Araline met Logan once more, on the eave of the armies march. They had spent the previous night together, allying fear with the only real cure.
She was dressed in full battle armor before he even awoke that morning-distinctive in that it was not made of steel rings or scales , but rather some sort of mail that resembled overlapping leaves dipped in bronze-yet these were stronger than steel...it was amazingly light and well fitted, one of her many gifts from far off admirers. In truth, she did not know who sent it. But it wwas useful. This was fitted with a hawks head helmet, greaves, gloves and all other accoutrements. It was what she had worn in the war, and...
Araline had turned to the King when he came in, after viewing herself sideways in the mirror.
"...I suppose it was wishful thinking to have hope I would not need this for very long."
She attached her sword and shield to her belt-thankfully, rarely used.
Araline finally spoke in tones of confidence, comfortable at last.
"Anyway, who knows what we'll find out there. The reports are bad.
If it worse than I have figured, I won't be coming back. If I can't save my lands, I'll die in them, I suppose. You have no use for me if I cannot defend my own duchy.
So try not to worry too much, hmm?
It's not like we had the time to make much of anything permanent...that said, if this the last I speak to you, know that it was a pleasure to serve alongside you, Logan. A true pleasure."
She turned away then, back to the mirror, adjusting her padded shirt collar fussily. Araline didn't know what else to say.