Shield of the Rose

“Things have been unstable outside lately. Don’t go wandering around; stay at home. Do you hear me?”

“Do you really need to tell me that? I’m not blind. There are police officers everywhere arresting people.”

“You are just being stubborn. Don’t tell me you didn’t go out to watch the commotion. Where did those leaflets come from?”

“Alright, alright! I already burned them all. Why bring it up again? I just thought the paper was of good quality, and since it was free, it was perfect for lighting the fire.”

“You… I don’t know what goes on in that head of yours. How can you be so greedy for such a dangerous bargain? It’s not like we’re short on money.”

“Stop nagging. Go tend to your own business!”

“Are you driving me away? I took time off work just to check on you because I was worried. Do you think I have nothing to do?”

“Alright! I know you care about me.”

“This is my final warning. Don’t go running around outside.”

“You’ve said it a hundred times already. I promise I won’t even step out the door. Is that enough?”

“Fine, I won’t waste more words. I have to get back to work. I won’t be able to return home tonight, and it’s hard to say if I can make it back tomorrow or the day after.”

“Why more overtime? I thought the aid supplies were already distributed.”

“What do you know? This protest has delayed everything. And it’s not just here; protests are breaking out in multiple cities, as if they planned it. My superior warned us to stay clear of this mess. It’s likely instigated by Norman Alliance spies. The capital is manageable, as they controlled the situation quickly, but other places are in chaos, with trucks and cargo burned. It’s just bringing trouble to my desk.”

Standing at the top of the stairs, Richie listened to the voices from within. It seemed his father shared his concern for the family and his mother.

Stepping to the landing, he reached the door just as it opened.

His father was preparing to leave. Seeing his son at the door, his face lit up with joy. Since arriving in Peines, he had rarely had the chance to see his son.

He immediately abandoned his rush to leave. Since he was going to work overtime anyway, a brief delay did not matter. Pulling his son inside, Richie’s father began to ask him about his well-being.

Richie answered his questions, feeling a sense of nostalgia. Remembering something, he retrieved a stack of cash from his pocket. “Mother, this is for you. It’s more than before. I’ve been promoted.”

To his surprise, his mother, who was usually quick to accept money, did not touch the cash, pushing his hand back.

“We don’t need it now. Your father’s salary is more than enough. His position doesn’t offer kickbacks, but they issue supplies constantly. We don’t have to buy food or daily items from the market anymore.”

His mother’s face was flushed with pride. “Being an official is indeed wonderful. No wonder everyone wants a post.”

Hearing this, Richie’s father smiled, though Aunt Ling, standing nearby, looked slightly envious.

Suddenly, Richie’s mother pinched his ear, a teasing grin on her face. “You brat, you gave most of your salary to those girls, didn’t you? Your aunt and I calculated your pay scale based on your father’s salary. You’ve been hiding it from me.”

Before she could finish, Aunt Ling chuckled and pinched his other ear. “You still tried to lie to us. Your classmates live in the very next alley.”

Richie sighed inwardly. It seemed he was surrounded by clever people. His secrets had not escaped his father or his mother. The family knew the truth all along, choosing only to remain silent.

He knew he had to find a topic of interest to divert their attention, otherwise these two women would cross-examine him until trouble arose.

Hegert’s proposal came to mind, serving as the perfect distraction.

He pushed the cash into his mother’s hands. “Just take it, Mother. Aren’t you envious of others’ jewelry? Now you have the money to buy some. You can wear it for pleasure, and sell it if an emergency arises.”

His mother hesitated. Her husband’s salary was sufficient for daily expenses, but not for jewelry.

“What about them? There are many of them,” she said, her stance softening, though she still felt reluctant.

“They aren’t short of money. I found some work for them. Ginny, Sophie, Emily, and Emily’s mother, Ingrid, all possess Psion bloodlines, and I helped them awaken their talents. Emily and Ingrid have the ‘Refining’ ability, and they’ve established a research laboratory.”

Aunt Ling’s eyes lit up. She had been feeling useless lately. Though she had lodging and food, she felt like a burden, living off her brother-in-law’s earnings.

“Could I help them? A laboratory must have transactions and accounts. I could manage the bookkeeping,” Aunt Ling volunteered. Managing accounts was simple for her, having run her late husband’s business.

Richie had not expected his distraction to create another complication.

He had no intention of accepting her offer. Shaji and Melissa were already managing the accounts, and Shaji’s business experience far exceeded Aunt Ling’s. She was skilled in both bookkeeping and management.

He knew that if the lab was established, the Junior Army and Lina’s father would both send representatives. To prevent infighting and power struggles, the best approach was to leave the management to Shaji and Melissa.

Allowing Aunt Ling to intervene would only invite trouble.

Noticing his mother’s eyes lighting up as well, Richie felt a headache coming on.

If his mother joined, her status as his mother would force the others to defer to her. Since she lacked business sense, she would defer to Aunt Ling, whose personal interests might complicate matters.

Richie decided he had to find another project for Aunt Ling.

Finding a solution was difficult, as he had to ensure it would not cause other complications.

The women at the villa were different from his mother and aunt. The girls’ mothers had been kept as captives by the Varedins, witnessing death and suffering. Having survived, they held a detached view of life.

His mother and aunt were the opposite. His mother was enjoying her new status, her vanity rising, while Aunt Ling was frustrated by her current situation. Her offer to manage the accounts showed she was eager to assert herself.

Moreover, the sisters loved to compare themselves. If Aunt Ling succeeded, his mother would certainly feel left out.

Faced with this dilemma, Richie cast a pleading look at his father.

His father felt a chill. Abandoning his plans to chat, he jumped up.

“I’m late, I’m late! I must get to work,” he muttered, rushing out the door.

Watching his father flee, Richie cursed him silently for his lack of loyalty.

Turning back, he met the intense gazes of his mother and aunt.

His throat felt dry, and he unbuttoned his collar.

He realized his uniform was wrinkled.

This was the trouble with the standard uniforms; they looked neat but wrinkled easily under physical strain. Consequently, many Knights prepared their own combat suits.

An idea struck him. He remembered Aunt Ling ran a leather business.

“Is there a type of leather that doesn’t wrinkle easily?” Richie asked, unsure of his theory.

“Of course. Leather has natural elasticity and doesn’t wrinkle easily, especially soft leather,” Aunt Ling replied, her tone shifting to that of a merchant.

Richie pinched his sleeve. “It needs to be thin like this cloth, but stronger, and it shouldn’t wrinkle no matter how I move.”

Remembering his first assignment in the cold winter, he added, “And it must keep me warm.”

Aunt Ling fell silent. The requirements were demanding.

She fell into thought, then stood up and entered her room, retrieving a locked suitcase from under the bed.

The suitcase was her most prized possession, which she had carried throughout their escape. It contained clothes and money, but its most valuable item was a small booklet hidden in a secret compartment at the bottom.

It was her late husband’s recipe book, containing proprietary leather treatment formulas.

After consulting the booklet, Aunt Ling emerged with a confident smile.

“It can be done. There is a soft leather that fits, though it is expensive.”

This was not a sales pitch. The leather was rarely sold because its application was limited, originally designed for deep-sea diving suits.

The material was difficult to secure, requiring seal skin.

Seal skin was highly valuable. It was usually made into fur coats, which were far more profitable.

“Price is not an issue,” Richie said. The suits would be sold to Knights, who had plenty of money. “Can you make a prototype suit for me first?”

He wanted to test it himself, lacking full confidence in her claims.

His requirements were strict: non-wrinkling, elastic, flexible, strong, warm, and breathable.

“If the quality is good, I can help you sell it. You can set the price,” Richie promised.

Aunt Ling smiled, preferring her old trade over bookkeeping.

“But I have no workshop, tools, or materials,” she noted.

Richie sighed, realizing he would have to ask Hegert for assistance. Hegert could easily arrange it, especially since Richie planned to pitch the suits to the Junior Army.

He rose early to help in the kitchen, practicing his knife work before the morning drills.

Most of his sparring was done with Dana, though he occasionally sparred with Lina.

Having achieved the Ace rank, Dana’s speed was overwhelming, leaving Richie with little room to counter.

His slipstream technique, which even Lina struggled to counter, was useless against Dana.

Before he could sense the air currents, Dana’s spear would already strike. Her Lightning Aura possessed incredible explosive power, concentrated into a single point. His “Reflective Mirror” was equally ineffective; her full strike shattered his mirror shield, and the remaining force pierced through his double-layered heavy armor plates.

Staring at the fist-sized hole in the armor, Richie felt a chill.

He wondered if Dana was his natural counter.

However, the defeat resolved his hesitation.

Though the librarian had advised him to move away from the “Reflective Mirror,” he had been reluctant to abandon his signature technique.

But the hole in the armor forced him to reconsider.

He suspected that others had developed similar reflection techniques in the past, but their practitioners had likely perished.

Having made his decision, altering his combat habits proved difficult.

Richie spent a challenging week adjusting.

After lunch and a brief rest, Richie resumed his drills, holding a flexible wooden rod.

Espol’s blade was unique, and this custom rod was the only suitable training tool he could find. The rod was designed to bend in only one direction, with a balance matching the blade.

His sparring partner was Dana, who held a wooden staff, giving her a significant reach advantage.

Dana’s movements were no longer straightforward. Since reaching the Ace rank, her attacks had become more varied, combining her usual speed and power with unpredictable direction changes.

Both moved with rapid speed.

Richie’s movements resembled leaves in a breeze, applying his slipstream insights to his forms. His attacks shifted between the agility of a sword and the weight of a saber.

Dana’s style was different; she struck rarely, but with blinding speed.

Her staff slid forward, executing three rapid directional shifts in an instant, appearing as three separate weapons.

“Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!”

Richie took three hits, crying out in pain.

“It still doesn’t work. The blade is not a simple combination of sword and saber,” Dana said, lowering her staff. She turned to Lina.

Lina sat nearby, her arms crossed, lost in thought.

Richie’s failure was also her failure, as she had yet to unlock the weapon’s secret.

“Maybe we should ask for help,” Richie suggested, watching Lina’s reaction.

He met her glare and quickly dropped the subject, knowing she would punish him for suggesting outside help.

Just then, Rosa, who was on guard duty, called out, “Richie, someone is looking for you.”

A carriage stood at the gate, with two women looking out the window.

“Can I take a break? My mother and aunt are here,” Richie asked Dana.

Dana glanced at the gate, having met Richie’s mother once.

“Very well. You have one hour,” Dana approved.

Richie ran to the gate.

“Son, your aunt finished the suit. We put a lot of effort into it,” his mother called out before he reached them.

Aunt Ling rolled her eyes, annoyed by her sister’s habit of taking credit.

Richie helped them down and led them to the visitor room in the expanded camp.

“Coffee or tea?” he asked.

“Tea.”

“Tea for me as well, with milk.”

They made themselves comfortable.

Richie shook his head, helpless against them.

Brewing tea took some time. When he returned with the tray, Aunt Ling had spread the suit on the table.

“It matches the design you provided. See if it fits,” she said with a professional smile, looking more like a merchant than an aunt.

Richie set the tray down and picked up the suit. The design was indeed what Emily and Ingrid had created.

Like their escape suits, it was a one-piece jumpsuit, but the opening was in the front, making it easier to wear and more durable.

“Try it on,” Aunt Ling said.

Richie hesitated, looking out the window.

With no one watching, he stripped off his training uniform, leaving only his compression undergarments. Standing with his back to the women, he felt embarrassed as his member shifted beneath the fabric.

The leather was soft and smooth, with a slight stretch.

It appeared small, but it expanded to fit his body snugly. Securing the belt, he moved his limbs.

It felt excellent, offering full flexibility without tension, behaving like a second skin.

Richie checked his crotch, pleased to find the suit did not display his outline as tightly as his undergarments.

The only drawback was the warmth.

Suddenly, Richie felt a tickle on his shoulder. He swatted instinctively, catching a fly in his palm.

The result surprised him. He had requested the suit for flexibility and appearance, not expecting it to enhance his tactile perception of the environment, which was vital for armor operation.

“How does it feel?” his mother asked.

Before Richie could answer, Rosa called out again, “Richie, someone else is here.”

He sighed, noting how busy his day had become.

Asking his mother and aunt to wait, Richie ran out to find Hegert leaning against the gate, chatting with Rosa.

“The work is completed. Let’s go see,” Hegert said.

Richie asked Calli for leave, and invited his mother and aunt along, as he could not leave them behind.

They joined Hegert in his carriage, and Hegert soon noticed Richie’s suit.

“Is that your combat suit? It looks impressive,” Hegert noted.

“You have good taste. Would you like one?” Aunt Ling pitched immediately.

She did not exaggerate its qualities, knowing Knights preferred to trust their own senses.

“So you asked me to secure a workshop just to make this?” Hegert asked Richie.

“Would you like one?” Richie replied, helping her pitch. “You practice scout arts; you’ll appreciate the sensitivity it offers.”

The comment caught Hegert off guard. He had planned to make Richie owe him a favor, but now felt intrigued.

“Tell me the details,” Hegert said, nudging him.

“Do you know Espol’s research direction?” Richie asked.

“I dislike mystery. Just tell me,” Hegert pressed.

“You should read more, otherwise your path as a Knight will be limited,” Richie teased, before explaining: “This is what Trisli said. She brought a stack of books with her.”

Hegert considered this, resolving to study more.

“Espol believes true armor is a living organism that grows, repairs, and senses. His research is far from complete, but he has made progress.”

“And he gave you the results?” Hegert asked suspiciously.

“If you have a hoard of gold, do you care about a copper coin?” Richie replied. “I cannot understand his complex theories, but he does not mind sharing the simpler concepts.”

“Fair enough,” Hegert agreed, turning to Aunt Ling. “I would like to order one.”

Aunt Ling smiled.

They reached the lake, where a row of log cabins stood.

“Is this the lab?” Richie asked, looking at the simple structures.

“Are you dissatisfied?” Hegert asked.

“They look like barracks,” Richie muttered. He had wanted a nicer place for the girls.

“You lack vision,” Hegert replied, patting a wall. “The wood is one-inch birch, treated to be fireproof and waterproof. No civilian builder would use such materials.”

“Very well. It is excellent,” Richie conceded, noting the quality of the birch.

Hegert opened the door to show him the interior.

The layout was practical: a sturdy oak table stood against the east wall, and shelves lined the other walls, stocked with reagents and devices.

“This is the main lab. The adjacent cabin is the secondary lab, and there are three warehouses. Across the lake is the metal workshop. If you need larger parts fabricated, provide the design, and I will arrange it,” Hegert explained.

Richie was impressed; the setup exceeded his expectations.

“I have a task for you,” Hegert said.

Richie recognized this as the condition for his help.

They entered another cabin, which housed a captured battle armor from the Norman Alliance. It was a standard-issue model, devoid of decoration, with multiple mounting points for weapons.

“We suffered significant losses to capture this. Its energy core has a self-destruct mechanism that triggers upon capture,” Hegert said solemnly. “This is the new standard armor of the Norman Alliance.”

Richie inspected the armor. “Have you tested it? How does it perform?”

“That is why I am concerned,” Hegert sighed. “It is simple and lightweight, yet its speed and agility are remarkable. Its energy core and sinews are of a new design, offering greater power.”

“Is it superior to custom armor?” Richie asked.

Hegert smiled. “In other legions, only elite Knights have custom armor. But if supplies become limited, only standard armor will have replacement parts.”

His words cast a shadow over the conversation.

“What are your plans?” Richie asked.

“We are attempting to replicate it, but we have hit a wall,” Hegert admitted.

“I understand,” Richie said. “Provide a list of issues, and I will consult Espol.”

Hegert’s expression cleared immediately.

Richie went to the Ricard Hotel to meet Espol, Yiluo, and Madame Shar.

The elders returned at dinner time, looking exhausted, accompanied by the librarian.

“Did you find the cause?” Espol asked.

“Yes,” Richie replied.

He looked at Madame Shar, hesitating before speaking. “Ginny added semen to the experiment.”

The elders fell into thought. Espol clapped his hands. “Of course! I used somatic cells, but reproductive cells contain far more life information and activity!”

Richie mentioned the Junior Army’s request.

Yiluo noted they had seen another captured armor at the national arsenal.

Shar explained it was designed by the legendary customizer Poronov.

Espol praised the design: it used 26 independent modules for easy repair and manufacturing.

Yiluo noted a complication: Poronov used materials only found in the Norman Alliance, making replication impossible. Designing a new standard armor would take a year.

The librarian promised Espol would help if the Junior Army could provide a feasible proposal.

During dinner, the librarian noticed Richie’s leather suit.

Richie explained: “Since Primordial Armor might be a living organism, I wondered if we could use biological materials. So I made this suit.”

“It enhances perception. I can feel a fly on my shoulder,” Richie added.

The librarian reached out and plucked a hair from Richie’s neck. Richie caught his hand instantly.

“It is true,” the librarian said, looking at Espol.

Espol was struck by inspiration. “Leather is the most complete biological material, with natural pores and cells. If we use metal to replace the organic components…”

The elders began a heated debate on organic leather armor. Yiluo gave Richie a thumbs-up.

Richie smiled, pleased with the outcome.

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