The Lance was much more receptive to the idea of training to win the joint exercises than he'd expected, though maybe shouldn't have been surprised. That little competition was the first time where his Lance had actually been seen to be good at something, and that had been the moment where they had shifted from being the loser Lance to the promising up-and-comers.

Even now, they couldn't claim to be as good in a fight as the more experienced Lances. After all, there was little in the world that could contend with four men with [Inexhaustible] supported by six cream-of-the-crop specialists. But this was something that Cid's Lance could win at, and they were determined to make it happen.

It started in the morning. Long before they needed to be awake, they'd all leave their comfortable barracks where they were waited on by servants to set up tents like they would use in the field. Then they'd exit the tents, pack up camp, prepare their equipment, and make ready, doing everything as fast as possible while being aided by Brin's illusions giving instructions on every step. He only made them do it twice every morning, and then they sat for a moment and talked through any ideas on how they could get better.

He was pleased to see how quickly they returned to their best pace, and that was just the start. New levels meant higher Strength and Dexterity, and they got better every day until they achieved a dizzying pace.

The only issues that arose were in timing. Cowl would finish with the tents a little quicker than normal and get straight into helping with sharpening. Only, that was usually something Brych would help with so he would try to help someone else's job, which created a cascading effect, forcing everyone to shift their roles. Also was the fact that Hedrek kept doing different things every day, making it difficult for people to optimize their own jobs.

The real breakthrough came when Brin introduced a metronome. He created a tapping sound with illusion magic, one tap per second, and then told the men to keep track of how many taps they took to do each of their chores. Then he used that information to set their task list once and for all, with instructions about exactly how many taps each of their tasks should take. Optimizing each of their task lists was exactly the sort of work he'd gotten good at in his last life, and while he wished he had a spreadsheet program to map it all out, the fact that he could assign the work to other threads during boring parts of the day more than made up for it.

The metronome also had the effect of making everyone do things on beat. Meredydd and Brych would sharpen swords at the exact same beat that Cowl and Aeron were polishing armor, and they even started stepping in unison. It looked like a well rehearsed dance, almost performative, until you realized that they were doing this both faster and better than anyone else. They didn't let anything slack in the name of speed; Brin measured the angles and distances with a ruler until he was sure they were getting the distances exactly right, while Meredydd and Cowl checked each piece of equipment to make sure it was all perfect.

The only hiccup was when they asked for horses to practice with. Sir Cronby was hesitant to let them near horses again after getting so many of them killed on their last adventure, but when Cid explained that they just wanted to practice brushing, grooming, and saddling them instead of riding, he'd been more than pleased to lend them out.

After practicing for the joint exercises, the Lance had the rest of their time free. Most of them spent their days training, Brin included. Normally working out was something he did out of a deep-seated need to see the numbers go up, but he'd never had quite as much fun as he did now.

He dueled the men in his Lance, and in other Lances. Sometimes they put on large melees to simulate group combat, and some days they practiced a single move over and over until everyone mastered it. More often than not, an experienced [Knight] would lead the training, and when that happened, they were always treated to a groundbreaking technique that leveraged their high Strength in ways Brin never would have thought of.

His favorite parts were when he got to duel against others from the new Lances. The contest of pitting yourself against another determined fighter, the triumph of victory and the frustration of failure meant that every day was interesting. There was always something new in store.

He was good at it, too. Whether it was riding, fighting, or even concepts as esoteric as carrying out the orders of his commander, Brin took to the life of a knight like a duck to water. [Advanced Knightly Training] was doing a lot of heavy lifting here, he knew, but he was the one who'd developed the Skill in the first place.

For the first time, he started to think that he might've been a half-decent athlete in his old life, if he'd ever joined any teams. When Brin had learned that he was going to train with [Knights] he expected them all to be much better than him in hand to hand combat, and that maybe he could win once in a while by punching up with a Skill. It actually ended up being the opposite. With his high attributes and Hogg's training, he was the match of any of the younger [Knights], except when they used some kind of Skill to overwhelm him.

He could beat Rhun in weapon-only duels, but couldn't get past his defense when he carried a shield. Brin could beat Meredydd until the [Knight of Arms] put Mana into his weapons, using a new and completely unfair Skill called [Skill at Arms] that let him push Mana into any weapon to make it move faster and hit harder, or even fly them in the air. But when Brin started putting Mana into his own weapons he could even the scales again, depending on how much he wanted to use.

Govannon was a creative and wily fighter and with all his training Skills, he improved by leaps and bounds, so Brin was never quite sure who would take the match when he got into the ring with him. He also begrudgingly started practicing with axes, to Brin and Cid's relief. He wouldn't get any armor penetrating Skills until they started leveling again, but it was nice to see it was at least a possibility.

Strangely, it was Hedrek and Cid who were falling behind the rest of the Lance in terms of martial prowess. Hedrek kept trying the routine he and Brin had started, where he would think things through and fight only when he had a plan in mind. He did ok when they stayed to the standard set and some basic derivations, but the more Brin introduced new ideas and stratagems, the worse Hedrek got. He got stressed when he had too many options to choose from and made stupid mistakes, losing fights that he should’ve won.

Cid’s problem was more straightforward; his Skill was actively holding him back. He could move with the same smooth elegance that was normal for him in the standard set, but Brin quickly figured out that that was only due to exhaustive practice. When he branched out from anything he’d drilled on relentlessly, the [Path of the Blade’s] penalty to power and control quickly became evident. He quickly grew frustrated with sparring and Brin often saw him off to the side, practicing his movements alone. Even that was simplified until he chose one move to practice over and over; a simple fencing thrust. He often stayed up late doing the same move over and over and over.

Brin might have felt sorry for him, but Cid actually seemed much more relaxed than normal. His own frustration was offset by the fact that the rest of them were growing by leaps and bounds. They’d actually become a Lance worth being part of.

They always had plenty of time to head over to the civilian camp, to see Sion and get some better food and a break from the army routine. It was strange to think of it this way, but these days marching into Arcaena were some of the nicest and most peaceful days of Brin's life.

If there was one dampener on everything, it was the fact that they were still at war, and that this couldn't last forever.

Every day that passed after that, Brin felt a certain dread that this would be the day that the war would change, that the other shoe would drop and that real fighting would break out. Every day that passed, he was wrong. On the days that he was assigned to the front, the fighting was light. With the field lit by the Eveladis, the army crept forward inch by inch, virtually unopposed. According to rumors, Grimwalt had apparently decided that the few men they'd lost that first day had still been too many and decided to be even more cautious. Now they took even less ground each day, but rarely lost a single soldier.

Some days were boring and there was no fighting at all, and some days were more interesting as the casters threw exploding balls of fire and shields of force that exploded in the air above them. But even that became mundane when nothing ever came of it. Their caster seemed capable of undoing whatever spell Arcaena’s forces threw at them, and the only minor losses they took were when a gang of monsters would erupt from the enemy lines.

Weeks passed. His birthday came and went; the men pooled their meager salaries to buy Brin another Fire Jelly core, a move that had left him embarrassingly teary-eyed the entire rest of the day. He immediately started charging it, storing twice as much Mana as he could hold in his own pool at once. He didn't dare go any further than that, knowing that the core wouldn't give him any warning before it reached its limit and exploded.

Training went extremely well. There were never any big jumps or breakthroughs, but consistent effort still bore fruit, especially now that his training was guided by actual experts.

Strength +6

Dexterity +4

Vitality +1

Magic +2

Mental Control +3

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Will +5

Wyrdic Inspect 45 - 46

Wyrdic Hide Status 26 - 29

Advanced Knightly Training 48 - 60

Shape Glass 47 - 50

Call Light Through Glass 57 - 59

Then, almost without warning, the day finally came that Meaty called him back to the armory tent. His armor was finally done.

When he got to the armory, the rest of the Lance was already waiting, and Cid and Hedrek were both decked out in their new armor; though “new” wasn't exactly accurate in their case. Their sets of armor had already been highly enchanted and expensive, though now it had been repaired and Brin assumed, improved. The metal was back to its bright, pristine and unblemished polish. So shiny it was nearly reflective and so light it could've been mistaken for silver. The sleeping eye, the icon of the Order of the Long Sleep was now much more prominent on Cid's breastplate, and little swirls and geometric designs had been worked into the rest of the pieces to bring it all together. It was a lot different from the simple, plain plate that he'd been wearing before. Was the style changing? Or maybe Cid had changed his own design to be at least a little closer to what he knew Brin would choose. He noticed now that many of the little clasps and smaller pieces were completely transparent. They weren't glass; they were invisible to Brin's glass sense, but anyone else would be fooled. There were still big differences between Cid's armor and what Brin had designed, but now Cid and Brin would at least look like they were in the same Lance.

Hedrek's armor was also back in top shape, with the same bright metal and the same glasslike hardware. His was sturdier-looking and heavier, so while you could technically call him a “knight in shining armor” the overall effect was much more intimidating than heroic.

The rest of the Lance was waiting there as well, in their plain woolen garments since none of them had received their armor yet either. Marksi trotted up last, and Brin was glad he'd made it in time that they could all see it together.

He entered the tent and inside, Meaty stood next to an armor stand with a blanket covering it.

Brin said, “Is this--?”

Meaty dramatically threw the blanket off the armor stand, revealing his newest creation underneath.

Simply put, the armor was beautiful. It was made of the same bright, silvery metal as Cid and Hedrek's with a prominent closed eye on the chest. But where their designs spiraled into generic patterns, every inch of Brin's were decorated with images. Most were dragons, all of them drakes like Marksi, though not all of them had his exact features and face. There were also figures of men and women tucked into the corners and on the shoulders and knees, and after examining them more closely he saw that they were a record of his achievements. Brin striking down a [Witch], Brin and Cid taking on the goblin [Paragon]. Even his fight against a sea monster was there. Meaty had clearly done his homework here.

He also noticed gemstones working into the focal points of the designs, in a way that made it seem like they might be decoration, but Brin thought he could already sense the power thrumming in them.

Marksi was the first to break the silence. He rushed the armor with excited squeaks and ran up and down the armor stand before settling on a big gemstone set into the closed eye on the center of the chest. Brin was afraid he was going to try to eat it, but he just rubbed his cheek against it, apparently relishing the way it felt.

“I had to hire out several parts. The glasswork, the gemstone, and a lot of the enchantments all came from civilian experts, but I tied it all together. It was worth a level for me, too, since it’s got a few more bells and whistles than I normally deal with. Go on, try it on,” said Meaty.

Cowl stepped up to help him, but Brin held a hand out to stop him. He reached out with his glass magic, and the armor responded. It was like it already knew what he wanted. As soon as the power touched the metal, the armor floated towards him. It separated and each piece flew exactly where it needed to go, better than if Brin had been controlling it with the Iron Man program he'd worked out. This was designed by an expert [Armorer] and the armor knew the best way to apply itself.

He held his arms out and they were encased in steel. The gauntlets, pauldrons, breast and back plate, all of it came together, clasping itself correctly just so. The only movement necessary on his part was to step up so that the metal boots could slip themselves on his feet.

Last was the helmet, which settled into his hands as if it knew that he'd want to put it on himself. It had the back like a hussar helmet, but rather than being open-faced there was a mask of metal. It was Brin's own features, with closed eyes and it was completely solid with no nose or eye holes, just flat metal except where exaggerated gouges showed off his best scars. He loved it, but only from the outside. How was he expected to see in this? And it was going to be stuffy with no ventilation.

He tried it on, and it felt like slipping on a pair of expensive sunglasses. The metal was somehow transparent from this side; really transparent because he couldn't feel any illusion magic flowing through it. It made the inside of the tent appear brighter and more detailed than before, possibly fixing a slight near-sidedness.

Rather than being stuffy, the air was fresh, clean and cool. Meaty wasn't kidding when he said it was temperature-controlled. His Vitality prevented the worst of the discomfort from temperature, but he could feel the cooling reducing his sweating. He no longer smelled the ash or the dust that was constantly kicked up from all the well-trod dirt paths. If anything, wearing the helmet was more comfortable than going without it. His Lance was going to have to get used to the helmet's creepy eyeless stare, because he never wanted to take it off.

He lifted his hand, feeling the sheer enormous power and watched his own hands in amazement. Value Sense was telling him that Meaty hadn't skimped with Lumina's money; this was more than that sum should've been able to buy. Even if he never got paid another cent, this armor alone would make his time in the Order extremely lucrative.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Turn it on,” said Meaty.

Brin had already touched it with glass magic, and that had given the armor a strength-amplifying energy that he couldn't wait to try out. Meaty must've meant the other magic. Brin pushed light and sound into the armor, and it sucked it up greedily.

The armor booted up; that was the only way to describe it. A welcome message appeared inside Brin's vision, and then a suit diagnostic; there was no damage, magic stores were low. It showed him a diagram of the armor, with little details to show him how much energy each part of the armor had and where any damage might lie. Then another message appeared, showing him the sub vocalizations he could use to dismiss the diagram and which he could use for further help.

When he dismissed it, a smaller menu showed off to the bottom corner. This showed ten little suits of armor. His, Hedrek's, and Cid's were all green, and then eight were gray to show they weren't online.

“Can you hear this?” Cid asked, and Brin heard both his natural voice as well as a projection from the helmet.

“Whoa. Yeah. That's freaky,” said Brin.

“There are controls to let you... well, never mind I'll show you later. Let's get the rest of the men armored up,” said Cid.

Brin wanted to dash out and start playing with his new toy, but instead he patiently waited for each member of the Lance to receive their own armor in turn.

One by one, Meaty showed them the armor that he'd made for them, and one by one they looked like they'd achieved nirvana when they first put it on. It turned out that even the regular issue armor for knights-at-arms in the Order of the Long Sleep was an incredible artifact. None of them looked at all inferior to the armor that Cid or Brin wore, though of course Value Sense told him that theirs weren't on par with his, but that's not something he would ever bring up. They were each a work of art, with little variations to fit the preferences and capabilities of the wearer, but each of them had the same overall design. They were a Lance, a real unit now. They had been for a while, but now they actually looked the part.

Of all of them, Cowl was the most reserved, possibly hesitant. He stared at the fell-length mirror in Meaty's tent for a long time, maybe wondering if he recognized the man he saw there. It was hard to tell what was going on with Cowl since he was always so quiet. It might be nothing. He might be having a nervous breakdown. Who could tell?

When they left the tent, a page was waiting for them. He gave them instructions to meet sir Crost, their hundred-man commander, for practice. Apparently, they weren't to meet at the dueling grounds, but in the ever-widening gap between their camps and the front lines.

They moved straight there in a light jog, but their light jog was already more than most people's dead sprint. The poor page tried to run in front and show them the way, but after a minute and a half at a dead sprint he stumbled to a stop, pointing out the direction they should go while heaving in great gulps of breath.

Brin didn't feel the slightest bit winded; he might as well have been sitting down. The armor was light as a feather, and if anything, it was carrying him along rather than the other way around. He noticed that the dials showed separate energy bars for glass, light, and sound magics, so he began pumping in all three, trying to fill them up. Light filled up faster than the rest, and he realized he'd need more than one charging session to get his glass magic all the way to the top, so he decided to try to give them an even split without draining more than half his Mana pool. It was interesting that to him, magic was magic and all drew from the same pool, but his armor distinguished between the different flavors.

With a thought, he willed the glass magic in his armor to help him run faster, and it responded with gusto, pushing his arms and legs faster and faster. He quickly sped past the rest of the Lance, though they instantly pushed themselves to catch up, maybe thinking he was starting a race.

“Hey, none of that now,” said Cid. “Back to me for a bit; we should go through some of the features.”

As they ran, Cid showed them how to adjust some of the settings. They could turn off the sound if someone speaking to them was nearby so that there wouldn't be an echo, but they could also block out all sound and only hear what the helmet was projecting from their Lancemates. There were ways to adjust the light sensitivity, and apparently they could use it for night-vision goggles for those that didn't have darkvision, which was everyone except him and Brych.

Brin was a little offended to learn that the helmets could also do heat vision. What, could his [Invisibility] really be countered this easy? Why didn't someone think of the poor [Illusionists] before making something like this. Although, if it was using illusion magic then it probably just picked up infra-red radiation and his [Invisibility] might still work on it. He knew undead heat sense worked like [Rogue] senses. Somehow, they actually sensed the heat itself, but that might not work the same as man made devices.

He switched it on and noticed that he could see Marksi. He wasn't as bright as the running men, but he was clearly visible against the background. The little guy was going to be devastated when he learned that the Lance could spot him now.

A lone figure stood in the barren field in the distance, sir Crost. He held his hands behind his back, and waited until they all lined up in front of him before speaking.

“Welcome, gentlemen. As you have no doubt noticed, the armor given to knights-at-arms of the Order of Long Sleep is not just for show. This is an incredible power, one that none of you have felt before, excluding sir Gurthcid and sir Hedrek, of course. If I'd given you longer to grow acclimated and experiment with its use, you would have come to understand the inherent problem in that, but as we are at war and have no time to spare in bringing you up to full readiness, I'll skip to the end: Everything has changed, and you don't know how to do anything anymore. You will need to relearn how to walk, how to talk, how to run, and especially how to fight. Look sharp, men. Your armor training begins now.”