Day 65.
The courtyard was turning into a factory floor.
The 40 former bandits and 60 recruited serfs stood in formation. They held their long spears well, but Rian frowned as he looked at them.
They were wearing boiled leather, furs, and scraps of rusty chainmail.
"If an Orc hits them," Rian muttered to Varg, "they die. Leather stops a knife. It doesn't stop a 20-pound axe."
"Plate armor takes weeks to forge, Boss," Varg shrugged. "And it costs a fortune. We can't outfit 100 men in steel suits."
"We don't need suits," Rian pulled out a piece of charcoal. "We need Brigandine."
The Poor Man's Plate
Rian gathered the 5 Tailors he had bought from the city and Grom.
He drew a diagram on the workbench.
"Listen," Rian explained. "Full plate armor requires a master smith to curve the metal to fit the body perfectly. It is slow. It is expensive."
He pointed to the diagram.
"Brigandine is cheating. We take small, rectangular plates of steel—scraps, really. We rivet them to the inside of a heavy canvas or leather vest."
Layer 1 (Outer): Heavy Canvas/Wool (dyed black).
Layer 2 (Inner): Overlapping Steel Plates.
Layer 3 (Lining): Linen.
"Grom," Rian turned to the smith. "You don't need to shape the metal. Just flatten it into small squares and punch holes in them. The Water Hammer can flatten a hundred sheets an hour."
"Tailors," he turned to the slaves. "You rivet these plates into the vests. It's just sewing with metal."
Grom looked at the design. "It's flexible... like fish scales. But solid like a breastplate. And if a plate breaks, you just swap it out."
"Exactly," Rian nodded. "Mass-produce them. I want every soldier in an 'Iron Jacket' by the end of the week."
The Wolf Pen
While the tailors began the noisy work of hammering rivets, Rian went to the back of the fort.
The Kennel.
It had only been 12 days since they brought the pups, but Caelum's Magic combined with unlimited high-quality meat had triggered something primal in their blood.
The "Pups" were no longer balls of fluff. They were now the size of ponies. Their paws were massive, their teeth sharp, and their eyes glowed with intelligence.
Caelum was sitting in the middle of the pen, meditating. The wolves were sleeping around him like giant cats.
"They are growing too fast," Rian noted, looking at a young male wolf named Fang. "Is it safe?"
"It is their nature," Caelum opened his eyes. "In the wild, snow wolves reach maturity in six months. With my life-force acceleration... we did it in two weeks. But they are hungry. Always hungry."
"Feed them," Rian said. "We have the fish. We have the cows."
He turned to Varg. "Saddle up."
The First Ride
Varg approached Fang. He held a custom saddle Grom had made—it sat further forward on the shoulders than a horse saddle, to allow the wolf's spine to flex.
Fang growled low, but Caelum whispered a command, and the wolf stood still.
Varg swung onto the beast's back.
It wasn't like a horse. A horse is stiff. A wolf is fluid. It felt like sitting on a wave of muscle.
"Go!" Rian commanded.
Varg kicked his heels.
Whoosh.
Fang didn't trot. He launched.
In seconds, they were a blur of gray fur and steel, circling the courtyard. The wolf moved with a terrifying silence. No hoofbeats. Just the soft thud-thud of paws.
Varg drew his sword from the saddle. He slashed at a training dummy as he rode past.
Slash.
The dummy's head flew off.
But then, Fang didn't stop. He turned and bit the dummy's torso, ripping the wood apart in a savage shake.
Varg pulled the reins, laughing maniacally.
"It bites! The horse bites too!"
Rian watched with a cold smile.
A cavalry unit where the mount is just as deadly as the rider.
"The Orcs ride boars," Rian noted. "Boars are tough. But Wolves are hunters."
[Ding! Unit Upgrade: Wolf Cavalry (Light)]
Speed: S
Stealth: A
Intimidation: S
Current Count: 8 Riders.
Rian looked at his small but deadly force.
The Infantry: 100 men in Brigandine Armor with Spear Walls.
The Artillery: 500 Grenades ready to be thrown.
The Cavalry: 8 Wolf Riders led by Varg.
The Champion: Kagan the Barbarian with his World-Breaker Axe.
He checked the date. Day 70.
The snow was beginning to thin. The Trade Roads would open soon. And with them, the Orc raiding parties would come.
Rian turned to Lara.
"Send the scouts. Find the Orc Outpost."
"We are not defending this year, Lara," Rian said, adjusting his own Brigandine vest. "We are expanding."
End of Chapter 34