The immortal wizards were the most powerful humans ever to walk the planet Tharia, but the wars between them devastated the planet and the whole world breathed a sigh of relief when the last of them was killed. In an attempt to cheat death, though...
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"I was wondering when we'd see these," said Matthew, holding up the glittering suit of glass ceramic plate mail armour and gazing at it admiringly. "We first saw these things more than twenty years ago, and once the treaty of Kronos was signed I thought we'd be buying them for everybody in the army. I thought, a year or two from now, everyone in the Beltharan army will be wearing these."
"The moon trogs make these?" asked Bobby Fell, dubiously eyeing the suit he'd been issued.
"Yep," replied Matthew. "They're superior to any other kind of armour I've ever heard of, and the moon trogs need water and plant seeds to replenish their crops. It's a perfect arrangement, so I can't understand what took them so long."
"But it's just glass," protested Fell. "How's this going to stop an arrow, or a sword?"
Matthew grinned and draped his suit over the back of a chair. Then he drew Bobby's sword from its scabbard and handed it to him. "See for yourself," he said. He gestured invitingly at the suit. "Go on!"
Fell stared at the glittering suit, then stared at Matthew, who grinned wider and repeated the gesture. Fell shrugged and stabbed the suit with the point of his sword, hard enough to pierce the heart of an unarmoured man. The chair screeched across the floor, tipping up onto its two front legs, but the suit was undamaged.
The Able Wingman frowned, then chopped at it with the edge of the blade, hard enough to sever a man's arm. The chair was knocked over onto its side but again the suit was unharmed. Fell scowled suspiciously and swung the sword with all his strength. The chair was smashed to pieces, the back splintering with a loud crunch, a leg breaking off with a snap, but when Matthew removed the suit from the wreckage it showed only a minor scratch on one of the ceramic scales, while the chair looked as though it had been smashed with a hammer rather than a razor sharp sword.
"By the Gods," breathed the Able Wingman in astonishment.
"Good, aren't they?" said Matthew, still gazing admiringly at the suit. "Of course, it's little protection against a battle hammer or a mace, but against arrows and small swords they're the thing! I wonder if everyone's getting these, or just us?"
"Are you going to stand there all day staring at it, or are you going to put it on?" laughed Private George Stone, the only army man among the four Beltharan military men. He and Able Seaman Borlin Bakklan, the naval man, were already wearing their suits and were putting their uniforms back on top of them, including the now largely superfluous steel breastplates. The Beltharan top brass, although impressed by the moon trog glass ceramic, were not convinced that any kind of plate mail could provide the same level of protection as a good layer of steel, and of course they were right, and so the four Beltharans would wear two layers of armour over their upper bodies, making them probably the most indestructible two legged living creatures on the planet. It worried Matthew a little, making him wonder what their superiors expected them to meet, that they would need that level of protection.
