If you’ve read By Darkness Hid, you know that Sir Gavin tends to rush things. I’m now working on the third book in the trilogy and Achan is getting dressed for battle–a real one, not tournament. I’ll post some interesting information about that soon, but for now, here is an excerpt from book one, when Achan is getting dressed for tournament.
Wils helped him dress. First a thin white linen tunic and scratchy black wool leggings, then a padded, long-waisted wool tunic with long sleeves. After that, Wils had Achan sit on the bed so he could lower a thick coat of steel chain over his head. It draped heavily on his shoulders.
“How am I supposed to swing a sword with this extra bulk and weight?”
Wils shrugged and pulled another tunic—this one of fine yellow linen—over the chain. Fancy ties hung from the neck. Achan tried to lace them.
Wils swatted his hands away. “I’ll do it.” He ignored the ties and, with a small smile, presented a black leather jerkin. “Last one.”
Achan held out his arms so that Wils could slip the vest-like garment onto him. The leather was soft and a bit worn, but of high quality. Gren would approve.
Achan never realized how much clothing noblemen wore. He hoped Master Fenny might see him dressed in such finery. Maybe he might change his mind and give Gren to him after all. Not even Riga had a coat of chain.
Riga. Achan suddenly wasn’t sure he wanted anyone to see him. What if Achan were humiliated? What if he were killed?
One of the loops on the chain coat irritated his neck, and he scratched at it while Wils laced up the tunic and jerkin. It would take Achan an hour to get everything off.
“Ready for your belt and sword, Master Cham?”
Wils had been doing that, calling him Master Cham, like he was someone special. Achan had burst into laughter the first three times, but this time his mouth hung open. He was to have a belt and sword? A real steel sword? “Where?”
Wils went to the window and returned with a brown leather belt studded with steel and pale blue stones. A carved wooden scabbard hung from the belt, holding a sword that had an ivory grip. Achan could only gape as Wils fastened the belt around his waist. His life was worth far less than one jewel on this belt.
When Wils backed away, Achan drew the sword. The sound of metal scraping against wood sent a tingle up his arms. He studied the carved ivory grip wrapped in worn leather, the long steel blade with one raised rib along the flat and a rounded tip—no good for thrusting—and the engraved copper and steel crossguard with some sort of ivory fish set into the center. He could almost imagine himself a Kingsguard knight.
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