial Mageweaver to make your gloves.”

“How much excess would there be?” I asked before accepting.

“One spinneret this size is good for a single shirt or three-layered gloves. But I am no mage tailor, and I am guessing how far one can stretch one spinneret,” the old smith said, studying the spinneret like it was a jewel. “Spider silk is prized for making excellent underclothes as well. The comfort can’t be matched.” Her eyes drifted below my waist, indicating what she meant.

“Two long-sleeved shirts, two pairs of gloves,” I said, placing the other four spinnerets on a table. “Black, if possible, for everything. The extra material from the two additional spinnerets can pay for the mage’s time.” I replied after considering. “Also, I would prefer the origin of the spinnerets remain secret.”

Ignis was shaking her head, “Full of surprises. I know these must be used quickly after harvesting, or the strands bind together. I have some clay for impressions of the back and front of your hands.” Ignis moved quickly, and after my imprints were made, the soft clay was baked to harden, and Ignis headed off to deliver the spinnerets.

I was happily cleaning out my dimensional storage in exchange for more useful items. Hopefully, I wasn’t evading some Imperial dungeon tax, and Ignis could be trusted. I began my walk back to the War Mage Tower. An Imperial legionnaire escorted me from the palace grounds back to the Mage College. At least he wasn't as spiteful as Artorius.

I climbed the tower on returning. I had been gone two hours and found a filthy Renna scrubbing the floors on her hands and knees next to a bucket of black water. She looked filthier than me.

“Well, at least your robes are already gray.” I joked on seeing her sorry state.

A spell form flashed in her left hand over a few seconds, and a small fireball formed. It raced toward me and exploded in a small pop of light as heat washed over my legs. Her grin at her display faded when I had made no attempt to move. The air shield I had erected was not visible to her, and the only effect I felt was the hot air washing over my legs. I guessed mages flirted differently— at least, I was assuming she was flirting by her mischievous grin. Or maybe she was trying to impress me with her magic.

“You are different, Eryk. More confident, Battle-hardened.” Renna said seriously after the disappointment at my lack of surprise left her.

I brushed off her comments. I had faced death’s embrace too many times and no longer feared it. “Do the grey robes mean you are a mage now,” I asked, cracking a smile while she stood with an obvious hunch from being on the floor for so long. She straightened her back and arched to stretch it.

She let out a groan as her muscles stretched and then returned her attention to me. She smiled smugly at my wandering eyes, “Yes, I have learned two spells. I earned my grays faster than anyone in the last six years. I will earn my whites and be recognized as a full mage before the end of my first year. That is why I have been assigned to the War College early.” A muffled bell chimed in the distance courtyard of the Mage College. Flora and Livia came out of the bedroom, covered in filth and excited. Renna explained, “Zyna said we are free to go to dinner at the bell. But we will be back tomorrow.” She smiled as she backed toward the door, her bright white teeth showing through her filthy face. The two mage aspirants were already dashing down the stairs, eager for food.

I shouldn’t have been surprised that the weasel pelt I had draped over the elven assessment table was folded back, revealing it. A heavy book was on the exposed table. Was it Renna, the mage aspirants, or Zyna who had entered the room, violating my privacy? In truth, I had left the table out to see how much I could trust Zyna. She had gained a lot of points by returning the dreamscape amulet but had just lost them.

I sighed helplessly and looked at the title of the book. Preparing Dungeon Flora and Fauna: A Guide to getting the most out of your time in a dungeon.

Well, thank you, Zyna, but it looks like we needed to talk and hopefully set some boundaries—after a bath.

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