93 New Weapons

"Eight is how many legs a spider has." Frey recited the text and, without waiting for Liz to nod, flipped to the next page. "Nine men." Liz waited in silent observance. He kept flipping until he was halfway done with the book to ask questions. He kept his head above the desk and his eyes wide open. The sun rose from the top of the mountains to the middle of the sky as Frey moved his eyes from one end of the page to the next.

"T-That does it for reading," Liz said as she pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed the sweat off her forehead. "N-now onto writing." Frey grabbed a quill, dipped it in the ink, and wrote on blank pages. The dusty room filled with scratches of quill on paper and the smell of fresh ink.

Liz sat behind him, nearly falling to sleep herself, indecisive if she should hit him for his sloppy handwriting or commend him for learning so fast. 'The writing actually looks a little legible.' She frowned, knowing that she should be happier. This was her goal, yet as Frey filled up the page with letters, her frown drooped more. 'This is too fast. Is the lord playing a prank on little old me?'

A knock at the front door gave her a much-needed distraction. "I will get it. Keep writing." She hurried out of the room and opened the front door wearing a maid's warm smile. Seeing no one, she was about to shut the door when a cough met her ears. Glancing down made her jump, for there was a massive Dwarf with a large package bound with leather and fine cloth. Replacing her fear with a smile, she bowed. The Dwarf's smell made her regret that. He smelled worse than Jameson after practicing. "Hello, welcome to the Virility household. What business do you have here?"

The Dwarf shoved the package in her arms and mumbled, "This is for Doevm and Frey," before hopping back into his carriage. Liz tried to stop him, but he was already gone by the time she realized she was holding the package. She groaned, as whatever was in the package, it was too heavy for her old bones. She called one of the guards, who helped her drag it to Frey's room.

"Frey," She gasped as she and a guard set the large package against the wall. "This was for you." Frey turned around, his eyes flashing recognition before reverting back to a sharp focus developed over the past week. He took the letter from the packaging and put it in his pocket.

"They're weapons. I'll go tell Doevm after we're done for the day." He handed a piece of paper to Liz, filled with letters and numbers from top to bottom, front to back.

As Liz read it, her frown deepened. Each letter was another piece of dust in her lungs, and each number, water in her old beady eyes: "No need, you can go."

Liz held Frey's paper up, the ink having yet to dry. "In a week and a few days, you've nearly completed everything. The other half of that book is practically a dictionary. It should have taken you months for this." She blew on the ink, then folded the paper and put it in her pocket. "I need to sort out more material with you and ask permission from the lord to borrow it. In that time, go do whatever you want. The dictionary is for you whenever you come across a word you don't know how to spell or don't know the meaning of."

…

Frey picked up his things and left, unsure if he should thank her for her time, or curse at her for his probably head wound. The package, he found to be quite light under a single arm. He hurried through the front yard, nearly tripping on his own two feet. Inside the Pit, Doevm and Jameson were in the middle of drilling. Jameson turned to Frey. "What are you doing here? You should be learning how to read and write."

"I finished," Frey chuckled as he held out the letter attached to the package. "Look, I can show you. This letter says: to Doevm and Frey. I made some slight changes to your weapons," Frey had to read 'weapons' slowly and sound it out. "to better suit you two. Doevm, with your dagger, I have added more heat and sharpened it. Frey, your weapons are self-expliinotaree."

"Self-explanatory." Doevm corrected as he walked over to the package. "You spelled it wrong."

"Don't you mean read it wrong?" Frey asked as he looked the word up in the dictionary. Next to the word, he found the definition and recited it several times in his head, an idea he thought up himself in a dream.

"I don't know anymore." Doevm brought out his spear and opened the package. In the first layer, among Doevm's many newly sharpened throwing knives and dagger were a sword and spear. Frey picked them up, admiring the black blades shining in the light.

The sword was, despite being lighter than expected, heavy along its black, curved blade made of Meteoric steel. Many intricate carvings and runes ran along its spine. The grip was wrapped in rough brown leather, and the flat guard separating the blade from the hilt was a simple thick point. As he took practice swings, the heavy tip prevented him from handling it like a typical sword. He rubbed his chin. Doevm must have read his mind because he said, "It's for more for hacking, not slashing, although it can do both. Think of it like a hatchet. It's called a kopis."

"Maybe I just need to get used to it." He eyes fell to his old Bloodwood Spear. It had been shortened, but it was still taller than him. The tip had been replaced with the same Meteoric steel as his sword. A single, sharp leaf-shaped tip jutted out like a fang. The other side had a small spur meant for finishing off opponents. He gripped on the leather wrapped around at the center.

Jameson stepped up to the spear and held out a hand. "May I?" Frey handed it over and Jameson swung it around. "I haven't had much practice with this kind of spear, but I still remember the moves." The more moves he did, the more the image of Kilot overlapped with him. Instead of only stabbing, the spear flew around his hands and body almost like a sword, slashing at imaginary enemies. "While good for slashing and stabbing at range, you shouldn't rely on this. When you need to discard it, throw it." He raised one foot, and moved the spear in a straight line, parallel to the ground, letting it fly into one of the dummies at the back. Straw exploded everywhere. Jameson moved his throwing arm in circles. "That's pretty good. What else is there?"

Doevm flipped through the rest of the leather to find two sets of armor. He grabbed the lighter set of armor: a chain mail with occasional plates melted onto the vital spots. Wrist guards, shin guards, and a special sheath for the dagger were all a dark colored leather with scales of metal for the outer shell. Doevm put the set on and moved around, finding that he moved at the same speed as normal. The chain mail, despite being a set of metal chains, made little noise and wasn't flashy. Only a slight jingling as his dagger or spear ripped through the air.

By the time Doevm finished testing his armor, Frey found his new armor. Unlike Doevm's light and maneuverable gear, his was thick and heavy. The breastplate was essentially two slabs of steel that were connected with some leather; however it didn't dig into his skin nor did it restrict much movement. Among the armor for the extremities; the greaves, arm guards, and the sheaths, the helmet stood on top as if ruling over the rest.

From the back, it seemed like a simple full helm, leaving space for the ears. Flipping it around, he found the front was different than anything he had seen before. It had two eye-shaped holes with a point down the middle of them, parallel to his nose, stopping before his mouth. Down the top was a thin metal mohawk. In the shadows behind the eyeholes lay a creature waiting for battle. Holding the helm in front of him allowed whatever was inside it to stare at him. It seemed to reject and accept him at the same time with its dark, empty, metal exterior. He put it on, finding that it fit perfectly.

He donned the rest of his armor. A certain weight barred down on him, but not the kind that holds you down. No, it was a weight added to his body, to his strikes, and to his mind. It was as if he grew another foot. If he compared this to the other pieces of armor he had worn over the years, everything else was merely tissue paper. The weight was behind his steps, the clinks his boots made as they dug into the soil, and the way it held against his skin, a newly discovered part of himself.

He equipped his new weapons. His shield was held in front of him yet close enough for his breath to touch. The spear rested on the opening at the top of his shield, like a snake coiled up. The kopis holstered at his waist pulled at his hip as if were a child asking its parent when it could play. The inside of the helm still smelled of the fire from Kilot's forge. Everything felt heavy. He got into a stance and tested a few moves, slashing through imaginary Kilot after imaginary Kilot.

"That's a good look," Jameson said. "Just make sure you don't get too cocky. Armor is great, but you can't charge into battle expecting it to defend you against everything."

"I know," Frey stood up and took off his helm. The breastplate was hard to take off, relying on several thick belt-like locks to undo. His other pieces, on the other hand, slid off after undoing a single lock. After putting the suit back in his spatial ring, he held his weapons up. "So, what are we practicing today?"