Chapter 26

We awoke to the sound of bells.

It was still dark outside. Kaze stood by the window. She could see in the dark a lot better than I could.

“The vanguard has arrived. They’re assembling on the ridge.”

There was a ridge about a kilometer and a half to the west. It made for a decent vantage point of the city.

“See any banners?”

“Not yet. The van won't have any.”

“Screw it. I’m going back to sleep. Wake me up when something happens.”

I was rewarded for my nonchalance with a pillow hurled at my face. There’s nothing that says a knife witch can only control knives.

“Dammit, fine. I’m up.”

Aside: who the hell invades at the ass crack of dawn? The element of surprise is out the window when you’ve already been spotted. It’s just rude.

I am a creature of habit. If I know I’m going into a fight, I like to take time to prepare more than just my kit. It’s a very important day for all involved. Why not look my best?

I scraped off my beard by candlelight. Damn, but I should have gotten Kaze to hone the edge. I never could get it as sharp as I wanted. I washed my face and applied a dab of healing ointment for aftershave to take care of the cuts and razor burn.

I brushed my teeth as well, because I was sure to lose some of them if it came down to a brawl. There’s nothing worse than picking dirty teeth out of your knuckles after punching someone in the mouth. Floss, people. It’s not just for your sake.

Clothing came next. My trousers and shirt were both mottled gray, designed to blend in with an urban environment. Surprise is an ignimancer’s armor. Matching one’s outfit to the environment can mean the difference between a successful ambush and shopping for new teeth.

Boots, sturdy and well broken in, were another necessity. New boots look good. They also leave blisters like you wouldn’t believe. I gave mine a quick once over with a polishing brush to hide the latest batch of scuffs and scratches and laced them on. They came up just below my knees. Ankle support is a must, especially at my age. Having some leather over one’s shins is a happy bonus. Shin kicks hurt like nobody’s business.

Then came the bandoliers, wide leather straps that crossed over my chest. They were a new addition, a replacement for my old cartridge box, since the brass cartridges were a lot less fragile. Upper left side held standard lead ball rounds, twenty in total. Upper right, antimony-hardened light armor piercing, good for mail and light plate. Also twenty rounds.

Lower left was heavy armor piercing, hardened tool steel and fin stabilized, wrapped in a copper sabot that would discard upon leaving the barrel. My old AP rounds could punch through the walls of a castle. I had no idea what these would do. Lower right was the explosives section, hollow mild steel wrapped in a copper jacket with five grams of blasting powder. There was a slight delay to the fuze, ensuring some depth of penetration before the boom.

The bandoliers hooked into my belt in lieu of the normal suspenders I used to hold up my gear. Four pistols, two holstered on either side of my belt buckle, were ready for easy access. They were new too, single shot break-action models that shared cartridges with my firelock. I wasn’t eager to break them out; the recoil was heinous. I had a different flavor of cartridge loaded into each. My bayonet went into a scabbard on my left hip. On my right hip, where my cartridge box used to be, hung a short cutlass to balance things out. I’m no great swordsman, but I can get by in a melee.

Over it all went a waterproof poncho in the same shades of mottled gray as my clothing. It would hide the glint from my gear without hindering my movement as much as a full cloak. If it kept me from having to scrub blood out of my gear after the battle, so much the better.

Kaze watched me prepare with curious eyes, curled up on the bed and still as naked as the day she was born.

“Gonna fight like that?” I asked.

“I should,” she said. “My feral kinfolk need no more than tooth or claw.”

“And they gave rise to the adage ‘there’s more than one way to skin a cat’ in the bargain.”

She hissed and rolled off the side of the bed.

“I was simply observing your process. One can learn much about a warrior by how they prepare.”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve seen me gear up.”

“It’s the first time I’ve seen you prepare for war,” she said. "You take this seriously.”

I shrugged. Wasn’t much I could say to that, so I changed the subject.

“What are you planning for kit?”

“I think I’ll go for an old favorite,” she said.

At the foot of her bed was a large parcel wrapped in parchment. I didn’t peek, so I had no idea what was inside. She slit the twine that tied it closed with a claw and unfolded the contents on the bed.

I frowned.

“I thought you hated the maid uniform,” I said.

“I did, for a time. I still wouldn’t like to wear it every day, or even every battle. But here? Now? I can think of no better way to declare my rebellion against Lady Flir. I dedicated my life to her. Never once did she show a glimmer of gratitude or even recognition for my service. Turning the uniform she forced upon me out of spite against her feels…poetic.”

“Makes sense,” I said. “It helps that it's something you’re used to moving in.”

“That as well. There’s a psychological component, too. Her troops will recognize me, and when they realize that I’m no longer on their side, their sneering disdain will turn to terror.”

“Hah. I reckon that’ll do nicely for anyone suffering from constipation,” I said.

“Indeed. There’s just one teensy tiny problem.”

“Oh?”

“I can’t put it on by myself. This is a two person operation. You will have to help.”

My mind went blank with panic. Of all the possibilities I had to consider, helping Kaze dress wasn’t one of them. The underwear alone was a rigger’s nightmare. There were an awful lot of silk and leather straps in places that I had no business pawing around. Necessary to support the weight of her knife harness, to be sure, but that didn’t make the getup any less visually appealing. Whether that was a good or a bad thing depended entirely on one’s perspective.

“Um.”

“I have respected your desire to keep some distance between us, Sclopetarius Nock, and I assure you, I have no intentions of trying to seduce you on the eve of battle,” she said, her tone as haughty as any noble lady. “I only ask you to help me prepare for the battle ahead. Nothing more.”

“That’s fair,” I said, shaking myself. “Reasonable, even. Sure, I’ll help.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I trust you to be a gentleman.”

“I’ll be the very picture of a perfect gentleman,” I promised.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she warned, and gave me a playful wink. “That doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy it.”