The Falor of Khaleus: Blade of the Empress

Chapter 12

The forge was filled with the familiar clang of hammers and the heady scent of molten metal, but today, it felt charged with something more. As we stepped inside, I spotted Hephaestus at his workbench, his hulking form hunched over some mysterious project. When he turned around and saw us, his face broke into a grin.

"Ah, you're finally here!" he boomed, his voice like rolling thunder. He motioned us closer, stepping aside to reveal a suit of armor on display behind him.

I stared, speechless. The armor was unlike anything I had ever seen—brilliant silver, polished to a mirror shine, with intricate etchings that shimmered faintly in the low forge light. The design was so elegant, every plate perfectly balanced for protection and agility. It radiated strength, as if it had been crafted not just for a warrior, but for a hero.

"It's... incredible," I breathed, taking a step closer. The silver plating gleamed under the forge's light, and I could see the faint glow of mana runes etched into the metal, pulsing softly as if alive. "How much does it—"

"Don't ask," Elowen cut in sharply, giving me a pointed look. "Just try it on."

I hesitated, then nodded. The suit of armor was fitted perfectly to my size, but that didn't mean it would be easy to put on. As I struggled to maneuver one of the pauldrons over my shoulder, I heard Hephaestus sigh heavily.

"Hold still, boy," he grumbled, his massive hands surprisingly deft as he adjusted the straps and clasps with practiced ease. "Armor can be quite difficult to put on, you should learn to put on your own armor "

I nodded sheepishly. "Right. Got it."

With Hephaestus's help, I finally managed to don the full suit. The moment the last strap clicked into place, I felt... different. Lighter, somehow. I took a few experimental steps, marveling at how easily the armor moved with me, as if it were part of my own skin.

"Not bad, eh?" Hephaestus grinned, crossing his arms as he stepped back to admire his handiwork. "This isn't just any armor, you know. I forged it using celestial silver and draconian scales, tempered in the flames of Olympus itself. It'll protect you from more than just blades and arrows."

I swallowed hard, running a hand over the smooth, gleaming surface of the chest plate. "It's perfect," I whispered. Then I reached for my black Nemean cloak—the only piece of gear I had kept since the start of my journey—and threw it over the armor. The dark fabric settled over the silver plating like a shadow, and I flipped up the hood, glancing at my reflection in a nearby mirror.

For a moment, I didn't recognize myself. The figure staring back at me looked like a knight from legend, draped in midnight and moonlight, his gaze burning with determination.

I couldn't help it—I laughed, shaking my head in amazement. "This is... unreal. Thank you, both of you."

Elowen's smile was soft, her eyes gleaming with pride. "You deserve it, Adrian."

Hephaestus snorted, turning back to his workbench. "You're not done yet, lad." He reached under the table and pulled out a long, polished sheath, holding it up for me to see. It was made from the same silver as the armor, with a black leather belt strapped around it.

"For your sword," he said gruffly. "No blade worth its salt should go without a proper home."

I took the sheath reverently, running my fingers over the smooth metal. Then I carefully slid Draeca into it, feeling it settle into place with a soft, satisfying click. The sheath felt natural at my side, as if it had been waiting for my sword all along.

"Thank you," I said again, my voice thick. "I—thank you."

Hephaestus just grunted, waving a massive hand dismissively. "Enough of that. Go on, you two have a ship to catch."