The Vampire & Her Witch-Chapter 761: Executioner’s Armor

Ashlynn watched in fascination as Sybyll stripped off her red dress without a trace of modesty, revealing a sculpted, muscular, warrior’s body marked with old scars that, on any other knight, would have told stories of countless battles. On Sybyll’s body, however, only one of those scars, a mass of pebbled and rough skin covering one shoulder, looked like it had been inflicted by the flames of the Inquisition.

It was almost impossible for any human weapon to leave a scar on a vampire, and Sybyll hadn’t become a knight until she’d become one of Nyrielle’s progeny which meant that the scars on her body...

"It were rough work at times," Sybyll said as she followed Ashlynn’s gaze to the collection of scars along her ribs before she turned, pulling her long crimson hair over her shoulder to reveal the larger collection of scars that criss-crossed her back.

"An ’ore house sells what men want of a woman, be it pleasure or pain," she said, turning back around and shaking her long, crimson hair back over her shoulder to cover the scars. "Don’t go lookin’ at me like it were a shameful thing," she added with a fierce light burning in her crimson eyes. "I did what..."

"No, not shameful," Ashlynn interrupted as she looked deeply into Sybyll’s eye, forcing back the thoughts that flickered through her mind. On the night that she crawled out of her grave, she’d contemplated trying to return to the human world to make her way back and claim her vengeance.

When Ian Hanrahan killed Sybyll’s mother, Nyrielle hadn’t ridden up in a dark carriage to rescue her but she’d found a way to survive for herself, one that demanded everything from her that a woman could give. Seeing the marks left on her by that life, Ashlynn couldn’t help but wonder if she would have been strong enough to do the same...

"Nyri told me how you were living before she and Sir Thane found you," Ashlynn said. "She also told me what you did to the men who prayed on your sisters and took more from them than a man should. I, I can’t imagine that it was easy," she said softly.

"Me life forged me long before Mistress Nyrielle had me armor forged," Sybyll admitted as she pulled the dark crimson gambeson over her head and began adjusting the buckles, pulling the layered, quilted fabric tight against her body and ensuring that it was in place to bear the weight of her armor before her hands moved automatically to her long crimson hair, pulling it quickly into a tight braid that would be easier to tuck under her cloth hood.

"The hauberk next," Thane said, lifting one end of a chain shirt that seemed to flow like liquid shadow and made no sound even as the links rubbed against each other. "Lady Ashlynn, take the other side. On three, one, two, three, up!"

Even with both of them helping, the weight of the armor was enough for Ashlynn to feel the strain pulling at her arms and pressing down through her legs, as though she were trying to lift the trunk of one of the fallen trees before they settled the darksteel chain over Sybyll’s shoulders and the crimson-haired knight took up the weight of it.

Each darksteel link was no larger than Ashlynn’s fingernail, yet there must have been tens of thousands of individual links and added together, the chain garment felt several times heavier than her old falchion had been.

"How do you even move in this?" Ashlynn asked, breathing hard from the exertion. In the half-year since she became Nyrielle’s Seneschal she’d become accustomed to being stronger than most people. There were very few things that still felt ’heavy’ to her the way Sybyll’s armor did, but when Ashlynn looked into the chest at all the pieces it suddenly felt like Sybyll would be carrying an entire fortress on her shoulders.

"Ya learn ta live in it," Sybyll said with a grin as she watched the shift in Ashlynn’s expression before she bent down, reaching for her vambraces. "Or ya die in it. Teacher Thane made sure I learned."

The transformation continued as Ashlynn helped buckle each piece into place. Vambraces protected Sybyll’s forearms, followed by gauntlets with articulated plates that moved like living shadows, tipped with wickedly sharp points in the style of the Clan of the Great Claw’s fighting gauntlets.

Piece by piece, the pleasant woman who had embraced Thane disappeared. Couters protected her elbows, locking into both the vambraces and rerebraces and leaving only the slightest gap in the elbow when Sybyll held her arm straight. Pauldrons crowned her shoulders like dark wings.

When Thane lifted the breastplate, a work of art that curved to deflect any blow while bearing the image of a crossed headsman’s ax and scythe in a dark variation of the Hanrahan coat of arms, Ashlynn understood why they called her the Crimson Knight. Not for the red of her hair or dress, but for the red of her enemies’ blood that the dark armor would drink in as she fought.

Thane had explained to Ollie long ago that even an ordinary human could learn to wield darksteel weapons so long as they understood enough sorcery to ’feed’ the armor with the power of blood, whether it was from their enemies or their own sacrificial offering. Seeing a vampire clad head to toe in such bloodthirsty armor, however, was a much more terrifying concept than a kitchen-boy armed with a darksteel cleaver.

The final piece was the helm. Unlike Thane’s practical visored design, this was a work of art intended to strike fear into the hearts of those who witnessed it. The faceplate had been shaped to resemble a grinning skull with elongated fangs, making her vampire identity clear even when locked into her armor, while a plume of horse hair dyed crimson sprouted from the top of the helm in imitation of Sybyll’s own hair.

"Now ya see why they fear the Crimson Knight," she said from behind the lowered visor. When she spoke, all traces of the pleasant woman who had rushed to hug Thane had vanished, replaced by something that looked like Death himself had been wrapped in armor and sent to walk the battlefield of mortals. "Still think ya want ta knock me down, little witch?"

"No wonder the stories about the Crimson Knight are so fearsome," Ashlynn said as she inspected the armored knight. Ever since she’d come to the Vale of Mists, Nyrielle’s progeny had treated her with kindness, respect, and even warmth and affection.

It made it easy to forget that each of them was every bit as fearsome and powerful as the High Lord Ansgar had been in life, but standing before Dame Sybyll in her armor, it was impossible to forget how much carnage she had left in her wake and what kind of violence she was capable of.

"You see?" Thane said with a proud smile. "Darksteel weapons are something that many of us can manage, but only Dame Sybyll is capable of wearing an entire suit of darksteel armor. That’s part of why Mistress Nyrielle and I feel that she’s the most suitable partner for you right now."

"And the other reason?" Ashlynn asked, setting the armor down and raising an eyebrow at Dame Sybyll.

"It’s not time ta tell yet," Sybyll said cryptically. "If ya want ta know, knock me down an’ make me tell ya," she said with a fierce grin and a look of challenge in her crimson eyes.