Unexpected Homecomings

[Sir Karsimir]

Confusing as the situation was, Railtus was pleased. A bright smile showed the fact. By that wink Rosemary was obviously at ease with Railtus present, which was a welcome relief. So far he had been cautious, knowing the unwished threat which his family name could represent. By all accounts, he had earned her good opinion.

Anything else to read from that went completely over his head, making no stops to register on the way by. So he merely replied with due courtesy and respect. "You are very kind, my thanks." Then there was a pause for a moment of thought. "Though I will pass on the cherries." Which had the nice side effect of keeping him safe from anything he had missed.

Collecting Mavelle's token, Railtus smiled again, this time fondly and wistfully. "That was good of you to bring it in." Shaking it free, he dusted off the handkerchief and tucked it into it's new home in the back of his iron bracer.

With the meal so near to being ready, Railtus helped in the best way he could - throwing his armour off. The gamberson could still be worn, and the iron bracers were actually helpful in binding his sleeves tightly. Still, the rigid breastplate and leather gauntlets would have to go. When choosing a seat, Railtus took careful note of the sides of the chair. Solid chairs made it difficult to sit down while wearing a sword.

Given that he was the guest, he was reluctant to go about the kitchen to help, as that would mean handling the owner's things. Which he would not do without permission. Had he done so, he would probably surprise his hosts by how well he knew what he was doing. Part of being a page was serving meals in the Duke's household. Of course, serving in the household of a Duke was very different to the household of a farmer.

Without his gauntlets, a collection of rings were visible. Three trophy rings, two on one hand, one on the other, a signet, and a plain band of silver-white metal. The gauntlets and breastplate were stowed somewhere unobtrusive, and Railtus stood ready.

Most that was on his mind was business - armouring, tactics, information to learn about the mercenaries. Rosemary could help with some of that, of course, but this would not make good table conversation. As such, he left whatever he wanted to say unsaid for the moment and allowed his hosts to direct conversation over the meal.

[Julen]

Railtus’s decision to pass on the cherries drew a fresh giggle from Rosemary. “As you wish. But you don’t know what you’re missing.”

Nevertheless, she removed the pail of tiny red fruits from the table. Then, motioning for Julen to keep holding the roasting pan, she darted into the bedroom and opened her linen chest. The chest was not as full as she would have liked. But at least she had a proper tablecloth. Hurrying back to the kitchen, Rosemary smiled proudly at Railtus as she laid it in place. She and Julen might have fallen on hard times -- and even during the best of times, they couldn’t have offered the exotic feasts Railtus was probably accustomed to -- but by the gods, they didn’t make their guests wipe their mouths on their sleeves.

While Julen placed the roasting pan in the center of the table, Rosemary set out three cups. Next, she cut three thick slices of dark bread, putting one next to each cup. Finally, the cups were filled with wine, and a generous helping of sausage and vegetables was ladled onto each slice of bread. “Please join us,” Rosemary invited, gesturing at a simple chair, made from an armless wooden frame with thick straw woven together to form the seat.

Watching Railtus shed his breastplate and gauntlets, Julen wondered if it would be alright for him to also remove a few things before the meal. Probably not. He’d already taken off his leather gloves, and the arming coat wouldn’t interfere with his ability to eat in the same way that Railtus’s breastplate would. So, still fully dressed for combat, Julen sat down to eat.

“May the gods bless this meal,” Rosemary intoned, her head bowed and eyes closed. “And bless those who share it with us.”

Julen nearly raised an eyebrow at that. Perhaps out of deference to his own rather nebulous religious beliefs, Rosemary was not in the habit of saying grace before a meal. The gesture was obviously intended for Railtus’s benefit. Unfortunately, it missed the mark a little, since Ydren was an angel not a god, but Julen didn’t correct his wife. Instead, he gave her a nod and smile, before picking up a chunk of roasted carrot. His first bite of its sweet flesh, seasoned by wine and juices from the pork sausage, made him even more ravenous. After four months, he’d nearly forgotten what a home-cooked meal tasted like.

Content just to hear the sound of his wife’s voice again, Julen let Rosemary steer the conversation in any direction that she chose. At first, she focused on Railtus, asking about his journey, and his impressions of Marn, and expressing her hope that his kin were all well. But she soon came to understand what Julen had already discovered -- Railtus just wasn’t all that interested in speaking about himself. After that realization, talk drifted to recent events on the farm, and to fond memories, until somehow, she was reminiscing about their wedding day.

“It was so romantic. Julen got up in front of the whole village and sang to me. Have you heard him sing? He really has a wonderful voice.” Turning to face Julen, she took another drink of wine, and grinned a little tipsily. “Sing something for us.”

Julen lowered his eyes as something cold and hard coalesced in his gut. “Not now.”

“Please? To celebrate your homecoming. I’ve really missed your singing.”

“I said, not now!” Julen hated himself for yelling as soon as the last word escaped his mouth. Ashamed to look at the hurt on his wife’s face, and also terrified that she would glimpse some hint of the truth in his own expression , Julen stood, turning his back on the table. “I’m going to get the forge ready. Railtus, you can join me when you’ve finished eating.” With that, he walked out of the kitchen.

However, Julen’s exit was somewhat spoiled a few moments later when he returned, grabbed his spear, and marched back out again.

[Sir Karsimir]

Under any other circumstances, Railtus would be in stitches watching Julen have to storm off twice. At present, the severity of the situation kept him composed and the humour locked neatly away. At present, there was a hurt and confused woman, upset and alarmed by this uncharacteristic behaviour.

Damage control. "Stay calm, Rosemary." Railtus advised, "Fear makes people do foolish things. Give him time to cool, then simply ask him why he acted like that. Do not take it to heart, trust me." Powerful certainty filled every word, Railtus using his confidence as a means to reassure Rosemary. That being his only tool to hand at the moment.

Mentally, he prepared himself to stonewall any questions about what he knew that Rosemary did not, with the effective yet truthful answer that she would be better talking to her husband about that.

As for the meal itself, it was lovely, although Railtus partook only sparingly of the wine. Any clouding of his judgement was unwelcome and to be fought at every opportunity. The conversation had been pleasant, interesting even, once the topic moved away from him. Even when discussing his own life, he moved the focus onto the other people involved, almost constantly dodging the subject and questions put to him.

"Are you alright?" Railtus asked, it was a stupid question, but seemed like the best way to nudge Rosemary into answering back.

[Falcon Bertille]

Alarmed by her husband’s inexplicable outburst, Rosemary stared at the kitchen door in shocked silence, even after Julen departed through it a second time. So many emotions struggled inside her that they nearly cancelled each other out, leaving her feeling numb down to her bones. Through the haze, some distant part of her mind registered the fact that Railtus was speaking to her, and she nodded politely at him. His words seemed to hold great wisdom. Unfortunately, they sounded far away and hard to make out, like someone calling to her through a storm. But the reassurance in his voice did reach her. And right then, reassurance was what she needed most. In time, when her emotions calmed a bit, she would be able to remember the advice he’d given, and gain clarity from it.

Only a direct question from Railtus managed to elicit any response. Her own welfare mattered very little to Rosemary in that moment. But when Railtus inquired if she was alright, it gave her a chance to ask about the person who did matter. “I’m okay, thank you,” she murmured. “Is he?”

That was all. Rosemary knew better than to press Railtus for details, although it seemed clear he understood more about this than she did. His directness had struck her right from the beginning. If he was going to offer any explanation for Julen’s behavior, he would have done so already. Obviously, he believed that this was a matter between her and her husband, and he was right. But if he could answer that one thing, it would do much to put her mind at rest.

Picking at her slice of bread, Rosemary dwelled on her earlier conversation with Julen. She couldn’t imagine how his sudden aversion to singing might be related to that, but still, it weighed heavily on her. Part of her wanted someone to talk to. And part of her didn’t want to burden Railtus with a bunch of personal concerns. After all, he was her guest. Then again, he was also a large part of why the earlier conversation had taken place. In the end, she didn’t reach a conscious decision -- the words simply dropped from her, like fruit so heavy and ripe that it can do nothing but fall.

“I’ve been thinking about the price we pay for the choices we make. If I’d loved a weak man, if I’d loved a coward...a weak man would have been no use to you, a coward would have fled from danger. And my husband would not be bound to follow a hero’s dream.” A sad smile graced Rosemary’s lips as she shook her head. “But I could never love a weak man or a coward.”

Reaching across the table, Rosemary gripped Railtus’s hand. There was no flirting in the gesture, just a simple quest for comfort, and she trusted Railtus to recognize that, although so many men would not. Already had not. Sometimes, a beautiful woman’s life seemed to be one long string of misunderstandings.

“You’re an honorable man. If you made a vow, you would keep it. And yet, the one thing I’d ask you to promise me is the one thing you can’t, no matter how much you might wish it.”

[Sir Karsimir]

Answering the question felt wrong to Railtus, as if he should not be the one with the answers. As if he should not be understanding Julen's thoughts better than his wife. "He will be." stated Railtus easily. "Find him a task for the moment and he will have calmed down before he is finished." Lasting resentment seemed against Julen's nature. On a guess, Railtus would say that by now Julen would be more angry with himself than anything else, desperately wanting to apologise but feeling somehow unable to.

Heavy silence followed, Railtus allowing Rosemary to speak at her own pace. Which she did. That was good. At least visible progress was being made, as Rosemary sorted through her thoughts and feelings out loud. This way, at least he could step in if they took a turn towards a self-destructive or unhealthy path.

Understanding the meaning of her gripping his hand, Railtus still felt uncertain of how to react. While he was glad that she could trust him so, he knew how often such a gesture was misunderstood and generally interpreted such a gesture that way himself. With indecision gnawing at his mind like a malevolent presence at the back of his neck, he gave her hand a token squeeze, considering her sorrow far more important than any possible interpretations.

"If you mean to keep Julen safe, steps are already being taken for that. The new armour, for instance." he reminded. Empathising was a difficulty, since he now saw the problem as something he could deal with. Which was good, which was effective, but not always what someone wanted. "If you would wish, there is something you could do towards that." Railtus grabbed a fist full of his gamberson sleeve to show to Rosemary. "I know roughly how this was made, and you probably have the skills for it. That way you gain the peace of mind from knowing your husband has an extra layer of armour on him."

Leadership was very much about empowerment, convincing people of their own worth and ability to effect change. With a final squeeze of encouragement, Railtus pulled his hand away.

"Is there anything that I can do?" Railtus asked carefully, "That would help you?" There was still some reluctance, and while he was not seeking to break through those walls, he did not wish to be inaccessable to one in need.

[Falcon Bertille]

“Yes,” Rosemary agreed, leaning forward to examine Railtus’s gamberson. “Please tell me what you know of making armor like this.” At heart, she was a practical woman. When presented with a tangible project, she jumped on it, and scolded herself for nearly becoming a slave to her fears. To let her mind linger amidst the shadows of things she couldn’t change was to be lost in darkness. A positive step, no matter how minor, made more difference than any amount of moaning and hand-wringing. Even a step as small as a single stitch in Railtus’s gamberson. “What you don’t know, I can probably improvise. I’m a good seamstress.”

After all, she was not the first woman whose husband had been called away to face danger. Elsewhere in the world, men left their homes to fight terrible wars, and many of them did so without the training and armor than Julen already possessed. And without the aid of a comrade who apparently had some talent for healing. Even in Marn, surely the guard’s wives worried about their husbands each morning when they left for work, never knowing what hazards the day might bring. Rosemary had not expected this to be her lot in life. But if other women could bear it, then so could she.

When Railtus released her hand, Rosemary smiled at him as he pulled away. “Thank you. You’re very wise. I’ll speak with Julen tonight. I’m sure…I’m sure that whatever is troubling him won’t prove to be more than we can handle.” Of that, at least, she felt certain. During their marriage’s early days, when misfortune first began to plague them, she’d worried that their union might not survive. But trial after trial had only served to prove the strength of what they had.

Railtus’s inquiry about helping her touched Rosemary. After all that he’d already done, he was willing to do more. Of course, there were things she desperately wanted to ask of him -- to keep Julen safe, and if that failed, to keep him from suffering, and if even that failed, to at least keep him from being alone and scared during his final moments in this world. But Railtus was obviously already doing everything he could think of to prevent that from happening. Her requests would make no difference. So Rosemary shook her head.

“No. Just know that you’re always welcome in this house. Whether you come with my husband, or whether you come alone.” There were layers of meaning in that promise. Rosemary wasn’t sure if Railtus would fully understand, but she intended it as more of a vow to herself, anyway. Whatever came to pass, she would not blame this good man for it

Remembering her role as hostess, and also hoping to show that her moment of weakness was behind her, Rosemary gestured at the leftover sausage and vegetables. “Would you care for any more to eat?”

[Sir Karsimir]

Few things could have meant more to Railtus. Such faith and hope and trust extended by Rosemary. In his own mind, he was not sure how he had earned it. Were events to repeat themselves, Railtus could not even consider doing different. From that mindset, it was difficult to understand the gratitude. Still, the switch back to hostess was very abrupt, and Railtus wished he could properly convey that she did not have to stand on ceremony, that she was not under obligation, that she was not being judged.

"No, that is all for now. Thank you." declined Railtus, painfully conscious of the blights which had befallen the farm, careful not to accept more than could easily be given.

Not really knowing what to say about the promise made, Railtus let it pass without comment. The advice he had gave also brought that matter to a close. So he dealt with the final item, armour.

"This is a gamberson." Introductions to the armour seemed logical. Leaning back to be clearly non-threatening, Railtus drew the dagger on his right hip, and dragged the edge hard along the gamberson sleeve. It scored the cloth. That was all. Flesh would have suffered a deep slice into the muscle. "Made from stiff linen cloth and straw." With practiced ease, Railtus flipped the weapon over in his hand and sheathed it neatly, not willing to have a weapon drawn in Rosemary's presence any longer than necessary. "If you notice, the stiff cloth is sewn into tubes. The tubes are packed full of fresh straw, as tightly as possible so that the armour keeps shape when struck." Railtus stood and stretched his arms wide to allow Rosemary a clearer look at the armour. Having removed his breastplate for dinner was a surprising convenience. "That is the basic build. Link the tubes both together and onto a thick cloth backing, if the mercenary had a decent cloak that would do nicely." So long as it was not wool. Wool was unsuited as containing layers. "Keeping the tubes tight and thin prevents the straw from shifting inside."

Now poking at his own armour, Railtus followed on that point. "The more straw packed inside, the less a blade-edge can press the cloth inwards, so the cloth is less likely to breach when struck. If the cloth does not breach, no blade will pierce, so the wearer is safe. If the cloth is not sturdy enough, bind double-layers tight together, at least."

"For the arms, use shorter tubes joined together, so that there is a flexible spot at the elbow for movement." Railtus flexed his own elbow back and forth to demonstrate. "Any questions? And if you have a large metal cauldron I can get to making a further layer of strong armour."

[Falcon Bertille]

Rosemary watched Railtus’s demonstration with the dagger, nodding to herself. Yes. That was good. Her husband would have a garment such as that one, even if she needed to spend all week sewing it.

The gold flecks in her hazel irises almost seemed to glint as she scrutinized the gamberson. Like a hawk evaluating its prey, her eyes were quick and bright, taking in every detail. At the same time, she listened intently to Railtus’s instructions. Straw? Yes, they had plenty of straw. And linen could be salvaged from the dead mercenary’s clothing. A cloak? She didn’t think the mercenary had possessed a cloak. But there were other sources of sturdy cloth to use as backing. Almost involuntarily, Rosemary’s gaze fell on the tablecloth. Oh well. It looked like future guests would be wiping their mouths on their sleeves after all.

When Railtus asked if she had any questions, Rosemary shook her head. She was so eager to get started that she nearly missed Railtus’s request for a cauldron. A cauldron. That sounds rather dramatic, she thought. As if I should also have a supply of newt eyes and frog warts handy. Glancing around the kitchen, Rosemary tried to select the best vessel. Finally, she got up and opened one of the lower cabinets, from which she dragged an immense cast iron stockpot. “Will this do?”

[Sir Karsimir]

Unable to simply stand there while a woman was struggling with something, Railtus dashed forward to lend his strength to shifting the stook pot. One gesture which his family would certainly not approve of. More and more frequently did he get that notion, as if the very notion of decency was becoming a breach of protocol.

"That will do fine, thank you." With that, Railtus gathered his own cloak, the leather jack from the mercenary, and found his vambraces, collecting them together for the task ahead. "I will be back for this shortly."

With that, he left, partially because it was about time that he saw Julen, partially to find water with which to fill the stookpot. Making his way around the building to small forge, he allowed heavy footsteps to announce his approach, awaiting Julen's reaction before proceding with any point.

After all, with the matter between Julen and his wife, it was not for Railtus to decide which to deal with first.

[Julen]

Julen dumped a final scoopful of charcoal into the forge’s firepot and ignited it. But his mind was only partially on the task. Instead, it seemed far more interested in pointing out the idiocy of his recent performance at the lunch table. What, exactly, did he think he’d accomplished? If he’d managed to stay calm, he might have passed off his refusal to sing as nothing more than the result of weariness. But no, he’d caused a scene, and now Rosemary was bound to ask him about it. And what was he going to tell her?

What the hell was he going to tell her?

Wasn’t it bad enough that she had to worry about her husband dying on some hero’s quest? Now he had to add the possibility of getting dragged off by the city guard? Bending over, Julen pumped the accordion bellows a few times, and the charcoal glowed more brightly as fresh air flowed up into it from below. Maybe he should just turn himself in. After all, the Judges had given Railtus a license, hadn’t they? Perhaps they’d be similarly understanding with him. Julen tried very, very hard to imagine that conversation going well.

You say you have magical powers you can’t control? Well, that’s hardly your fault, is it? And instead of coming forward as soon as you discovered this, you wreaked havoc at a local tavern? Quite understandable. We get a lot of that. But we here at the city guard aren’t nearly as fearsome as most people think. We’ll just schedule lessons -- at your convenience, of course -- to help you manage this whole illusion thing, and then you can go on with your life. How’s that sound?

It might happen like that. Although, somehow, Julen doubted it. Railtus was a noble. The Judges could probably bring down House Anstrun, but it would take a prolonged fight, and they weren’t going to annoy people who would serve as useful allies. Far easier just to give Railtus his license. But Julen was a nobody from Shim, with no influential family behind him. Why should the city guard do anything except toss him into a cell and throw away the key?

Anyway, even if some miracle occurred, and he did get a license, it still wouldn’t help. As horrible and selfish as it sounded, Julen was forced to admit that his main concern wasn’t worrying Rosemary. He wasn’t afraid that she’d be scared for him. He was afraid she’d be scared of him. That was the thing he couldn’t live with.

Picking up a pair of tongs, Julen rearranged the lumps of charcoal to create a more concentrated heat source. That was when he heard the sound of footsteps. As he turned around, Julen saw Railtus approaching, and a question about Rosemary threatened to jump from his lips. But Julen fought it back. He was not going to ask someone else if his wife was alright, not when it was his own responsibility to make sure that she was. When what he really needed to do was walk back into the kitchen and talk to her himself. If he couldn’t do that, he didn’t deserve to know.

So, instead, Julen gestured to the patches of maille on his arming coat. Had Railtus called them ‘voiders’? There were still so many new terms tumbling around in his head. “You said something about attaching these to the helmet to make a neck guard?”

[Sir Karsimir]

"I did." acknowledged Railtus with a nod, readily following Julen's choice of subject. While he had his opinions, he did not seek to interfere in another man's marriage.

Looking at the nearby tools, Railtus selected a hammer and a tapering iron spike, like a narrow chisel. At this moment, metalwork held no subtlety, with the spike-tip being slid through a ring of maille, then hammered to split the links. These links were transferred from the edges to the previously hollow center, changing the shape from a curled mesh to a square formation of rings. Given the choice, he would use the extra rings to upgrade to King's Maille, but the voiders alone would be barely enough to cover the neck in an avantail, so he settled for linking the rings in fours rather than fives.

After making some progress, and joining both voiders into one grander piece, he kept testing the size against Julen's neck, draping it held slightly away from the neck itself. Finally satisfied, he found a way to attatch it to the helm. Arming points. The leather cord fixed to the arming coat was again useful. Most helms were designed with small brass rings on, specifically for this purpose. This helm bore similar, smaller rings for tying on the internal lining. So it was a simple matter to remove the lining, bind the avantail onto the rings, and tie the lining in over that.

"Next, we need to fill the stookpot with water." Railtus stated, depicting the height and width with gestures to convey which one to Julen. By any guess, filled, that stookpot would way too much to carry, so they would need to bring the water here. Which raised the question of how.

"The water will need bringing to a boil, then to begin to cool. Then we can use it to harden the leather. How shall we get the water ready?" Tasks seemed to be what was needed right now, so tasks were what Railtus would deal with. With Gantar's death concealed, the chances were that it would be safe for Julen and Railtus to go gathering, but he did not feel comfortable with the notion. Ever cautious, he was overestimating the danger, planning for the worst while hoping for the best.

Of course, the civilians were mostly able to go about their daily lives. Gathering water, making trips. Certain trips were needed, and no one had reason to ask questions. Still, Railtus was not quite willing to suggest it.

[Julen]

After Railtus confirmed his plans for the patches of maille, Julen started to take off his arming coat. But, to his disappointment, Railtus indicated that removal wouldn’t be necessary, and simply cut the voiders loose while Julen remained inside his outfit. This close to the heat of the forge, any reprieve would have been welcome. Ruefully, Julen thought back on the tales his mother had told him -- despite all their romantic descriptions of knights in glorious armor, not one had mentioned how wretchedly hot it was inside those protective layers.

Standing still while Railtus compared the length of the avantail against the length of his neck, Julen couldn’t help remembering Rosemary, draping cloth over his outstretched arms in preparation of making her first shirt for him. In those days, she’d still been discovering his measurements. Now, of course, she knew the size and shape of his body as well as he knew her own.

Railtus’s mention of the stockpot made Julen shoot a guilty glance back toward his house. The stockpot would be in the kitchen. The one place he desperately did, and desperately did not, want to go. For a moment, Julen considered asking Railtus for advice. But he already knew what his friend would say. Tell her. So short, so simple, and yet so incredibly difficult.

“Well, the forge is already going, so we could use it to boil the water,” Julen suggested, picking up a pair of tongs and spreading out the lumps of charcoal to reduce the heat’s intensity a little. After all, he wanted to warm the stockpot, not melt it.

“As for the water itself...” Julen repressed a sardonic comment about probably being able to wring enough sweat out of his clothes to boil the leather. If he was hot, Railtus must be hotter, and the warrior wasn’t complaining. “Once we get the stockpot here, we can carry buckets of water from the well to fill it.”

So. Time to retrieve the stockpot. Julen toyed with the idea of asking Railtus to fetch it while he went to the well and brought back the first bucket of water. But making Railtus carry the heavy vessel alone seemed like a poor gesture, especially since he was both Railtus’s host and his footman. Summoning his resolve, Julen turned from the forge. “Let’s get the pot.”

As they walked back toward the house, back toward a possible confrontation with Rosemary, Julen tried to think of what he would say. But all his silently rehearsed speeches sounded stupid and hollow. Again, he looked to Railtus for guidance. Not with a direct question -- he already knew what the direct answer would be. But approaching the matter sideways. “Have you told Mavelle? About what you are? About what you can do?”

Under normal circumstance, Julen would not consider it any of his business what Railtus did or didn’t tell Mavelle. Julen hoped that, given the situation, Railtus would understand that his question came from more than idle curiosity.

[Sir Karsimir]

Good question.

And not one easy to answer. The conversation between Railtus and Mavelle may or may not count as telling her. Certainly no secret had been hidden away from her, although Railtus had not spoken directly of his nature to her, preferring not to boast of his celestial nature. Grudgingly, he shrugged at the question. "I mentioned the event with Ramas to her, but she gave indication of recognising that I was using a miracle. If you remember, the only reason I told you was because you asked. It is not something I like to boast of."

Dipping his head, Railtus signalled a new insight. "If it would help, you could test how Rosemary reacts to concept that I can use magic. We can explain what an Angelsworn is afterwards, simply find out her initial reaction."

In the kitchen, everything was in order. Unsurprising really, considering the amount of time involved in adjusting maille. Still, finding the room so different to how he left it was unexpected. Holding steady, Railtus listened carefully, hearing small movements in the next room. Those were enough to tell him that everything was as it should be, and Rosemary was safe.

The iron stookpot was not too heavy, more bulky and awkward. Railtus proved capable of enfolding it in a hug bear-hug and lifting it by himself. Full armour and harness weighed more, and Railtus was able to move swiftly in such gear.

What was difficult was fitting the damn thing through the doorway, this was where Julen's help was needed. It took a little work, but was successful. Brute force was always reliable.

Eventually the stookpot reached the forge, and Railtus began the process of bringing water in buckets. That reluctance he felt at leaving Rosemary unguarded raised a thought to him. "Very soon, we will need to move Rosemary into your room at the bakery, so that no angry mercenaries looking for us at the house find Rosemary unguarded." Details beyond that were left blank.

Be it through a combined effort, or one fetching the water while another stays to protect the farmhouse, the stookpot steadily filled. Annoyingly enough, two loads of water had been brought before Railtus remembered to lift it atop the forge. Nevertheless, he continued, finally he filled the stookpot with water which was boiling fiercely. Keeping his gauntlets on, he dipped that bucket back in the seething liquid to splash out the fire.

Then he waited for the water to calm.

It was still scalding hot, but he knew that armourers had better experience if the water was not actively boiling. Boiling, the leather would harden unevenly, even turning brittle and cracked in places. That would be counterproductive. Instead, Railtus used the time constructively to fetch the leather jack, vambraces, and cloak.

As well as the bundle of training weapons.

The training swords functioned as long poles with which to manipulate the leather in the water that burned, supporting the inside so that the armour would not fold in on itself and shield patches from the treatment.

After about forty seconds of manipulation, he lifted out the soaked jack from the stookpot, set it down, then grasped his cloak. "Trust me." he advised Julen, then draped the cloak over his head. Holding the leather breastplate in hands protected by gauntlets, Railtus draped the armour onto Julen, with the cloak shielding his bare head from drips of scalding water.

With the armour on, Railtus dragged the cloak upwards from the top, removing it from Julen's head. Then Railtus took his dagger and made small slits downwards from the arm-holes. After all, when the armour was finished, it would not be good for Julen to spend battles with his arms outstretched wide.

"Wear a belt over the breastplate. As it dries, the armour will shrink, thicken, and harden. This way it will mould itself to your form."

Next were the vambraces. They took less time in the water, and required no fuss with the cloak. These were simply tied in place.

[Julen]

Boasting. Julen’s lips curled into a wry smile when he heard that. Railtus didn’t want to boast about what he was and Julen couldn’t stand to reveal the shame of it. Funny how magic could affect two people so differently.

As they wrestled to get the stockpot out the door, Julen was a little surprised that Rosemary didn’t come to investigate. They were hardly being silent. Perhaps she’d decided that it should be up to her husband to approach her when he was ready. For Julen, however, “ready” still felt like a long way away. Instead, he considered Railtus’s proposal for revealing his own magical powers to Rosemary. Leave it to the warrior to come up with a tidy plan of action for any situation. And this one certainly had its attractions. It would allow Julen to test Rosemary’s response without risking anything, and depending on her reaction, it might even make his eventual confession easier. But in the end, Julen shook his head. “Thank you. I appreciate your willingness to help with this. But it wouldn’t change anything. Even if learning about your magic makes her run out of the house screaming with fear, we both know what I have to do.”

“I just don’t want to…”

They’d transported the pot to the forge, and Julen had retrieved a couple of buckets from the shed, when Railtus made his suggestion about moving Rosemary. At first, Julen felt too confused to protest. “Angry mercenaries? Why would angry mercenaries be looking for us? And even if they did, why would we not be here when they showed up?” Then, like a slap in the face, it hit him. Having saved Rosemary, he’d considered the whole world saved. But other wives, other families, were still suffering, and would continue to suffer until the remaining mercenaries could be brought under control. Julen felt a stab of guilt for being so oblivious to the plight of his own neighbors. He was glad that Railtus hadn’t lost track of the big picture.

“Yes. Yes, of course, you’re right. We have to step in.” And yet, even with that realization achieved, Julen still wanted to protest Rosemary’s departure. He wanted to argue that she could somehow be made safe inside the farmhouse. After four months of being apart, it made him sick inside to think that they now needed to switch places, like players in some sadistic child’s game. But he knew Railtus was right. If the mercenaries found Rosemary unprotected, then took their vengeance on her…no thickness of new armor, and no amount of angelic healing, would ever be enough to save him from that wound.

“Tomorrow,” Julen conceded, staring at the ground. “We’ll take her into Marn tomorrow morning. I just want to lie beside my wife for one night. Then, tomorrow, I’ll be brave.”

Lost in heavy thoughts, Julen remained silent during most of the armor’s construction. He did feel some trepidation when Railtus seemed ready to dress him in leather so recently lifted from a pot of scalding water. But he’d learned to trust his friend, so he submitted to having a cloak draped over his head, and didn’t even flinch while Railtus placed the jack on him.

As he stood there, dressed in the dripping pieces of leather, Julen couldn’t help but be amazed at how far he’d come. A week ago, he’d been a farmer who couldn’t even throw an effective punch. Now, he owned three weapons, an impressive set of armor, and knew enough combat to have helped kill a man. Of course, he still couldn’t throw an effective punch. But hopefully that wouldn’t be called for in the upcoming days.

Going to get a belt would mean returning to the house. This, once more, brought Julen’s thoughts back to Rosemary and the difficulty between them. Remembering the answer Railtus had given to his initial question, Julen decided to press a little further.

“If you did tell Mavelle, wouldn’t you be afraid--?” Abruptly, Julen stopped himself. No. Not afraid, not Railtus. Some other emotion would have to substitute. “Wouldn’t you be very disappointed if she reacted badly? If she no longer wanted anything to do with you?” Surely, even the Angelsworn experienced disappointment from time to time.

[Sir Karsimir]

Listening carefully, Railtus felt a pang of sympathy, even if he was unwillingly detatched from this ordeal himself. Four months was long enough to spend away from a loved one, and to return and not have time together must be horrible. At least some encouragement came to mind.

"There is some time yet. They do not know our plans." Of course, sooner or later Railtus would insist on getting started in rooting out this active evil preying upon Shim, but this kindness was within his power to offer. Delays could be used for further preparation, perhaps training Julen further, or adjusting to the battle-horse. True, this task was important, but important more than urgent.

Now came another issue, one Railtus had not thought of, and one in dire need of consideration. "When you tell Rosemary, no specifics, no demonstrations. If she knows any details she could be charged with harbouring an illegal mage. No examples. At all. For her sake. Tell her vaguely what happens when you sing and stop there." It was fairly cold point, but it was needed. Harsh though it may seem, Railtus was not one to take chances with the safety of innocents.

Guessing that Julen was searching for a belt, Railtus could think of one immediately handy. "Use your sword belt." he suggested, pointing at the abdomen of the breastplate.

Returning to the subject at hand, he had a question to answer. "Yes. I would be hurt." A plain, flat answer, delivered without depth of feeling. "I would feel pity more than anything else. For an innocent to fear agents of good would be a sad event indeed." Presumably, this was not what Julen wanted to know. "In truth, I am unsure how much devotion I could offer Mavelle, since there is always a wrong to right or an innocent to protect. Simply, Mavelle would never come first in my life the way Rosemary may well do in yours." The words were chosen hesitantly, not presuming to know Julen's priorities. The importance of Rosemary was obvious, but as for where she stood when compared with right and wrong, that was a guess Railtus would choose not to make. "That makes things very different for me."