Chapter 207: Back to Reality

Felix rolled the heavy parchment into a tight cylinder and shoved it into his leather satchel. The subterranean evacuation plan was finally finished.

Arthur watched him pack. "Finally done?"

"Unless Vale decides to invent another collapsed tunnel before class," Felix muttered.

"You should burn the maps."

"I’m keeping them."

They walked out of the dorms and joined the morning stream of academy students. Near the central courtyard, they found Emily and Chloe. Emily turned abruptly to catch Chloe’s attention and winced, pressing a hand to her ribs.

Arthur stepped up beside her. "Still tender?"

"Only when I forget about them," Emily said. She leaned in and kissed him, then bumped her shoulder against his.

Chloe adjusted the heavy stack of books in her arms. "I was up late finishing that potions essay, and now I’ve got three practicals. I already miss yesterday."

Arthur kissed her cheek. "We’ll go back."

"We’d better," Chloe said, turning down the corridor toward the alchemy wing. Emily waved backward over her shoulder before heading off in the opposite direction toward the combat training grounds.

Felix dropped his rolled-up assignment onto the submission desk at the front of the lecture hall. Arthur watched him check that his name was written on the outside before finally walking away.

Professor Vale stood before a projected diagram of a collapsed dungeon corridor.

"Your evacuation plan looks excellent on paper," Vale told the class. "Now one of the people you’re escorting breaks his leg. What changes?"

"How badly?" Felix asked.

"Badly enough that he can’t walk."

Felix studied the corridor. "We’d need someone to carry him. Maybe two, depending on the terrain."

"And your formation?"

"The vanguard stays close. If he runs ahead, whoever’s carrying the injured man is left exposed."

Vale nodded. "Anything else?"

"We had a merchant with a broken leg on Saturday," Felix said. "He was already in a wagon, and we still had to stop and splint it properly. Every bump in the road was hurting him."

Arthur leaned forward. "And that road was fucking terrible. The wagon bounced around every time Garrick tried to pick up speed."

Felix nodded. "That’s why we had to stop."

Vale tapped the diagram. "And if there’s no wagon?"

Felix looked back at the corridor. "Then we’d better have a way to carry him before we enter."

Vale looked around the lecture hall. "How many of you actually included a stretcher or a specialized transport rig in your equipment lists?"

A few hands went up.

Felix glanced toward Arthur.

"Don’t look at me," Arthur muttered. "I didn’t write your plan."

Later that afternoon, Arthur stood on the firing line at the outdoor practice range. He drew Whisperwind back, feeling the tension build in the recurve limbs.

As his hand neared his anchor point, the dull ache in his left wrist flared into a sharp, grinding heat.

Arthur eased the string forward and lowered the bow. He activated Eagle Eye, letting the distant targets snap into sharp focus, tracking the slight drift of the practice arrows and the shifting shadows across the canvas.

Elara lowered her own bow two lanes down.

"You’ve been watching that target for five minutes," she called over.

"Tracking practice."

She glanced at the fitted leather bracer on his left wrist. "Wrist still bad?"

"Can’t get a full draw."

Elara nodded toward the moving targets at the far end of the range. "Third one keeps drifting left before the turn."

Arthur watched the wooden dummy complete another circuit. She was right. The mechanical track was slightly misaligned.

"Show-off," Arthur said.

Elara smiled faintly and turned back to her lane to draw another arrow.

When classes finally ended, Arthur met Felix outside the dorms. Felix was carrying his battered tower shield by its heavy leather grip.

They took city transport down to the lower districts, walking the last few blocks to Iron Anvil.

The air inside the shop was suffocatingly thick with the smell of hot iron and coal dust. Brokk was shouting instructions at two sweating apprentices hauling crates of raw ore, while the rhythmic ringing of hammers echoed off the stone walls.

Brunhilda stood near the quenching troughs, hammering a heavy curve into a steel breastplate. She finished the heat, set her hammer down, and wiped a streak of soot off her forehead with a heavy glove.

She saw Arthur first, then her eyes dropped to the heavy shield Felix was carrying.

"You brought me another broken one?" Brunhilda asked, walking over to the counter.

"He’s still alive," Arthur said.

"I meant the shield." She pulled off her gloves and hauled the heavy iron slab onto the wooden counter.

She ran her calloused fingers over the deep scratch along the rim and the heavy dents in the center. "Crossbow bolts?"

"Heavy ones," Felix said. "How long?"

Brunhilda looked at the racks of pending orders behind her. "I’ve got three guild commissions ahead of yours, and Obsidian Hand keeps sending us more repairs. Two days. Maybe three."

Felix scowled. "I have combat drills tomorrow."

"Borrow an academy practice shield," Arthur suggested.

"They’re unbalanced garbage."

"Use the plywood to hit them in the face," Arthur said. "It builds character."

Brunhilda looked at Arthur. "When are you going to visit without bringing me somebody else’s broken equipment?"

"I was going to come alone," Arthur said. "He insisted on following me."

Felix turned toward him. "You offered to come."

"See? Clingy."

Brunhilda laughed and reached across the counter for Arthur’s left hand.

Arthur winced as her grip tightened slightly over his sore wrist.

Brunhilda frowned. She pushed his sleeve up, checking the leather bracer she had fitted for him weeks ago. She tested the straps, looking for uneven wear. "My leather isn’t rubbing."

"It’s the joint," Arthur admitted.

"How long has it been hurting?"

"Since before Saturday."

Brunhilda looked up at him. "And you went hunting bandits?"

"I killed the bandit."

"Congratulations. Your wrist is still fucked."

Felix paid the deposit while Brunhilda attached a heavy brass repair tag to the shield’s handle.

"Brunhilda!" Brokk shouted from the far side of the forge, standing over a massive cooling trough.

"Coming!" Brunhilda shouted back.

She gave Arthur one last look before hauling the heavy shield off the counter and carrying it toward the repair racks in the back.

Arthur followed Felix outside.

Felix kept hitching his left shoulder upward, his arm moving instinctively to adjust a heavy leather strap that wasn’t there. He did it three times before they reached the corner.

"You’re doing it again," Arthur said.

Felix forced his arm down to his side. "I’m used to having forty pounds hanging off that shoulder."

"Enjoy the break."

"I have combat drills tomorrow."

Arthur glanced at the empty space where Felix’s shield normally hung. "Then you’d better find something that doesn’t fall apart when Emily punches it."

"That narrows down the academy’s entire practice stock."

Their transport pulled up to the curb, and Felix followed him aboard.