[04:55] Dun would lead the youths into the depths of his forge, clicking his teeth together through the great halls of the manor as they at last entered his center of artifice, the audible noise of the crucible already beginning to heat up with the coaxing of mana in the air.

As he at last reached its side, the various chunks of adamantite ore were slowly, steadily deposited in the depths of the crucible, offered as tribute to the glowing, molten sludge coaxed forth by ethereal flame lapping from his fingers, the purple metal bubbling hot and shining with condensed mana as he worked forth.

"Heavy plate means every pit of you will be covered. Gauntlets, greaves, sabatons, pauldrons, helmet. It's gonna be hot, and it's gonna be heavy. But no one will be the wiser who you are, and the weight of the metal will build strength over time."

And just like that, the molten adamantite was poured upon the anvil, time warping around its confines at it appears to hang, half flowing, in mid-air above the anvil, idly flowing upon the flat iron as Dun retrieved a nearby, common cudgel from his workbench, taking a deep breathe as a hardened shell of blackened, reinforced mana manifested with a pop around it.

And just like that, in a whir of activity and invigored, heated motion, the elder priest of the Fireblooded order, the keeper of the Pyrelight Citadel, would make clear why he was considered a master smith with clarity.

Each, resounding strike of shaping force released a concussive wave of heated, super charged mana, and it seemed with each blow that the man was almost accelerating with speed.

And in fact, he was. The time stream idly altered as the master energy magi worked upon each individual, heavy laden, refolded and reinforced piece of armor that would encase Arno.

It would be his covenant. His vigil. Until he completed his Task, he would not be free.

After a time, the plate would be stretched into a wide, encasing cuirass. Rivets and hinges were worked into the pieces so that locked into each other when assembled, ensuring that once Arno fully put on each bit of the armor and secured it, he'd be a different man.

The plate was fit for a man a foot taller than the young, blind acolyte, but then being able to see in the helmet didn't matter for him.

He'd be fiiiiiiine.

With the task complete, the full suit would be left to cool upon the mantle, awaiting Arno's steady assembly about his person that would likely be difficult, were it not that Jin was nearby to aid him.

(Dun Task)
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[05:03] With every strike of the hammer, Arno's resolve only grew. Before him, despite being unable to witness it, were the creation of a new man. This were no mere set of armor, but a complete and utterly new identity for the Sluthian. All they could do is remain silent in wait, as their legacy unfolds before them.

This armor would become the Sluthian's new skin; who's name he rejects until his creed fulfilled. This were the creation of a man, from a boy who has lost everything that made him who he were. The despair of those that he held closest driving him to become but something more than a boy.

No words were able to form upon Arno's lips, as if they were sewn shut with the same wire in which his eyelids were, allowing this to happen; Embracing it.

The dawn of new days were unfolding before him. He wouldn't allow this to go to waste.
(Arno)
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[05:05] Jin watches as the old master forged the armor from the crucible. The sheng teen observing steadily at the striking of molten metal against the anvil.

As the armor took form, the Sheng could only imagine the amount of weight one would have to bear in order survive on a day to day basis. Brown hues shift to his friend before lidding slightly. He already knew what the other boy was willing to do for his goals. This armor would be his covenant and eventual testament to their deeds.

A supportive nod is given. At the very least it was a comforting reminder that they would not be fighting alone.

And so as each piece was set against the flesh of his Ally, the Sheng's resolve would also harden for the future that awaited.
(Xie Jin)
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[05:05] Dun would take a light drag from his cigarette as he checked his watch, clicking his teeth together thoughtfully for a time as he glanced over the staff.
(Dun Task)
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[05:16] Dun would slowly, steadily begin the process of armoring the lad with only one, gauntlet laden hand. It was not a particularly....simple effort, truth be told. Yet, the clockwork craftsman was nothing if not patient, time magic had offered him such where energy sorcery had kept him only frenetically occupied.

And so, piece by piece, the armor was put upon the youth in full. First the breastplate, then the backplate fastened on with hinges. Slowly but steadily, the gauntlets were tugged up the boy's arm length, fastening with extended hinges to the pauldrons that were soon secured there after.

Then came the greaves, front and back, bound at the codpiece by purple, flowing gears and plates. Soon, even that was bound to the cuirass, leaving only Arno's head and feet unadorned.

Somehow so quick even the youth wouldn't notice it, Arno was lifted and the sabatons secured upon his feet in the blink of an eye, almost as if someone was meddling with time sorcery to makes things more convenient for his old age.

At last, only the helmet awaited, the rest of the hinges fastened and waiting as he raised the great, purple visage above Arno's head, the last time his skin would feel fresh air for quite some time.

"With this, the covenant is sealed. The final hinge will be bound, and your duty set forth nameless bearer of the oath. May this offer your flame the kindling it requires to incite your growth, in the name of glorious draconic ascension..."

And like that, the helmet was plopped down, the hinges secured to the cuirass, and the suit of armor sealed with super heated mana as the process was at last complete.
(Dun Task)
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[05:26] Arno stands vigilant, body facing no recoil as such armor is placed upon him. It's weight does more than any sort of self reprimand could of, any sort of pain that he may have faced; yet oddly enough, the Sluthian welcomed the weight, almost as if it were that of a blanket, covering that which ailed him most.

...Which, in every truth, were not far from the truth. Arno loathed himself for his failures, and inability to prevent the disgrace his family suffered. No more would he allow such things to continue on, welcoming the closing of such armor about his form with not a single word of complaint. Steel digs uncomfortably into his flesh, and yet, he cannot hold back the beginnings of a smile.

No, not a word as the clockwork mechanisms fasten the armor around him, a personal aegis that represented the retribution to come. For this pain, for this suffering, there would be vengeance. There would be justice.

"Do it." Were the final words of the boy known as Arno, as the elder had spoke. With that affirmation, a helmet is placed atop him, turning what were once Arno, into something else entirely. A knight of much taller standing, of much broader, and intimidating presence.

What stood before them; were Gwyn. A self made soldier in the pursuit of justice, where it had made itself absent in Theria. He would right the wrongdoings against those of his family. Such were his promise to no other than himself.

Silence, before Gwyn would leer up, uttering final words.

"Thank you, Task. Jin."

"Let us return to the Citadel, now that it is complete."
(Arno)