A Timely Endowment

“Who’s a mighty warrior? That’s right, you are. You are. Yes. Yes you are!”

Frankie’s tail wags furiously as Baine playfully ruffles his fur, pushing the puppy around gently. The little hound yaps happily, then suddenly goes still, nose twitching as he catches an unfamiliar scent amid the leather, hay and horse sweat of the stables.

“You Baine?”

He turns and straightens to see a tall, muscular figure silhouetted against the bright sunshine of the yard. Nearly topping his own impressive height, the woman is clad in well worn half plate, long braids woven with beads and charms that click as she moves. She shifts her huge shoulders impatiently, and he finds his tongue at last.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’s me. I’m Baine. Hi. And you-”

“Boss wants you. He’s in his study.”

Her voice is deep and raw, as though very rarely used. She turns to go, stopping half way and looking back over her shoulder.

“Nice dog.”

Without waiting for a response she strides off in the direction of the kitchens. Baine stands for a moment in shocked silence, until Frankie whimpers and nuzzles his trouser leg. He crouched and begins to pet the dog without looking away from the retreating figure.

“I know, right? Guess I better go see the boss man. You wait here.”

With one more playful ruffle, Baine stands and crosses the yard to the Grandmaster’s door, knocking and waiting for the crisp “come in” before opening it and stepping inside. Varis looks up from his desk, nodding to the younger man as he enters.

“Baine. Good. I’ve been thinking about our sparring session last week. I thought you might appreciate this.”

He gestures to a heavy wooden chest that sits flush to the far wall. Baine looks at him quizzically.

“Go ahead, open it.”

The young half Orc walks over to the chest, lifting the heavy lid with one hand. Inside is a worn but well cared for suit of heavy plate. The steel shows recent hammer marks, but shines in the lamplight and a black gauntlet on a red field has been lacquered at the centre of the cuirass.

“I had Ben rework it a bit - you’re a fair foot taller and much broader than me, but it should fit alright. You said you’ve never worn harness before, correct?”

Baine reaches out a careful hand, stopping short of touching the coat of arms on the chest plate.
He looks back at Varis, confusion and excitement both plain on his face.

“I- no, no I haven’t, I- is this for me? I thought we were going to make one?”

Varis smiles.

“We will. But a full suit of plate takes time” his smile fades “and time is a luxury we do not have. This was mine once. It will serve you well until we can make you something of your own.”

Baine smiles back. “Well, shit. Thank you, sir.” It’s probably the most sincere that honorific has sounded coming from him.

Varis rises, moving to stand in front of the half orc, looking up into his dark eyes.

“Things are about to get dangerous around here. Sigil, Baator - the places we need to go - the people we will need to deal with - are no joke Baine. I need to know you’re ready for this.”

Baine meets his usual, intense gaze with an unusually serious one of his own.
He swallows once and turns back to the armor before him, finally reaching out to touch it. He places a hand on the image of a bloodied fist, nodding minutely in agreement.

“I don’t know that I am, Varis. Sunday doesn’t seem to think so. But you asked me, and I understand the risk I’m taking. And I want to help. We made a deal, you and I, when I first moved in - you call, I’ll come. It still stands.”

He holds on to the tension of the moment for just a second before nodding to the chest before them and winking.

“I’m gonna need you to help me put this thing on though, I have no idea how it works. I’ll strangle myself with all these straps.”

Varis looks at Baine for a long moment, eyes narrowed slightly in thought, appraising the other man. Then he nods slowly, laying a hand on Baine’s shoulder.

“Good. I don’t know if any of us are ever ready, but in the end, there’s only one way to really know.”

He stoops and pulls a long padded gambeson from the chest, throwing it to Baine with a smile.

“Alright. Let’s see how it fits.”

Fin.

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Behold, the shortest thing Varis/G'Lorth/Sundilar and I have ever written.