The Lion and the Serpent - Chapter Thirteen: Armour

The dim light of the morning was accompanied by a cold and daunting breeze, the darkness of night slowly giving way to the blue tints of a daylight sky on the horizon. It wouldn’t be long before daybreak came, and heralded the march to war. The spectrum of varying colours piercing the small vantage window in the keep’s towering walls, at the top the night sky still loomed, at the bottom and rising upward came lightening shades of blue and the horizon.

Seiken stared out in silence, his mind filled with thought and considerations. Sighing he turned away from the outside view, and to his equipment. He stood surrounded by several stands and manikins, in a small dimly lit room that only sported a small bed and a large oak wood door. As of yet he hadn’t adorned his armour, simply gazing at his plated armour, tabard and sword hanging from their respective stands. His lion hide cloak however sat bundled up at the foot of his bed. With only a pair of cotton trousers and a padded leather shirt on his back he approached the first stand which held his under-armour.

Time to prepare for what will be the longest of days... this week has gone fast, faster than it should of...

As he gently placed a hand on a single Mithril link in the chain-armour, a gentle knocking came at the door. Without an answer it opened, to the calm and almost quiet voice of Arador.

“It’s time, you ready—Och, nay even got yer armour on yet!” exclaimed Arador, shrugging his arms with tired despair. The ranger wore a set of almost plate like chain armour that was coloured various dim shades of red and silver. On his head he sported a thin silver crown, obviously so his hair wouldn’t fall across his face while he used the mighty bow that was hung across his back, complete with quiver. Beside the quiver, but crossed over the other shoulder hung his sword in its sheathe, while two short-swords rested from either side of his hips upon his belt. Boasted proudly upon his chest was something he didn’t wear often, the tabard of Stromgarde. He rarely flaunted it, but wore it with fearsome pride.

“This will nay do, come on... I’ll give ya a hand” muttered the ranger, placing his bow and a linen cloth wrapped bundle down as he approached the armour stands.

“You’re not my mother you know...” muttered Seiken, rolling his still sleepy eye.

“I may as well be... now turn around and hold your arms out so mother can dress her little lion hey?” chuckled Arador, a gentle wry grin on his mouth.

Seiken smirked, turning so his back was to the armour stands and raising his arms upward. He could now see back out of the small archer window again, the shades of the horizon quickly changing in readiness for the coming sun.

What seemed a few minutes passed as Arador fiddled around with the chain mail and lifted it from its stand, while seiken watched the coming of sunrise with an eager eye.

Without words, Arador began heaving and lowering the thick mail armour over Seiken, the pair moving around and adjusting it to fit it perfectly.

“Stay still ya oaf! Needs to be just right!” groaned Arador as Seiken slipped his head through the neck gap and slid his arms though the sleeves. The clean shine of the metal was only ruined by what looked like dints and scratches in some patches of chains, which had obviously seen battle.

“There, sorted...” smiled Seiken, before looking back out to the view.

Arador groaned as he began tightening the back straps of the armour, fastening the leather laces together with tight and secure knots.

At least Arador is ready...

“How are the men?” whispered Seiken, turning his head slightly to the left. Arador had finished with the chain mail, and had begun removing pieces of plate armour from their stand.

“Quiet... understandably” spoke the ranger in a hushed tone, placing Seiken solid breastplate around his chest and back, fixing it together tightly. Seiken nodded slowly.

Anxious... or afraid...

“I think they just wanna get on with it, all this waiting and training has them all psyched up, but they don’t know what for” Arador finished, shrugging his shoulders as the last latch n the chest plate was in place. The armour was of gladiatorial design, its thick dark blue plates pieced together perfectly, exposing no visible gaps.

“They are ready then, how about you?” enquired Seiken, using his hands to adjust the armour on his chest into a more comfortable position.
Arador snorted, a small smirk appearing on his lips a second as he removed the varying pieces of leg armour from the stand.

“Fine, as ever, you don’t need to worry about me Lion-boy...” he muttered, as he knelt at Seiken’s side and began fixing the thigh and shin plates of the armour set into position.

You’d be fine even in the worst of situations...

“Well that’s something... ouch! Careful with that!” Seiken snapped, Arador having accidently tightening one strap so much it pushed a sharp piece of mail into his skin.

“Och, cool yer britches moany bum, don’t want you wearing crap armour today of all days eh?” Arador rolled his eyes. Now having finished with one side, he moved around to kneel by the other leg.

Seiken sighed gently, Arador was just being helpful after all. Today would be a bad day for pieces of vital armour to ‘fall off’.

What else is there to worry about? ... Our allies...

“Did you get all those messages to the dwarves, and the Stormwind orders?” Seiken spoke up, having suddenly remembered.

Arador groaned, pulling a strap tight, then fixing a latch into place. The leg armour was in place, being much the same in design as the chest piece, its intricate pieces leaving no proverbial ‘gaps in the armour’.

“I saw them all personally, I’ll have you know. And my answer was the same last night, and every night before. ‘they will see what they can do’ ... alright?” answered the ranger, clearly annoyed he’d had to answer this same question dozens of times before. Standing, Arador stepped back to the stand once more, collecting Seiken’s bracers and gauntlets.

Please let them come... please...

“I’ll not ask again then... let’s just hope they turn up” quietly murmured the prince, his head inclining to a half bowed position.

Arador wasted no time in placing the rest of the armour on him, fixing Seiken’s solid bracers into position without a fuss, and then handing him gauntlets to slide onto his hands. Neither spoke as Arador quietly watched on, a look in his eyes that seiken had never seen before. Those dark blue hawk eyes’ looked almost sad, like a father watching his son as he prepares to leave for war. But it was not so, perhaps Arador knew something seiken did not?

Not like him to be so morbidly silent...

Arador took the tabard and belt from their places, handing first the blood red cloth of their nation’s colours to him, and then his belt. Seiken lifted the tabard over his head, putting it on. The clean and new cloth smelt of ‘new’. Letting it fall down in front of his chest and to his back, he began wrapping and tightening the belt around his waist.

The old Ranger eyed him up and down as he finished. The immaculate colour of blood red with the symbol of the white raven was a beautiful thing to Arathorian’s, all too often did they become completely crimson...

“Aye, good, now stay still while i get yer shoulder plates...” whispered Arador to himself as he stepped toward the stand once more. Two large shoulder plates, jagged and rustic in colour sat idle in their place as Arador began to ‘carefully’ remove them.

Seiken looked once more outside, it was nearly time for the sun to make its appearance. Dim shades of white and yellow began to appear on the very horizon, while light shades of blue where pushed back from atop the quickly fading night sky.

Arador pushed one shoulder plate into position, and began latching into place immediately. It fit perfectly into place and linked with his chest armour without any problems. Before he knew it the second piece was on and ready, fixed into place.

Seiken turned his head to his left Arador stepped out from behind him and took steps toward the bottom of the small bed, picking up the furry bundle that was his cloak.

“Best wear this Lion boy, bit of pride hey?” muttered the ranger with a subtle smirk, unfurling it and wrapping it around Seiken’s shoulders. It fit perfectly as ever, the thick golden brown fur falling down his back while the former beast’s paws stretched over his shoulders, its claws latching into the plates. A feral look, if anything.

At least in death i still look good...

Oh so you do have a sense of humour?

Yes, if a little morbid...

“Perfect, thank you Arador” Seiken smiled, bowing his head. The prince turned and walked toward the stand that only bore one last item. Silver-strand sat leaning against the stands main wooden shaft. The dim glint of silver quietly waiting for him.

“I always meant to ask where you got that thing, wouldn’t mind one like it...” asked Arador, his head tilting to one side as he watched seiken pick the sword up.

Seiken looked over it a moment, inspecting it from blade, to tip and the hilt.

I wish i knew...

“It was a gift, from Zylo. All i know is it has a lot to do with the founding of the strand, and was forged with Truesilver by dwarves...” Seiken shrugged, his eye looking over the array of dwarven runes inscribed up and down the blade.

“It true that thing shattered the dark sphere eh?” asked Arador further, his brow now arched while his eyes shifted to a contemplative stare. Seiken nodded once, looking over to his friend.

“Into dust... and without a scratch” he answered, smiling as he sheathed the blade.

All set...

“Something’s missing i think lad, your lacking a helmet... still” spoke up Arador, with a wry grin as he approached the cloth wrapped bundle he’d previously brought in with him.

“I don’t need a helmet, besides i only got one eye, need all the visibility i can get...” coughed Seiken. He intensely disliked wearing them into battle, one eye meant he needed to keep a wide area of visibility in order to fight properly, something he’d struggled to do when he first lost his left one.

“Pfft, nay worry, this will be perfect...” uttered Arador as he slowly unwrapped the bundle. As the last layer of cloth was moved aside, a furry mass was exposed. Though as Arador turned it to show Seiken, it became obvious what it was.

A helmet, but no normal one, it was fur covered all over. The fur and hide of a Lions’ head placed upon a helmet. Its jaws wide open and its dark golden brown mane hung behind. Its teeth were large and dagger like, its eye’s full of primal fury. All the detail was there, ears, nose, and hair.

“That’s... that’s, perfect...” Seiken found himself muttering, his jaw dropped in awe. Arador gently lifted the helmet up to place opon his head. Seiken obliged and knelt as he did so. The interior passed his eye’s as it slid on, under the hide it was constructed from solid sliding plates. As it fitted into position, Seiken grinned, he was looking out the beast’s mouth.

Seiken stood up slowly, looking around. His field of view was much the same. As he stood upright completely, the helmets furry mane slid down his back, his appearance becoming feral and proud as it melded perfectly with his cloak.

“Thank you, Friend, a gift i can never repay you for...” Seiken found himself saying as he looked himself over.

“No problem, now let’s move along, everyone will be outside waiting for us” urged Arador with sage nod and a smile. Turning his back he picked up his bow as he passed it, Seiken following him out the door.

The pair moved through the keep without any haste, it was quiet and not a soul could be seen aside from the occasional garrison guard stirring from sleep. Descending down the stairway they still met no familiar faces, passing through the central hall, and then the side corridors. The main gate now loomed into view, its steel portcullis hanging overhead, torches flickering with their flames in the wind at its sides.

Turning the corner to face the outward pair, they were both greeted by the sun-rise. The sudden appearance of illuminating light blinded them a moment, but before long their eyes adjusted to see what was in front of them.

Lining both sides of the road leading to the garrison stood the disciples and the soldiers of Arathor. Aarian, Docer, Lavitz, Exaythe, Trohad, Antirius and the rest, all sat upon their steeds, waiting and ready to go. Each was in full battle armour, man and horse. Though one in particular stood out, a paladin in judgement armour sat atop a golden charger, no tabard upon his chest. Though his identity was obvious, above his head flew a great banner atop a lance. The Banner of the grand alliance, the proud ‘L’ of Lordaeron weaved with golden thread upon a field of blue, surrounded by various other symbols of the Alliance nations.

“Are you ready?” asked Arador quietly as he looked out at the gathering waiting for them.

Seiken nodded slowly, the motion just noticeable now that he wore his new helmet.

“Let this day be one that our enemy’s will never forget...”