Living Armor Short

Jaggun looked at the castle on farther up the hill. A fortress of faded stone and crumbling eves loomed over him, derelict and dormant. A remnant of bygone days when monsters didn’t prowl these lands. It must have been a splendid vista in it’s prime; an elegant yet imperious palace overlooking the bustling town below.

But the monsters had come, and the humans that had once inhabited these once opulent abodes had been chased out or devoured by the land’s new denizens. Just like the cobbled road had sunken into the muck, so too had the name and memory of the town faded from the minds of those in more habitable lands. Only by chancing upon an ancient census in the basement of an old church a few days away from the town did Jaggun even learn of its existence.

Wise men would no doubt say that slinking around monster infested wilderness in the hopes of plundering treasure from sacked human settlements would be a bad idea. And they would be right, but they also wouldn’t be coming back with fat stacks of cash either. From a young age, Jaggun had wanted to be an adventurer. A valiant soul reaving riches from the demonic hordes with his quick wits and quicker sword swings. Practicing his survival skills with his friends in the woods, Jaggun prepared for a life of adventure.

This, Jaggun realized, was a terrible decision. After only a few camping trips into the fringes of monster territory with his friends, the troop of boys from his hometown decided that they were ready to raid their first ruin. In hindsight, they were lucky to get as far as they did. Once they were inside the suspiciously well-preserved castle, a horde of undead had set upon them and devoured his party, including his best friend Covel. There wasn’t enough wine in the world to make proper libations for the lives lost that day. And none of the families of the deceased were about to let Jaggun forget it.

In a way, the loss of Covel and his friends transformed Jaggun. He was not a naïve child anymore. He was a hardened cynic, who knew the harsh realities of tangling with demons better than most Order soldiers. Journeys into monster territory transformed from vocation to obsession to compulsion. Why he did it, who could say? Perhaps he felt obligated to provide something for the families who suffered without a man to work the farm. Perhaps he held out hope that one of his comrades might still be alive against all odds. Revenge? Retribution by pilfering from the monsters that had stolen so much from him? Or maybe, it was just a suicidal apathy. A complete indifference to life that smoldered in his soul, fueled by the guilt of surviving that accursed night.

In truth, it was a combination of all these factors that spurred Jaggun on in his outrageous endeavors. The glint of gold or gleam of jewels hardly roused anything more than mild contentment. He never hung around civilization long enough or kept enough of his haul to enjoy the wealth. His life was here, in the wilds. The townsfolk treated him as an oddity at best, and a pariah in most other instances. No matter how many months he was gone, no one was ever surprised or joyed to see him return with a bounty of gold weighing more than himself. He was a specialist. His singular purpose in life was to last as long as he could in the demon-infested hellscapes and take all that he could back into the human world.

Morning dew dripped off a leaf and splashed onto Jaggun’s head. The cloak of leaves and branches he had knitted together with vines easily protected him from the icy droplet as it rolled off into the leaf litter. No sign of monsters so far. Still downwind of the castle. Indicators of werewolves? Zero. Roosting harpies? None. Signs of undead? Not yet…

Jaggun squirmed. This would be the first time since the accident that he would attempt to raid a castle. His nerves were gnawing at him more than usual. He hadn’t NOT been nervous since seeing his friends eaten in front of him, but standing at the foot of the manor made his skin crawl. Maybe if he could get in and out of this bastion, even without anything to show for it, it would mollify his restless soul. Anything to go to sleep at night without hearing those screams echoing through his head.

Jaggun slowly sat up, careful to stretch his limbs one at a time so to avoid them all popping at once. He advanced towards the castle at a snail’s pace. Inching forward on his belly, he slunk towards his target while maintaining his careful watch for any bird, beast, or boogeyman. At the edge of the clearing, he quickly shed his cloak of foliage and sprinted up the grassy hill into the gate of the castle. Inside, he threw himself against the interior of the wall as he inspected the courtyard.

No signs of monsters or monster habitation. Promising. But Jaggun knew better than most that monsters rarely found their prey by strictly visual cues. It seemed they all had some sort of enhanced sense of smell or sixth sense. Once they were on the trail, it was a weeklong affair to shake them. Slinking towards the nearest door, Jaggun eased the door open and peered inside.

Dark and decrepit. Dust lazily swirled from its ancient perch as air flowed in. Jaggun sighed in relief. No monsters here. At least not anything physical. Spectral, perhaps, but he had never found any better defense against ghosts than fleet footwork. And carpet! The moldy mess practically disintegrated under his feet, but Jaggun could make out faint splotches of color on the more intact sections. It was expensive. All very promising.

Stretching his aching back, Jaggun ambled down the hall. Being inside dungeons had become one of the only places he found respite. Monsters always dragged humans back to their lairs; they never seemed to expect humans IN their lair. As long as he didn’t try and cook a four-course meal in the kitchen or stoke a blaze in the grand fireplace, he had free reign of the place.

Sunlight seeped in through the cracks in the ceiling or the empty windows as Jaggun moved into the first room. Seeing the chairs and marred mirror hanging on one of the walls, he did an about-face and moved on. Just a sitting room. When you could only carry out a single pouch of loot, there was no space in the sack for anything less than the most expensive baubles the castle had to offer. Golden candlesticks may look nice and net a hefty sum, but they were too cumbersome to bring all the way back home. Jewelry and painting canvases were his main source of revenue.

Rodents squealed in alarm as he stepped peered into what had once been a kitchen. Nothing of value here either. Foregoing the first floor all together, Jaggun looked for a staircase to take him to the second level. Rounding a bend, he stifled a yelp and quickly retreated around the corner. Someone was there.

Jaggun listened for the sound of advancing footsteps as his heart hammered in his chest. After a few tense minutes of silence, he peered around the corner again.

Two suits of armor stood attention, staring across the hall at each other. Despite the castle’s forlorn state, the two sets were impeccably preserved. Though the plate mail was matte with dust and weathering, the sets were unmarred by any serious rusting. Jaggun hesitantly sidled over to one of the silent sentinels. Whomever had commissioned the set had good taste. The armor was sturdy and light, without any ornate engravings or gold trims. This was functional armor; meant to be worn into battle.

Jaggun rapped the back of his hand against the breastplate and listened to the echo rattle through the hollow soldier. A shame he couldn’t take this back home. Wearing anything so noisy was a death sentence in monster territory. Sighing, Jaggun patted the armor and moved on. A draft blew through the armor, sounding like a small moan as it passed through the joints and helmet. How strange.

Pressing on, Jaggun quickly found the stairs. The farther he pushed into the castle, the more apparent it became that the lord of this castle had been some sort of combat enthusiast. Weapons, armor sets, and hunting trophies covered the walls and flanked doorways of nearly every room. Judging by all the faded portraits of a gallant man standing over all manner of beast and foe, the lord had had an ego bigger than the castle itself. Maybe the fortress would still be standing if he had spent more on defense and less on feats of vanity.

Something scraped against stone behind Jaggun. The hair on his neck raised. Whipping around, he waited for any further signs of demonic predators. After a moment of silence, Jaggun tried to calm himself by reasoning that it was just the castle settling. But again, the sonorous rasp of metal on stone echoed down the hall. Closer than before.

Jaggun scrambled up the stairs to the second floor. He needed to find an exit, fast. Any barricade he could construct was useless; monsters were strong enough to destroy anything obstacle he put up faster than he could erect it. Panicking, Jaggun looked through a window at the ground below. Too high to jump.

A sharp squeak rang out through the silent castle. Jaggun looked back at the top of the stairs. It was following him. What was it? That noise didn’t sound like any monster he had ever heard before. Was it just a wild animal? Jaggun drew his knife and inched back towards the staircase and glanced around the corner. Nothing. The U-shaped stairs were vacant, save for the suit of armor on the landing. Jaggun crept down a few steps and looked over the banister to the floor below. Nothing there either. He sheathed his knife. It was always like this. Dozens of ruins explored and he was still just as nervous as he had been on his first solo expedition. Jaggun slumped onto the stairs and rubbed his face. When would it end? Why couldn’t he get a grip?

Jaggun found the nearest bedroom and locked himself inside. Waiving his usual caution, he pushed a dresser in front of the door. It wouldn’t stop a monster, but it might give him a few precious seconds to think. Rummaging through his pack, he scarfed down a few morsels of food as he began looting the drawers. Pearl earrings and a gold ring. Jaggun shook out the crumbs from his bag and dumped them in. A promising start. Sometimes the previous inhabitants were smart enough to vacate the premises with their valuables in tow before the monsters arrived. Jaggun was pleased to see that the lord of the castle hadn’t been so wise.

Once every drawer in the room was empty, Jaggun slid the dresser out of the way and opened the door. He screamed. A suit of armor stood across the hall. Jaggun clutched his heart and slumped against the doorframe. These damn suits would be the death of him. But, had this one been here before…?

Jaggun looked up and down the hall. A few other armor sets stood in various places, all equally stoic in their endless watch. There certainly were a lot of them. The lord must have commissioned them in bulk. Jaggun flipped up the visor on the helmet. It clattered up, revealing the padding on the interior of the helmet, and then snapped shut once more. Of course it was empty, what did he expect to find? Jaggun wiped the grease from his meal across the breastplate of the armor and moved on.

~~~~~~~

For a few hours, Jaggun skittered between rooms pilfering anything worth looting. His pace quickened as he went. Something was wrong. Very wrong. The more time he spent in this castle, the more he felt like he was being watched. An inexplicable sensation of eyes boring into him wherever he went. And the noise. Chief God, what was that noise?! Always a clank or a scrape, always the same distance away, and always made by some phantom stalker. Every time Jaggun checked the hall, there was no one there. No monster, no beast, no demon, no spirit. Just a dusty hall filled with armor and weapons of a bygone era.

“I’m going insane…” muttered Jaggun. He slung his loot sack over his shoulder. A disappointing haul, all things considered. He stared down the hall. With the final room in this wing clear, he now had to backtrack to the center of the castle. But that meant confronting whatever had been following him. The clanking had followed him down this hall to the very end of the wing. If it continued with him back the other way, it was time to leave.

Jaggun drew his knife and advanced. His shadow stretched down the corridor in the fading evening light. His jaw was clenched painfully. A bead of sweat formed on his brow. Why hadn’t he left?! Why had he ignored all these sounds?! It seemed so easy to dismiss them when he still had room to run, but now he had backed himself into a corner.

Clank.

Jaggun gasped and waved his dagger in the face of a suit of armor as he stumbled back against a wall. These accursed armor suits! Everywhere, always watching him. Jaggun cursed the thing and sheathed his dagger. A fly buzzed by his face. Jaggun swatted at the thing in annoyance. The fly deftly dodged his half-hearted swipe and came to rest on the armor’s breastplate. Jaggun swatted at the thing in spite, taking out his pent-up frustrations on the insect. The fly took off and landed again, taking stuttering strides across the metal.

Jaggun frowned. The fly was quite intent on landing there. What was that on the armor? Jaggun squinted. In the fading light, he could barely make out a small fleck of meat at the end of a fresh, greasy handprint.

Jaggun’s blood froze in his veins. He looked up at the emotionless visored face of the armor. There was a soft, almost inaudible hiss of metal on metal as the helmet tilted down towards him.

Jaggun shoved the armor back with all his might and dropped his sack. The suit made a horrendous crash as it toppled to the floor. Jaggun sprinted down the hall without any regard for stealth. Skidding to a halt at the top of the staircase, Jaggun chanced a glimpse back at the haunted armor.

It lay on the ground, silent and unmoving. Had he imagined it? No, of course he hadn’t. That was HIS handprint on it! He watched and waited. The helmet slowly twisted, only a few inches to stare back at him.

“Umm…”

Jaggun fled. Leaping down the stairs to the landing, he ignored the flash of pain in his knees and vaulted down the other half. The clank of armored feet striding after him echoed from above. Jaggun’s lungs burned as he rounded the last bend to the exit. His world lurched painfully as he collided with something.

“Ow! What the…? Oh!”

Jaggun scrambled back on all fours as the werewolf he had collided with smiled at him.

“There you are! I was wondering if I would ever find you! Momma said that tracking humans was easy, but I almost lost you more than once. Our daughters will be strong.”

Jaggun sprinted away. As he passed the stairs, he saw the suit of armor teeter down the stairs onto the landing. It froze when it saw him, one hand on the railing. Did it only move when he wasn’t looking? Running past the stairs, Jaggun looked for another place to hide. The werewolf howled.

“Come back! I promise I’ll be good to you~” jeered the beast-woman.

Jaggun whimpered. He heard her running after him, her claws scraping against the stone. Taking a sharp left, Jaggun hurried down another flight of stairs to avoid a dead end. Maybe there was an entrance to the sewers he could crawl out of.

Jaggun instantly regretted his choice as the darkness of the basement enveloped him. He tripped and stumbled as the stairs gave way to the floor, falling hard on his face. His wrist was sprained for sure. Jaggun shuffled forward in the dark. His hand ran across a curved face of dank wood. Wine casks. Grabbing his dagger, he punctured a few casks. The rancid stench of vinegar permeated the air. Jaggun felt his way into a corner and hunkered down behind a cask.

“Oh Mr. Hunter~ Where are you?~ I know you’re down- Eugh! What the hell is that stench?!” said the wolf-girl. Jaggun heard her stifle a wretch as she entered the wine cellar. Her pawed feet gently splashed through the widening puddle on the ground. Jaggun shut his eyes and focused on regulating his breathing. The sound of the vinegar trickling onto the stone would muffle the sound of his panting for a moment, but once the casks were empty, she would be able to hear him if he was gasping for breath.

“I know you’re down here! Come out. I promise I won’t hurt you.” Demanded the werewolf.

Jaggun flinched as she cursed. A barrel smashed and she roared in frustration.

“This is disgusting! Come out before I get pissed!”

Jaggun’s eyes were becoming adjusted to the darkness. Peeking over the top of the barrel, he could faintly make out her silhouette in the dim light.

Her ears flicked towards him. She whirled around, yellow eyes glinting in the dark.

“Ah ha! There you are! That’s how a human SHOULD look. Cowering in fear. I think I’ll take my time with you. Teach you a lesson you won’t forget about defying… What the…? Who are you?!”

Jaggun heard the interloper before he saw them. A constant rattling to replace the fading trickle of vinegar from the cask. Light from a torch flickered against the dank stone walls, casting light throughout the cellar. An armored figure stood at the foot of the stairs, torch in one hand and sword in the other. Jaggun and the werewolf gawked at the newcomer, unsure of what to make of the knight.
The helmeted head swung back and forth between Jaggun’s pursuer and Jaggun. Any hope of hiding had vanished in the crackling fire of the torch, as he was now in plain sight. Judging by the quivering of the stranger’s hand, they were even more terrified of the werewolf than Jaggun. Was this the person who had stalked him through the castle? The trio stood in silence as the torch slowly burned.
“…Who the hell are you? Get out of here! This human is mine!” shouted the werewolf.

The knight blenched at her accusation. Cowering behind her outstretched sword, the knight shook his head.

“No.”

The werewolf’s brow furrowed in confusion. Even Jaggun raised an eyebrow. It was the softest, most diminutive ‘no’ he had ever heard. And was she a woman?! It sure sounded like it. The voice sounded too feminine to be a man…

“Huh?! What do you mean ‘no?’ I said get the hell out of here!” snarled the wolf.

The knight flinched. She held her sword higher, though it was clear that she was terrified of the beast.

“Umm… I said no. Leave at once, or I’ll…”

The knight’s threat sputtered and died as the werewolf advanced on her. She raised her sword and wildly swung it at the werewolf, who was completely unfazed by the knight’s pathetic attempt at defense.

“Or you’ll what?” sneered the werewolf.

“I’ll hit you.” said the knight softly. The way the woman spoke was strange. A firm yet monotone, disimpassioned voice that didn’t match her trembling frame.

She took a feeble swing at the werewolf as the beast woman advanced. The werewolf easily avoided the swing and wrenched the sword out of the knight’s hands. The armored woman fell back onto the stairs with a yelp. The werewolf loomed over her.

“I said beat it. He’s MINE.” Hissed the werewolf.

The knight began to cry. Jaggun was paralyzed with fear and confusion. What the hell was happening? Did this woman enter the armor when he wasn’t looking? He had checked inside the suit twice, and it had been empty both times. The werewolf turned her back on the sniveling heroine and eyed Jaggun hungrily.

“Now, where were we?~”

The werewolf stripped off her tattered top. Jaggun pressed himself farther into the corner, trapped like an animal in a cage. The werewolf’s muscular arms rippled as she tossed aside a cask with ease.

“Don’t hurt him.” pleaded the knight.

“If you’re going to stay here, you’d better be quiet. I don’t mind an audience, as long as they don’t interfere.” Said the werewolf. She grabbed Jaggun’s collar and dragged him out. He flourished his dagger, but the werewolf sprung away. “Oh, so you want to play rough, hmm? Fine. I hope there’s a bed in this castle strong enough to withstand the punishment I’m about to dole out.”

She advanced on Jaggun cautiously. Jaggun tried to inch towards the stairs, but she blocked his escape. Shuffling and lurching, the werewolf probed Jaggun’s guard for weaknesses. Jaggun slashed and feinted, warding off her rapacious claws. But the werewolf was too fast. Jaggun’s arm overextended and the werewolf smiled.

“Too slow!”

Grabbing his arm, she swept his foot out from under him with a swift kick. Jaggun toppled to the floor as the dagger was twisted out of his hands.

“Gottcha! Oh, this is going to be oh so satisfy-“

The werewolf’s gloating was interrupted by a kick to the gut delivered by the knight’s armored foot. She let out a startled wheeze as she was knocked off Jaggun.

“I thought I told you to SCRAM!” panted the werewolf. She lunged at the knight and slashed at her. There was a piercing screech of metal as the beast’s claws raked the breastplate.

“I said don’t hurt him”

The knight seized the werewolf by the neck. She effortlessly raised the beast over her head and slammed her through a cask. The werewolf howled and began to rake the knight’s armor with her claws. Row after row of white lines were carved into the steel as the werewolf’s frenzied swipes battered the knight. To her credit, the knight took it like a champ. She didn’t flinch as the blows rained down. The werewolf’s blows jarred her head back and forth as she tore at the visor, but the stoic knight held her firmly in front of her by the throat. Jaggun realized that this was no ordinary woman. That werewolf had been able to toss a wine cask; and this knight was now taking blows from the supernaturally strong creature on the chin.

The werewolf’s onslaught petered out as she gasped and panted. Her claws clenched each of the knight’s wrists that held her throat.
“He’s mine.” Said the knight.

“You bitch… I was tracking him for days…” grunted the werewolf.

“I saw him first.”

The knight let go of the wolf. She collapsed to her knees, coughing and clutching her neck.

“Go.”

The werewolf cut her losses and scampered out of the basement uttering a string of curses. Jaggun and the knight watched her go. Soon, the only sound left was the crackling of the torch in the sconce the knight had left it in. The armored figure looked at him. Jaggun stared back. She shuffled awkwardly and looked away.

“What are you?” whispered Jaggun.

The knight flinched. One of her hands ran over the scores of claw marks coating her breastplate.

“…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I know I was made to protect, but… I’ve never protected anything before…”

Jaggun noticed that the her voice had a melancholic hint to it. She didn’t seem evil. But that didn’t answer the questions he had.
“Are you human?” asked Jaggun. He regretted it immediately. What was he going to do if she wasn’t?

The woman sighed. She flipped up her visor. A glowing spectral face looked sheepishly at Jaggun. What struck him was how out of place she looked. Her face was dainty and delicate; an abrupt juxtaposition to the thick plate armor she wore and the brute strength she had used to fight off the werewolf.

“What…” Jaggun couldn’t find the words he was looking for. She was beautiful and haunting at the same time. Clearly she was some sort of spirit. But her demeanor and looks were positively enchanting.

“I don’t know.” Said the spirit dolefully. “I just… woke up one day. But everything was broken, and all the humans were gone. I knew I was supposed to protect them, but there was no one to protect…” the spirit sniffled. “So I stood watch, waiting for them to return. I was so lonely. I thought I might be alone forever, but then you came along. I saw how frightened you were. Jumping at your own shadow, flinching at every noise… And I figured you would be less scared if you had someone to watch over you.”

She fidgeted nervously. “But you were so shy, and I’ve never talked to someone before, so I just waited for you in the hallway while you robbed the castle. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“So you’re a guardian spirit? Here to follow me around?” asked Jaggun incredulously.

The woman blushed. Jaggun would have said that the notion that ghosts can blush was ludicrous if anyone had asked him, but sure enough her cheeks turned a deeper shade of teal against her pale blue face.

“Not exactly follow…” she said.

“Then what?” asked Jaggun. Oh Chief God, was she going to make him stay here?! Trap him in the basement so that she always had someone to take care of? There wasn’t enough food here, he would starve in a few days or be forced to eat rats for sustenance for the rest of his miserable life…

“...I want you to wear me.” Said the spirit.

Jaggun cocked his head. That wasn’t the answer he was expecting. “Wear you? What do you mean wear? Do you mean the armor you’re possessing?”

“I am the armor. It’s a part of me. I suppose I technically animate it, but I can’t leave the armor.”

Jaggun gulped. “What would happen to me if I got in that armor?”

The living armor shut her visor. “W-we would be… joined. I don’t know how else to describe it. I don’t even know how I know that.”
The color drained from Jaggun’s face. “Joined…?” That sounded sinister.

“It’s not like that.” She said, shaking her hands in front of her. “It would be like me wrapping myself around you, that’s all.” She raised her visor again. Her face was a brilliant shade of turquoise.

“…And I would live?” asked Jaggun.

“Yes.”

“And it wouldn’t hurt?”

“It wouldn’t.”

“…Do I have a say in the matter?”

The living armor drooped. “I really want to get to know you better… And you would still be in full control. Once you’re inside, I won’t be moving you on my own. We can go wherever you want and do anything you want. I just want someone to… to…”

She sniffled and wiped her eye with the back of her glove. Jaggun didn’t know what to make of the situation. A blushing, crying, adorable ghost woman was the last thing he expected to find in this castle. It SEEMED safe enough to trust her. After all, she had already protected him from the werewolf. And if she wanted to kill him, she probably would have done so already.

Jaggun sighed. What did he have to lose? That werewolf was probably lurking in the woods nearby. He was as good as dead if he didn’t take her up on her bargain. If what she said was true, he would be able to walk all the way home without hiding.

“What’s your name?” he asked. It seemed improper to… enter a lady without asking for her name first.

“Name?” said the armor, cocking her head to the side. Her visor flopped down, and she raised it up again. Jaggun grinned. She was pretty cute for a set of armor.

“What do you call yourself?”

“Me.”

“Yes, you. What do you refer to yourself as?” repeated Jaggun.

“Me, myself, or I.” said the ghost.

Jaggun shook his head. “But that’s not your name. My name is Jaggun. What’s your name?”

The ghost stared at him, spectral mouth agape in confusion. “I… I don’t know. I’ve never had one before. How do I get one?”

Jaggun sighed. “I guess we’ll have to make one for you.”

The living armor looked delighted at the prospect. “I’ll be happy with anything, as long as you choose it.”

Jaggun’s confidence faltered. The pressure was on. All the names he thought of disappeared. None of them seemed to suit her. Oh Chief God, what should he call her? This would be her name for the rest of her life! Or unlife. And that was forever!

“Well, you clank when you move, so how about Clank?” offered Jaggun. That was terrible! Why did he say that!? It was the only thing he could think of, say something else quick!

The living armor did a small shuffle. “Clank. My name is Clank!” she said, with the most emotion Jaggun had ever heard from her.

“It doesn’t have to be! We can change it!” offered Jaggun.

“No! It’s perfect. I love it, Jaggun.”

Jaggun’s heart skipped a beat. That beatific smile of her was enough to melt stone.

“Now that that’s out of the way, you should get inside.”

Clank turned around and hunched over. The straps of the armor magically undid themselves all at once, and the armor opened. Segments floated in the air, held in place by ghostly force.

Jaggun gulped. Clank may have been a spectral figure, but she was a figure alright. Petite breasts rose out of her slender chest, each capped with a ghostly nipple just a bit darker than the rest of her body. Jaggun’s treacherous eyes ran down her svelte waist to her pronounced hips and buttocks. Gods she looked soft…

“Jaggun?”

Jaggun coughed and averted his gaze. “Sorry! Sorry. I wasn’t expecting…”

“Expecting what?” asked Clank. She was unabashed by her nudity, making no attempt to hide the dark slit between her slender thighs.

“Nothing! Nothing. I’m coming in, okay?” said Jaggun.

He took off his boots and shed any clothing he felt might catch in the armor’s joints. He stood in front of the hollow armor, Clank looking at him expectantly. Was he really about to do this?

“What are you waiting for? Here, I’ll help you.”

Clank took his hand in her own. It was a strange sensation; she felt neither solid nor spectral. And warm! Jaggun’s hand tingled at her touch. Accepting her help with balance, he put one foot after the other into the armor’s boots and leaned in.

There was a hiss of leather and grinding of metal as the armor snapped shut around him. Straps tightened, plates adjusted, and joints limbered as Clank formatted the suit to fit Jaggun. He should have been afraid. He should have been terrified the second it slammed shut, trapping him inside. But he wasn’t. The sensation of Clank wrapping around him left him in ecstasy. A warmth that pervaded his very soul, promising him succor against all the world. Home. Home was the only word that fit the sensation Jaggun felt. He had a house in town, but it was rarely used. And when it was, it was a place to sleep. A storage shed for his few worldly possessions. This armor… This was a home. A place where he was safe in the arms of someone who loved him; where evil had no power.

Jaggun fell to his knees. For the first time in years, the tension he carried melted away. The dark fog that had haunted his mind for nearly half a decade was blown away by a cleansing wind.

“Shh… It’s alright, Jaggun. I won’t let anything happen to you. Not ever again.”

Clank’s soothing voice resonated through his being. Tears rolled down his face as he collapsed onto the ground. Spectral hands manifested within the helmet to wipe them away. Jaggun felt Clank’s own fear wash away with his presence. All the anxiety she carried from being left alone, all the nightmares about never finding someone to love faded as she wrapped him in her arms.

“I won’t leave you alone, Clank. I promise.” Choked Jaggun through his tears.

“Yeah…”

~~~~~~

Jaggun walked out of the castle a changed man. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t look at the sky for harpies, or dark corners for beasts. He walked with his head held high and courage in his heart.

“Oooh… The sun! It’s so bright!” said Clank.

Jaggun opened the visor.

“What are those!?” gasped Clank.

Jaggun could sense that she was looking at trees. Their senses seemed to be linked. It was a strange sensation, but the comfort it brough him was otherworldly. His own memories and understanding of trees and the wilderness flooded into Clank. She wanted to see them up close.

“Can we?” she asked.

“Of course.”

Jaggun walked down the hill. His body felt lighter; more nimble than it had before. The urge to run took hold of him. It seemed they BOTH wanted to see how fast he could move.

Jaggun lengthened his stride. The land around him blurred as he raced faster than any mortal man ever could. Power coursed through him. Leaping into the air, he caught hold of a thick tree branch and swung off of it into the air. Clank expressed momentary distress as they flipped, but maneuvered the suit of armor so that they landed on their feet.

“Be careful!” chided Clank.

Jaggun laughed. To run free like this, in monster territory. He never thought he would ever experience anything like this. To live without fear. Not without fear, per se, but without undue fear. No longer was he a wrenched, craven, beast who dragged his belly through the muck in search of scavenge. He was a man once more.
~~~~~~~

“Clank…”

“I’m here. You’ll be alright. You said you wanted this, remember?”

Clank’s hand ran over Jaggun’s own, squeezing it tightly. He looked up at the castle. The very same castle that he and his friends had tried to raid all those years ago.

“What if we’re wrong, Clank? What if they really DID get eaten? How do we know that the monsters that took them were affected by mamono mana?” asked Jaggun.

“They were. You didn’t see anyone get eaten. I’ve watched the memory a hundred times. Now go, or I’m moving our legs for us.” Threatened Clank.

Jaggun sluggishly approached the castle.

“Hmm? Who the hell are you?”

Jaggun jumped. A bored looking ghoul eyed them warily. “Not too often we get tourists around here. What do you want? Lady Otavi isn’t expecting guests.”

“Uhh… I-I’m looking for someone. Err, a few people actually. They were attacked here years ago. By monsters.” Said Jaggun.
The undead smirked in amusement as Jaggun fumbled his words. “You don’t say? Wouldn’t have been in the early spring, would it?”
“It was. There were about twenty of us.” Said Jaggun.

The ghoul’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! I remember that! That’s how I met my husband!”

“Told you so.” Said Clank.

“I knew your husband. I was one of the people that… organized the expedition…” said Jaggun shamefully.

She gasped. “It was YOU?! YOU’RE Jaggun? THE Jaggun?! Wow!” she hurried over to shake his hand. “Thank you so much! Delless is a wonderful man. He was bitter at first, but he forgives you now.”

The ghoul gasped again. “WAIT! That means you know Lord Covel too!”

“He’s a ‘Lord’ now?” asked Jaggun.

“I’ll take you to him right now!”

The ghoul quickly dragged Jaggun by the wrist into the castle.

“LORD COVEL!” she cried.

A very surprised Covel looked up from his plate of food, mouth still stuffed with some sort of mushroom dish. A beautiful wight stared at the intruding trio mid sip. A much smaller wight took the opportunity to hide some of her vegetables in her napkin.

“You have a visitor!” said the ghoul.

“So I see… Why couldn’t this wait?” asked Covel, making no attempt to hide his annoyance.

“Is that any way to treat an old friend?” asked Clank. She flipped Jaggun’s visor.

Covel dropped his fork.

“Is everything alright dear?” asked Otavi, glancing between Covel and Jaggun.

“…Jaggun? Is it really you?” whispered Covel.

“I could ask you the same thing, Covel.” Said Jaggun with a grin.

Covel ran over and embraced him. Jaggun reciprocated the gesture, mindful not to crush his friend with Clank’s unnatural strength.

“THE Jaggun?!” said Otavi.

“I thought you were dead.” Said Jaggun, fighting back tears.

“I almost was. I thought I would never see you again! I thought they got us all!” said Covel. He frowned. “By Eros, you look older. Are you alright, Jaggun?”

“He is as long as he has me.” Said Clank, manifesting her face in front of Jaggun’s. She had become more expressive since they had bonded.

“Oh! And, who might you be? I hope you’ve been taking care of Jaggun. He has a bad habit of rushing ahead without planning things out first.” Said Covel.

“I take the BEST care of him. My name is Clank.” Said the living armor.

“Clank?” said Covel.

“Jaggun named me that.” Said Clank proudly.

Covel gave Jaggun a sly grin. Jaggun glowered at him.

“Well, I’m glad to see everything worked out for you, even if it was a bit circuitous.” Said Covel. “Our friends all learned, as I did, that monsters aren’t quite what the Order made them out to be.”

He gestured to the wights. “This is my wife Otavi, and my daughter Soamia.”

The smaller wight waved at Clank and Jaggun as she kicked her little feet back and forth under the table.

“I’ve heard so much about you! I was starting to think that I would never have the pleasure.” Said Otavi. She stood next to Covel and offered her hand. “Thank you so much for delivering Covel and the others to us. It means- O-Oh. I mean, we’re just thankful for… I didn’t mean it was your fault.”

“It was.” Said Jaggun.

Covel frowned. “Are you sure you’re alright? You seem… different.”

Jaggun sighed. “It was a long couple of years. I thought you were all dead. Eaten. Died in the most horrific way possible, and I left you all for dead. You couldn’t have written? Couldn’t have given the folks back home a sign that you were still alive?”

“Would letters from a dead man have made you feel better?” asked Covel.

Jaggun clenched his fist. He was right. What would Covel have written? “Hey, I’m still alive and uneaten even though you saw me dragged away by zombies. P.S., one of them is now my wife.” No one would have believed it.

“Well, closure us closure, no matter how late it comes.” Said Covel, putting a hand on Jaggun’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Said Jaggun.

“If you need a place to stay, we’ve got plenty of guest rooms.” Offered Covel.

“Thank you, but I don’t think I could live in just one place. Not yet. Maybe someday.” Said Jaggun.

“Any time you please. So, what will you do now?”

Jaggun opened and closed his armored hand. Clank’s energy flowed through him.

“Think I’ll help some folks.” Said Jaggun.

Covel chuckled. “No more raiding? No epic scheme to get rich? No ancient treasure to unearth? You really have changed.”

“For the better.” Jaggun smiled.

“For the better indeed. Well, if you and Clank ever need respite, we’ll welcome you back with open arms. I’m sure we could find a use for you around here; no end to the Order incursions at the edges of our territory.” Said Jaggun.

“Thank you, Covel. I’ll keep the offer in mind.” Nodded Jaggun.

“A pleasure to meet you both.” Said Clank.

“And you as well.” Said Otavi.

“Soamia! Say goodbye to Uncle Jaggun.” Said Covel.

“Uncle…?” muttered Jaggun. Clank quietly shushed him.

“Bye Uncle Jaggun. Bye Aunt Clank.” Said the little wight.

“Cute.” Said Clank.

“I’ll see you around Covel. We’ll have to catch up with the other guys some time.” Said Jaggun.

“Count on it.” Said Covel.

Jaggun followed the ghoul out of the castle.

“So, who should we help first?” asked Clank.

“Whoever we can.” Replied Jaggun.

~~~~~~~

Word quickly spread through the cities and towns on the frontier of Order territory. Tales of a jovial knight who fought off entire camps of bandits with nothing but his bare hands and supernatural fighting skills. Some said that he was a hero, blessed by the Chief God herself to smite the wicked. Others said he was a silent protector of the land, out to avenge his dead wife and child.

All stories were consistent in at least a few regards. The man was given the appellation The Steel Hermit, for his battle-scarred armor and reticent tendencies. He never stayed in town very long, and when he did, he never said much. Though he rarely interacted much with the townsfolk, he was always cordial and jovial when he did speak, and always made sure to leave a fancy ring or sack of coins in the bowls of beggars along the street as he went. Most folks thought him insane, the way he was always murmuring and giggling to himself. Some swear that he even shifted his voice, switching between the personalities of a man and a woman.

But none of these rumors could shake the peace that Clank had finally brought to Jaggun.