| A Theft of Armor |
| Summary: | Alia, in all of her nefarious glory. |
| Date: | 1875-06-28 |
| Related: | Alia's fire lacquer work generally. Into The Fire specifically. |
| NPCs: | None |
| Players: |
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Managing to make it into the workroom that was only a door down from their house without being stopped by citizens, guards, or other inquisitive sorts, Alia set the armor down on the work table with a decided thump.
She sometimes forgot how great the size difference was between herself and Darius, but the trip from the armory to the workroom had certainly reminded her. As did the aching of her arms from carrying the weight of the leather armor all that way. She was still not fully recovered from the work she had done in Four Corners, nor the work she had done in the morning to prepare the remaining skin for the lacquer which now sat resting at her bench. Of course, she could have had the armor brought to her, but that would have necessitated involving more people, and she simply was not ready for that.
She had just managed to nip into the armory while the quartermaster was occupied to steal it. But was it really stealing, she wondered? Was not everything that was his hers and hers his? Perhaps she would use that in her defense. She hoped Darius would be away long enough that she could make some excuse for why his armor had gone on walkabout without his say so.
She had, in the beginning, hoped that she would actually see Darius when she returned to Paras, to be able to share her success with him, but that hope had been small. He had been spending more and more days away from the city, and she often did not know from one day to the other where he was, precisely.
And so, she had decided on surprising him. And that meant absolute secrecy. A tall order when you lived in a place and within a society where the Praetor found out everything eventually.
Alia took a moment to rest, nibbling at a bit of dried meat and cheese, sharing a good portion with Aurora, who had come in from the house to greet her mistress, and sipping some cool water, as she waited for the lacquer to cool to the right temperature. She had already inspected the armor, but she would need to remove the oil which had been worked into the leather. Well, there was no reason to stall. Except that there was. She knew the formula was sound, but she knew…nevermind. She would simply have to trust to her skill and experience.
Alia rose from where she was sitting, moving to the worktable to begin the process of fully cleaning the armor. She took her time, attending to every inch of the leather, stripping it down as much as she could, cleaning a piece at a time. Each she set aside to dry before she moved to the next. Working so closely with the leather, she could see the fine network of scars, the marks of battles fought old and new. Injuries that had been tended to so well and so well hidden that one could not see them from a distance. How very much a reflection of the man who wore it it was. Darius too had his scars but he had long ago learned how to hide them. Sometimes, many times, even from her.
“Last time pays for all,” Alia murmured to herself, as she began the process of carrying each piece of the lorrica over to the workbench. She made for herself an assembly line, much as she would have done when she was working with her auxillia. And then she began. The careful application of the lacquer, the setting aside to allow it to dry, the movement to the next piece and the one after that, until she had applied the coating to each piece, inside and out, with special attention to the places where the armor would be fitted together.
A second coating, even more meticulously applied followed the first before she allowed them time to dry while she stepped out into the enclosed courtyard that offered a private oasis in the city. She had not had much chance to rebuild the place as she might have liked, but it would do for now. She had already added kindling and fuel to the firepit and she lit it now, standing absolutely still as she watched the flames eating away at the dry wood reducing it to the coals that she needed. Only once she was certain she had set the base, did she carry out each piece of the armor. She worked in stages, not wishing to crowd either the leather or the flames.
It took the better part of most of the evening to temper and tend the armor and it was the late watches of the night before she could begin the process of reassembling the lorrica. She smiled without knowing that she did, as she fitted segment to segment, admiring the smokey iridescence that now limned the armor. By the time she was finished and she counted herself satisfied of her work, dawn was just beginning to lighten the sky.
Just for now, she set the armor into the small room where she kept her work supplies. It was still so cluttered, perhaps he would not think to look there. Or perhaps, at least not until she was ready.
Alia glanced to the door, in what had become her usual, almost unconscious gesture before she retired. But the door did not open, and Darius had not yet returned. “Come, Aurora. We should sleep.” They had done good work, and that was well.