Enoch was back in Vitro’s gallery room looking at attire. There were two main differences from last time though. One: he was not alone. Ripley and Coulter were also with him, adding a significant boost to the competence involved in the purchase. Number two: He knew more about what he personally wanted out of the garb, which was intended to be his scout attire.
This was only the first of six stops planned for the day. Tailor, Smithy, Imbuery, lunch, then… Well, Enoch had been told that the last two stops were a secret. He focused when Vitro entered the room again, this time with a wooden box the size of his chest. “Sorry, Mr. Aadland and Mr. House! I was preparing for you a box of samples that would suit what you told my assistant you required. Please, let us get started.”
Enoch stood up, Ripley remaining seated and Coulter ready to attend while standing behind the chair. “Vitro, good to see you again. Where should we start?” He asked.
Vitro set the box on the table, “It depends on where you think is most important: the mechanical functions of the clothing, or the magical functioning of the material.”
Ripley cleared his throat, “The mechanics are more important.” Enoch nodded, and Vitro understood. He took his place by the spot where the mannequin would be appearing.
Vitro gestured and the curtain parted, revealing seven mannequins. They were all varying shades of gray, and the outfits were all quite… varied. Vitro started on the far left mannequin, “Right here, I show you the most common scouting garb in Aordia: the simple tights. They are without complication, they don’t snag, and they don’t bind. They are quite budget friendly too, as they waste very little material. Their largest flaw, as any experienced scout will tell you, is that the minimal nature of the clothes means they don’t have much room for enchantment or, as silly as you might think it sounds, fashion.”
Enoch squinted confusedly, “Fashion? Why would fashion matter?”
Vitro nearly spoke up when Ripley cut in, “These clothes will likely be what you wear for the rest of your life as a scout, and you always forget that if you get stronger, you will live for many more years. Fashion isn’t a priority, but tights are… exceptional in their lack of appeal.”
“I guess, but you only wear them when you’re scouting.” Enoch muttered. Ripley laughed, as did Vitro. Enoch looked at them, then noticed Coulter stifling a small chuckle, “What?”
“Because, Mr. Aadland, you won’t scouting for a long, time. Your soon-to-be peers have missions that can take north of a week to complete. Sure, some scout find a way to do all the small, short jobs, but I don’t get a feeling of mediocrity and laziness from you.” Vitro said.
Enoch laughed at the last part, “You don’t know me then. Where I’m from, I have something of a reputation for laziness.”
Ripley waved a hand dismissively, “Laziness and not liking to do uninteresting work are two different things. You’re able to do work, even if it grates your nerves. I’d say you’re reputation where you come from is unearned.”
Enoch shrugged, “Well, I certainly am motivated. Can we get back to clothes though? Tights aren’t for me, by the way.”
Vitro nodded, moving to the next down the line. “Next is the usual armor, common among scouts, mercs, guards, and soldiers. Dragonette style.” He pointed to armor that Enoch would call leather armor. It was a few pieces of leather, thicker in the torso and where any arteries might be. There were some straps and bandoliers, though Enoch didn’t know what they would hold since guns were not a thing in this world.
Ripley nodded, “If you wind up not knowing what you want, this is where you’ll want to start. It’s effective, adaptable, and similar enough to all the others.”
Enoch squinted, “Why do you call it dragonette armor? It looks like normal leather armor.”
“Well, dragonette armor comes in all sorts of materials. It wouldn’t make sense to call armor made of cloth ‘leather’ armor, right? Also, dragonettes are well-known for having thin skin with defensive properties greater than their male counterparts.”
Enoch nodded, “Fair enough.” He pointed to the armor on the far right, “What’s that?”
Vitro walked over to it and sighed, “A nightmare, is what it is. But it exists for a reason. is charm-weave. Unless you are a confrontational illusionist, I don’t recommend it.”
Enoch looked over the “armor” again, not really seeing anything about it that was practical. It was, to put it mildly, a mess. It looked like a blob of cloth, folded, wrapping, stitched, tied, going every which way. It looked extremely heavy, too.
Ripley chimed in, “The excess cloth may look like it gets in the way, but it actually is helps greatly with illusions. As I’ve taught you, illusions are far more convincing when they are at least partially based on real objects. I’ve seen a handful of illusionist close-combat specialists, who colloquially refer to themselves as mirage monks or glamour knights. They all wear this, as it makes it easy to make their opponent see one thing while they are doing another. It makes dodging easy, and attacking easier. You have to be careful when you duel these people, or they’ll have you on the ground before you even know the duel began.”
“Huh… Well, I’m no illusionist. What next?”
Vitro pointed to three sets, “Plate, scale, and wire mail. Pretty simply, plate is heavy but unbreakable, wire is light and flexible, yet isn’t as good defensively, then scale, which is the combination of both worlds, with only some of their weakness. They come mostly in metals, though some materials are conducive to forging. Wire is probably the most material-restrictive, as it requires the material itself to be capable of great length, or welding.”
Enoch took a closer look at the wire-mail. It was like a knitted sweater, only of metal. He went over to it, grabbing it with his hands, and was surprised. It felt like cold canvas, not like wire mesh. He looked at the last mannequin, which looked to have nothing but a cloak. Vitro noticed his shifting gaze, “That is not an armor piece. You’ve already looked at them all. That is a cloak, and it is the most important part of your armor, in regards to being a scout. It is highly conducive to concealment and stealth enchantments, and also provides a uniformity to scouts. It is required to wear a cloak while scouting, even if it is non-magical.”
Ripley cut in again, “True, but only the very newest and poorest scouts use an unenchanted cloak. Once you use one, you’ll never enter a mission without one again, even as a merc. You have money, Enoch, so don’t cheap out here. For you, your priority should be cloak, armor type, armor material, then enchantments.”
Enoch nodded, “Okay. I guess I’ll take a cloak too, th–”
Vitro held up a hand, “No no, Mr. Aadland. A cloak is like the calling card of a scout. If you use an ordinary one, it almost screams that you aren’t there to be noticed. It sounds odd, as the cloak’s purpose is so monsters and criminals don’t notice you, but we’re speaking socially here.”
Enoch looked to Ripley to confirm, and he nodded. Enoch sighed, “Uh, fine. Can I do that later, though? I’d like to get everything else sorted.”
Vitro nodded, “Very good. Now, what armor would you like? We can go the fully custom route, but these templates are normally a good starting point.”
“I would just like to say, Enoch, that because of your peculiarity, you’ll do fine physically in any armor. Don’t think you’ll be hampered by heavy armor.” Ripley said.
Enoch nodded, “You’re right. I think scale mail is best here.”
Vitro wrote it down, “Okay. Now, what were you thinking for enchantments?” Enoch pointed to Ripley.
Ripley pulled a list from his bag and handed it to Vitro.
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Vitro raised his eyebrows, “Quite the suite of enchantments for beginner armor. Are you sure?”
Ripley nodded, grinning, “I am. Mr. Aadland has been unfortunate enough, so its time he gets a little bit of karma. Also, it will make sure that he always has to excel in order to enjoy these comforts and conveniences.”
Enoch raised a hand, “Can you include some type of storage component in the armor, easy to access? I’ve done a little bit of independent research on rituals, and there seems to be a few that would be pretty helpful in the field.”
Ripley looked impressed, “Look at that! I thought I’d run you ragged, but I suppose you still had some energy.”
Enoch nodded, “What can I say, I’m eager for my new job. Also, rituals seem to be a good way of researching the esoteric, which includes dimensional travel. I don’t want to put all my eggs in one basket, so to speak, and invest wholly in finding someone to do it for me.”
Ripley nodded, respecting the decision. Vitro looked slightly confused, but he ignored it, “I can certainly include a ritual pouch. If you would like, I can include a quick access feature and a temporal stasis rune. Since those are rank irrespective, they’re costly, but they will serve you as long as you’d like.”
Enoch gave a thumbs up, “Sounds good.”
Vitro wrote it down, then gestured at the wooden box, “Time for the most exciting and bank-breaking part of the process: material selection.” He unclasped a few locking bits around the fine wooden box, then opened it in the same manner a tackle box would be opened. Inside were small cuts of cloth and leathers, small bits of string, then another section with lots of odd bits and vials of solids, liquids and gasses.
Ripley leaned in, looking inside the box. He chuckled, “This will take a while. This will be difficult to decide on.”
Vitro smiled wryly, “Indeed. The enchantments requested happen to be very easy to get along with. Not a lot of materials reject them, so nearly everything can take them.”
Enoch sighed, “That’s a good thing, I guess. Nothing to it but to do it, I guess.”
…
Enoch walked out of the tailor with Ripley, tired. Ripley slapped him on the back, “Cheer up, son! You should have some brand new armor with some fancy enchantments by the end of today!”
Enoch shrugged, “Yeah, but that was exhausting. Will the smith be like that?”
“Not even a little bit. Let me tell you, this smith I’m taking you to, its better to just tell him what you need without too much specific detail. He knows what he is doing. Also, he specializes in growth weapons. They make it to Topaz too.”
Enoch slapped his cheeks, “Let's go then. You’re sure Coulter is fine just staying here? Its gonna take a while, right?”
Ripley nodded, “It’s his job, so yes he doesn’t have a problem. Also, he can do some personal introspection. He’s on the verge of ranking up. Let’s go.”
When they arrived at the smith’s shop, a bored child was at the counter. The racks were all empty, and quite dusty. In fact, the only part of the store not covered in dust was the path to the counter and the counter itself. Ripley unwaveringly strode forward, leaning on the counter as he grinned at the child.
Enoch walked up beside him and looked closer at the kid, noticing something odd… “How are ya, you quacking tight-rear!” the “kid” said in a squeaky, yet mature (ish) voice.
Ripley extended a hand, “Not bad, you half-shinned muffin man.” They shook hands, the interaction awkward because of the size difference. Enoch was confused.
Ripley looked at him and gestured to the other person, “Enoch, let me introduce you to Platyus Malkajora, the finest smith in Aordia–”
“The world, boy, THE WORLD! Enoch, eh? Sounds like a teat-suckling mama’s boy name, hahahahaha!!!” the… man said?
Enoch was taken aback, “That’s rich coming from a kid. Where are your parents at?”
Ripley raised a brow, and Platyus’ chortle was choked out. “Kid?...” Enoch looked at Ripley, unsure, when all he got back was a smile.
Platypus burst out laughing again, and Enoch relaxed. The short person spoke, “Not very original, but it certainly is good, coming from someone who’s never met a gnome! Good to meet ya. Ma name’s Platyus, the BEST SMITH THIS SIDE OF THE BARRENS I SAY!!!”
Enoch chuckled, the gnomes' antics all making sense now. After all, he was a They do gnome stuff. Ripley cut Enoch off, “We need a custom order, and we need it fast. How quick can you have it done?”
Platyus snorted, “Faster than you can blink, ya lout. Whadoya need, boyo?”
Ripley looked to Enoch, who ran a hand over the short hair he’d regrown. “I want a claymore, but heavier and with a more cut-focused center-mass.”
Platyus raised a brow, “Do ya now… I thought ya knew me, big House. How will ya be usin the blade, youngin? Monster cullin’, sword dancin’, or king beheadin’?”
Enoch remembered what Ripley had said, “Ah, sorry. I’m a scout, but I don’t plan on using that sword unless I’m found, in which case stealth is out of the question.”
Platyus sighed, “No no no, boyo, ya’ve gotta tell me . What facets do you have, what aspirations, what lines you won’t cross, what you want out of life?”
Enoch looked at Ripley, and then sighed, “You got chairs, Platyus?”
…
Bentley was operating at full capacity. He was facilitating communications between eight team members, all separated to perform tasks. They all needed information gathered by other team members, and Bentley’s job was to make sure all that information was acquired. It was a niche part of his powerset, but he enjoyed the stress of using it.
The frontline tank of the merc band he was coordinating found a key that the band’s scout needed in order to access an armory that they couldn’t afford to let remain if they still planned to attack that night. Bentley quickly conjured three small gates, looking like a vertical disc of swirling water. One by himself, one next to the tank, and another next to the scout. Bentley retrieved the key then threw it through the other gate to the scout.
Bentley was about to commence the attack on the miner’s compound when suddenly the world went black. Bentley groaned loudly, “Heyyyyy! Why would you do that?!”
A very motherly voice came from somewhere beside him, “Because, my son, you are living under my roof, which means you must do as I say, and I have told you, repeatedly, that if you continue to not even try to search for employment, then you must take to the needs of the family.”
Bentley reached for his head and ripped the headset off, glaring at his mother, “I trying to find an employer! I just haven’t found the right one yet, okay? And what I’m doing right now is practicing.”
Benley’s mother scoffed, crossing her small, clawed fingers in a clasp, “My dear boy, we Pringleworths are respected keepers of houses, combat management. We’ve been over this.”
Bentley snorted, “I know that, and I do want to continue the family work, but I want more than simple stewarding work. I want some adventure!”
His mother sighed, bringing her forehead to her hands, “You’ll be the end of me, Bentley. Well, regardless of your opinion, as long as you live here without a job, the family is happy to put you to work. You have a task.”
Bentley sighed, “Fine. What is it?”
She pulled a small leather pouch covered in small, gold-etched runes, “Deliver this to Coulter. You can stay with your brother as long as Mr. House will let you, though we do not encourage it. It’s rumored he’s taken a liking to one of his newest students. The first he’s taken since his move to Aordia, in fact. I don’t want you interfering or stifling him, but… well, I’ll stop pestering. You know your manners.”
Bentley perked up. He always liked hanging out with Coulter, and Ripley had always been a swell guy to be around. “Okay. Have anything you want me to say to Colt?”
“No, dear… Sorry if I sounded harsh there. Please know that all I want for you is to find purpose and prosperity in our family’s legacy.”
Bentley walked over and hugged his mom, “I know. And I hope you know that I don’t want to waste away here.”
They both nodded before breaking the hug. Bentley took the pouch and began to prepare for travel. His mother left, the same way she always did: slowly.
…
Enoch walked out of Platyus’ shop with… a sword. A claymore, yes, but it didn’t do anything magical except being able to drastically increase it’s durability each rank. There was a ritual he had to memorize, but it was paltry. Mainly because he just slapped it into the archive and called it a day. Otherwise it was a hunk of sharpened metal, which happened to be in a shape and balance suited to both cuts and thrusts. Their next stop was meant to rectify that. Ripley guided them towards the local imbuery.
When they walked through the door, something caught Enoch’s attention. Kiosks. Confused, he walked right over to one and began to interact with the user-friendly interface. Ripley followed along, intrigued.
Enoch chuckled, “How odd…” A few minutes later, a solid few pages of ‘optimistic’ enchantment ideas were scrawled across the tablet that replaced a typical screen. Enoch had been genuine in his ideas, but Ripley’s chuckles as he reached over and wrote something impractical let Enoch know there was a relationship between the two.
After submitting the text into the queue, Enoch took a seat in one of the three chairs next to his kiosk. He gestured at the other and waited for Ripley to sit. “How do you know this guy?”
“That obvious? He was a pseudo-student of mine, so to speak. One might also say I was a student of his, though that “one” would have to be pretty bold. Anyways, he came to me wanting to gain a practical education on how enchantments are used by mercs, and he taught me some stuff about enchantments in turn. For example, you can overcharge runes and imbue enchantments by sprinkling refined fish dust on them.”
Enoch rolled his eyes, “At least try when you make a bold-faced lie.”
Ripley chuckled, “Fine. But the student part is true. That’s why I trust him with all my more important enchantments; I know what he knows.”
Enoch was about to comment when a flare of light came from the kiosk. Standing to read it, Enoch was quickly taken aback by the monolith of a text block that had appeared.
Essentially, it was a long winded reprimand for clogging his ‘refined works of art’ with ‘useless, pixie-headed delusions’ and ‘uselessly long and emotional explanations.’ The irony was apparent. All that was important to Enoch was the last bit, concerning the actual feasibility of some of his ideas. Some seemed to have been thrown in the ‘useless, pixie-headed delusions’ category, which was enough for Enoch to know the idea was not going to be accomplished by this man, at least.
