Meyer dropped a splint mail breastplate onto the floor and closed the door of the small chamber. He was in the armament building, the noise of recruits bustling around in preparation for the sparring tournament audible even through the heavy door. Meyer looked around at the collection of armor spread out on the floor. There were two sets of chainmail and three sets of scalemail. In the corner was a pile of leather armor. He momentarily drummed his fingers on his leg before reaching for the nearest scalemail shirt. There was only one way to determine which outfit would best protect his ribs. Meyer had just finished trying on the last chainmail shirt when Ian entered the room carrying a bundle of cloth.
"No splint," said Ian. "But here are the bandages."
Meyer cursed the Healer under his breath as he took the pliant cloth from Ian.
"Sorry," said Ian. "I couldn't press her too hard. She was already curious as to why I wanted so many bandages."
"No matter," said Meyer, grabbing a bracer from the heap of leather armor and positioning it on his left side. He started wrapping the bandages around his torso, but had trouble holding the bracer in place. "Will you give me a hand?"
Ian, who had been staring at Meyer with one eyebrow raised, walked over, and took hold of the leather bracer. He held it in place as Meyer began to wrap himself with the bandage.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" said Ian.
"I told you, my ribs are fine. I just need a bit extra protection."
"You won't even let me see them... "
Meyer shrugged. "A little late for that now." He finished securing the makeshift split, and stood straight. "Anyway, they're fine. Give them a good punch."
Ian made a fist and hit Meyer's left side.
Meyer clenched his muscles and did his best not to wince.
"See, all good," he said, stooping to lift a splint mail guarder from the floor. He fastened the armor around his chest and turned to Ian. "Come on, let's get out of here."
The boys exited the small room and soon emerged in the training yard, which was teaming with recruits fully decked out in fighting gear. Many were swinging dulled swords at invisible enemies, or sparring lightly with one another, but already the biggest crowds had formed in the corners of the yard.
"Have you seen Dobs?" asked Ian.
Meyer nodded, his gaze still lingering over the swaths of recruits. "Saw him this morning—camped out in the Third Rank corner."
"Hmm, maybe I'll go wish him luck," said Ian.
Meyer turned away from the distractions of the yard, the slightest curl of a smile forming on his lips. "Careful, he was already in a mood this morning. You might end up doing more harm than good."
Ian sighed. "Well, I guess I'll just head over to the Second Rank corner. Wouldn't want to be late for the matchup announcements, anyway."
"Good luck," said Meyer, turning towards the First Rank corner of the yard.
"Good luck," called Ian.
Meyer walked across the yard, stopping at the edge of the First Rank recruits surrounding Master Hurst. Two minutes passed before Hurst stepped onto a wooden crate, and motioned for silence. The First Rank recruits quickly stopped talking, and Hurst cleared his throat.
"Alright, and here are the matchups for the first round," he said.
Meyer listened as Hurst called out names, letting them drift by until he heard his own.
YOU ARE READING
The Currents of Magic
FantasiMeyer Brant has lived in the Outlands his entire life. Sometimes Traders bring magical artifacts from the Great Realms and other far off lands, but otherwise he is removed from the kings, sorcerers and magical creatures of the world. Instead, Meyer'...