Dromos 30 – Anemoi 5, Imperial Year 1644
The Free City of Velathri – The Merchant's Warehouse
The mission had taken five days.
Hound, Sparrow, and Rook had tracked the merchant – a man named Cosimo Gallo – through the winding streets of Velathri's port district. The evidence was thin at first: a ledger with missing pages, a ship that arrived at odd hours, whispers from dockworkers who feared to speak. Rook had spent two days in the records office, cross‑referencing shipping manifests and tax filings. Hound had watched the warehouse from a rooftop, noting the comings and goings. Sparrow had befriended a serving girl at a tavern frequented by Gallo's men.
On the third day, they found the proof.
A hidden compartment in the warehouse floor contained crates of embargoed weapons – swords, crossbows, and a small quantity of alchemical fire. Gallo was not merely a smuggler. He was arming a rebel faction in the southern provinces.
"We have enough," Rook said, closing his notebook. "We can take this to the city council."
"The council is bribed," Hound said. "You know that."
"Then what do you suggest?"
Hound looked at Sparrow. She nodded.
"We confront him," Hound said. "Give him a chance to surrender. If he resists…"
"Then we use the weapons," Sparrow finished.
Dromos 32, Imperial Year 1644
Cosimo Gallo's Warehouse – Night
Gallo was a fat man with quick eyes and faster hands. He sat at a desk in the back of the warehouse, counting coins. Two guards stood by the door.
Hound entered first, his sword drawn. Sparrow covered him from a stack of crates, her bow trained on the guards. Rook stayed at the entrance, his gauntlet ready.
"Cosimo Gallo," Hound said. "You are accused of smuggling weapons, evading tariffs, and arming rebels. Surrender peacefully."
Gallo's eyes darted. "I do not know what you are talking about."
"The crates under the floorboards say otherwise."
The guards drew their swords. Sparrow's bow thrummed – one arrow, then another. Both guards dropped, arrows in their shoulders, alive but disabled.
Gallo reached for a dagger.
Hound was faster. He crossed the room in three strides, swept Gallo's dagger aside with his blade, and pressed the tip to the merchant's throat.
"Last chance."
Gallo froze. "I surrender."
They bound his hands, confiscated the evidence, and delivered him to a magistrate who was not on Gallo's payroll – a young woman with a reputation for honesty. She promised a fair trial.
The mission was complete.
Anemoi 5, Imperial Year 1644
The Secondary Workshop – Return
Vlad was waiting when they returned. The workshop was warm, the alchemical bulbs glowing. He stood by the workbench, his back to them.
"Report," he said.
Hound stepped forward. "Gallo is in custody. The evidence is solid. He will not see freedom again."
"Casualties?"
"Two guards. Non‑lethal. Sparrow's arrows struck shoulders."
"And your weapons?"
Hound touched his sword. "The blade performed as you promised. The hidden dagger was not needed."
Sparrow unstrung her bow. "The compound mechanism worked perfectly. The arrows flew faster than I expected."
Rook held up his gauntlet. "I did not fire. But it was reassuring to have."
Vlad turned. "Good. You have proven yourselves. Now it is time for the next phase."
He walked to a cabinet and opened it. Inside hung three sets of armor.
"These are for you," Vlad said. "Custom‑fitted. Designed for mobility and protection."
The Hound's armor was a half‑suit of hardened leather and steel plates – chest, shoulders, forearms, and greaves. The leather was dark brown, almost black, treated to resist water and fire. The steel was thin but strong, layered over vital areas.
"You are a front‑line fighter," Vlad said. "You need protection without sacrificing speed. The leather is boiled and waxed – it will turn aside a knife or an arrow. The steel plates will stop a sword."
The Hound touched the chest piece. "It is lighter than I expected."
"I used a different alloy. Stronger than common steel, thinner. Try it on."
The Hound donned the armor. It fit perfectly – snug but not restrictive. He moved through a few practice cuts. His range of motion was unimpeded.
"And this," Vlad said, lifting a shield from the workbench.
The shield was round, about two feet in diameter, made of layered wood and steel. The outer face was painted black, with the Geass crest in silver. The inner face was lined with leather, with two leather straps for the arm.
"A buckler‑style shield. Light enough to carry, strong enough to block a sword."
The Hound strapped it to his arm. "It feels balanced."
"Now press the release on the inner rim."
The Hound found the stud and pressed. A blade slid out from the inner side – a short, broad dagger, fixed to the shield's interior.
"For close quarters," Vlad said. "When you have no time to draw your sword."
The Hound examined the blade. "And this?"
He pressed another stud. An axe head swung out from the opposite side – a small hand axe, stored flush against the shield's inner curve.
"Two weapons. One shield. Do not lose it."
The Hound smiled – a rare expression. "I will not."
Sparrow's armor was lighter – a reinforced leather jerkin, bracers, and leg guards. The leather was treated to be flexible, allowing her full range of motion for drawing her bow.
"You need mobility above all," Vlad said. "The jerkin has steel plates sewn into the chest and back – enough to stop an arrow. The bracers are hardened leather, to protect your forearms from string slap and blades."
Sparrow tested the draw. The armor did not restrict her.
"And this," Vlad said, handing her a small steel cap – a half‑helmet, open‑faced, with a leather lining. "It will not stop a direct blow, but it will deflect glancing strikes."
She placed it on her head. It was light, comfortable.
"Thank you," she said.
Rook's armor was the simplest – a padded jack of quilted cloth and leather, with steel plates sewn into the chest. No helmet, no bracers.
"You are not a fighter," Vlad said. "Your job is to observe and analyze. But if you are caught in a fight, this will give you a chance to run."
Rook touched the padded jack. "It is heavier than I expected."
"The weight will slow you. That is intentional. It will remind you not to be reckless."
Rook nodded. "Understood."
Anemoi 5, Imperial Year 1644 (continued)
The Workshop – Final Words
The three knights stood in their new armor. Hound with his shield, Sparrow with her bow, Rook with his gauntlet. They looked like a unit – not an army, but something more precise. Something Vlad had built.
"You are ready," Vlad said. "Not perfect. Not invincible. But ready."
Hound looked at the shield on his arm. "The hidden weapons. The axe, the blade. You designed these for me?"
"I designed them for the mission. You are the one who will use them."
Sparrow adjusted her bracers. "What is our next target?"
Vlad walked to the map table. He pointed to a town in the mountains.
"A slaver. He operates openly, protected by a corrupt lord. The evidence is already compiled. You will investigate, confirm, and act."
"And if he resists?" Rook asked.
"Then you have your weapons. Use them wisely."
The knights nodded.
They left the workshop, their footsteps echoing on the stone.
Vlad watched them go.
They are becoming something, he thought. Not just knights. A family.
He turned back to his workbench.
There was always more to build.
End of Chapter Thirty