The owner of the sky blue leg, Bernigi, strutted into the Order of Beast Hunters’ headquarters, greeted the people there, and headed straight to the training grounds. “I have heard that Grato has yet to conclude his meeting, and I am hoping I could be allowed to observe in the meantime.”
“Of course, Lord Bernigi. We are honored to receive you.” Griswald offered those pleasantries before looking down to Bernigi’s leg—this must be the magic prosthesis that he had heard about from Ivano. He’d also heard that Bernigi no longer needed a cane, but he hadn’t thought the leg would turn back the clock for its wearer too—so Griswald wanted to jest, but he instead paid an honest compliment. “Is your artificial leg as comfortable as it is beautiful to look at?”
“It is perhaps better than I deserve.” A spate of nostalgia burst from his expression as the elderly man gazed upon the training grounds. The broad shield session had ended, and all Beast Hunters were beginning their regular conditioning; the distinctive din of training swords and vigorous shouting echoed in the air. Envious and itching to join, he tightened his right fist, something that Griswald did not fail to notice.
“Perhaps just observing won’t suffice, Lord Bernigi.”
It could have been seen as a slight toward an elderly man with a false leg, but the knight certainly did not take it that way. “I am still far from being able to compete with the Sorcerer of Water.” Bernigi pointed his tea-brown eyes at the man with that nickname.
Something about the intense gaze made Griswald reflexively tense up, but he wasn’t about to show it on his face. Though he prided himself on his ability to slay monsters with water magic and a lance, “Sorcerer of Water” was all but an exaggeration. He could not imagine giving that old knight a beatdown; Griswald would need much more training before that could happen.
“I have been conditioning this old body of mine; would you allow me to participate with the young folk?”
“We would love to receive your instruction, Sir Bernigi.”
With a firm nod of the head, the veteran accepted the training sword that Griswald extended toward him, and as he strode forward, his sky blue magic prosthesis gleamed with every step.
The meeting regarding equipment ended, and Grato brought Ivano along to the training grounds. At one end, Dahlia, accompanied by Volf and Randolph, was applying more impact absorption material to the broad shield, likely fine-tuning it. Meanwhile, the jumble of Beast Hunters and their swords, spears, greatswords, and shields were rattling against each other and training in both attack and defense in the center. Most armor visible out there was gray, and a few wore red, but there was also a spot of blue that shouldn’t have been there—it was an overcast day.
The vice-captain approached Grato and the others, sounding a little uneasy as he updated his superior on the situation. “Captain, Lord Bernigi has come and is participating in our training...”
Bernigi’s blue prosthesis stuck out like a sore thumb; there was no blending into the crowd of knights for him. Though he might not have been as muscular, quick, or as sharp as he was in his prime, his skills had not withered away, and if anything, his feints were even better than before. It might have been due in part to his prosthetic leg, though rough-and-tumble had always been Bernigi’s style. His trickiness was a good learning experience for the young knights.
Although he was embroiled in sparring, Bernigi noticed Grato’s arrival, and he slipped out of the action and headed toward the group of spectators. “They are all tremendously strong, Grato! Their fundamentals are rock solid too. I am pleasantly surprised to see what you have achieved here!” The old man was beaming, and his complexion was far better than it had been when they’d met the other day. He even looked a size larger, if such a thing were possible. And more than anything, the light had returned to his tea-brown almond eyes.
“A new artificial leg, Lord Bernigi?”
“Aye, this exceptional magic prosthesis was a very kind favor from Master Dahlia. Rather fetching, is it not?” Indeed, the prosthesis itself had a very pleasant form. He no longer required a cane, his strides were large, and his steps were firm. But it wasn’t just the looks—that she had used magic to make up for his abated muscles was awe inspiring. “With this, I plan to recondition my body for spring.”
“Spring? Is there something happening then?”
“I am hoping to all-out spar against you, Captain.”
Grato’s lips and eyes curved at the emphasis Bernigi placed on his title. He wasn’t just speaking to an optimistic old man but a ferocious knight—there was still Beast Hunter inside him. He heard that Rossetti had invented the impact absorption material and, along with that, a magic prosthetic leg that was easy to move around in; it seemed as though the sky-blue magical tool had restored his senior’s fighting spirit. When Grato had joined the squad, it had been Bernigi who’d first taught him how to fight with a sword. The prospect of sparring against him was nothing short of thrilling. Sure, no one escaped the ravages of time, and the years had accumulated for Grato as well, but his abilities more than made up for it. He might not have been in his prime anymore, but he was still in active service and, more importantly, he was the current captain of the Order of Beast Hunters—he could absolutely not lose to a retiree.
“As you wish, ex-Vice-Captain.” Before he knew it, a ferocious grin crept across his face too.
“Ah, Master Dahlia is in the process of crafting another magic prosthesis for me, and the three of you ought to come observe next time. I should like us to train together in the spring.”
The other two names that Bernigi mentioned afterward were his juniors, though they were Grato’s seniors. Grato recalled the tough instruction and rough lambasting he’d received in his youth, and he could but awkwardly smile as he failed to find a suitable answer. The veteran tended to say too much and he’d had a distinguished service—in other words, it was tricky.
Certainly seeing through him, Bernigi guffawed. “We are discussing whether other prostheses and supportive tools like this magical artificial leg are possible. Not just from the squad—there are knights from all the orders who have lost their mobility and are retired with time and money on their hands. I am hoping to get everyone involved.”
That more people could move freely again and support others were both joyous things; next year, the castle would surely have a happier crowd. This would likely make things even trickier, though.
“Anyway, I ought to return to my lessons.” Bernigi, who seemed not to have had enough exercise yet, returned to spar with the knights.
As the elderly man swung his training sword again, Grato and Ivano watched from behind with tired expressions. “Ivano, you told me about the magic prosthesis, but you failed to mention this...”
“I hope you can forgive me—I did not know of this either...” Ivano had never seen it in person and had only learned of it from Dahlia’s report; this was hardly his fault.
“I am not criticizing you; just a bit surprised is all. Still, the impact absorption material, the cloth, and the magic prosthesis on top of them—quite a few things in the works, eh?” Though it was Grato himself who had asked Dahlia to be the Order of Beast Hunters’ advisor, he had to say it had been a brilliant decision.
The vice-chairman cleared his throat, interrupting the captain as he basked in his own ingeniousness. “Sir Grato, I, erm, have yet something else to report to you: the Scalfarotto Arms Works is trialing the impact absorption material for saddles and carriage seat cushions, and Mr. Forto of the Tailors’ Guild will be unveiling an improved version of the zephyricloth before long...”
Grato could but laugh at the way Ivano’s navy eyes were pointed at the ground as he said that. But it was good news that they were developing so many magical tools for the Order, and he was genuinely grateful—to make expeditions easier was to give them an advantage in battling monsters. That their resident magical toolmaker was advancing too quickly, that too many people had become involved, or that he had no clue which direction things were going—these were misgivings Grato could never express aloud.
Incidentally, Dahlia had a serious look on her face and impact absorption material in her hands. The knight nicknamed Lord Reaper was smiling as he spread open a glove. The bow knight was contemplating where to stick the padding. Behind the bow knight was the wielder of the war hammer holding his beloved weapon and a pair of gloves, giddy as a child. Beside them, the vice-captain watched with a smile, his favorite spear in one hand and a pair of gloves in the other; it seemed like he was waiting his turn. Others glanced at that group, and likely, some of them would begin lining up as well.
“I have a favor to ask of you, Ivano, not on behalf of the Order but for my own sake: I hope the Rossetti Trading Company will begin to deal in medicine—”
“Sir Grato, I have just what you need.” The master merchant had come prepared. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out exactly what had been requested. “This medicine for the stomach is made of bear liver, and many have avowed its efficacy. I cannot dispense with it.”
Ivano’s smile was perfectly manufactured, but his navy eyes looked just a little fatigued; Grato assumed he was no different. He could foresee things getting rather hectic. “I’ll likely need a large supply this coming spring. You have my thanks in advance.”