Solomon and an invisible Raizel stood outside of a red-roofed building in the middle of a busy street.
The specter's eyes twinkled with anticipation.
"Could you try to love this a little less?" Solomon sneered.
"Hey, I'm already dead. You are literally honor bound to let me be as happy as I want because, guess what? I'm dead."
"And milking that for all it's worth apparently…"
Raizel decided he was done waiting for his brother to stop dragging his feet and rushed into the building without opening the doors.
Sighing, Solomon followed him and pushed open the doors.
His nostrils were immediately hit with the smell of metal and oil.
The stone walls of the room were lined with gleaming weapons, armor, and shields.
Their luster was only rivaled by their quality. Solomon was fairly certain that nothing here was inferior to the armory of the Olethros.
"Murder on your mind early in the morning? Well, I've got just the stuff for you, lad."
Solomon saw a figure poke their head from behind one of the weapon racks.
They came around to stand in front of Solomon, and the sheer difference in size between them was comical.
"…Are you a leprechaun?"
The man with a red beard and a bandanna over his head rolled his eyes.
"Oi, he's smart and big. Won't be able to overcharge this one, now will I, laddie?"
Solomon was too baffled to be annoyed.
Leprechauns usually hide themselves because they were such highly prioritized targets for trafficking.
Their ability to miraculously turn soil into glittering gold meant that anyone who was fortunate enough to have one in their basement was going to be a very rich individual.
The mere fact that this one was operating a shop in one of the busiest cities in the world meant he was either very well protected or a powerful master in disguise.
"Yer' starin at me like you think I'm supposed to be locked away in some hidey hole. It's fucking insulting."
It could have also been that this particular individual was too unlikable for anyone to want to be around him. Solomon was leaning towards his last guess.
"I need an armor set for a troll."
The leprechaun looked him up and down.
"Planning on having a growth spurt sometime, laddie?"
"It's not for me." Solomon pulled back his hood. "It needs to have high spiritual conductivity. As high as you can get it."
The look the leprechaun gave Solomon changed with the reveal of his eyes and the gravity of his request.
"Oh… oh, I see. Hoping to dabble in a bit of necromancy..? What a naughty laddie you are-"
"Can you do it, yes or no?"
"Course I can. The question is, can you afford it?"
"Show me what you've got and we'll find out."
For a brief moment, a stalemate ensued between the two men.
Solomon thought the forge master was going to be more difficult, but finally, he wiped away any remainders of soot on his face and held out his hand.
"Sorcha." He introduced himself.
Solomon snorted at the feminine name.
"It'd be real easy to punch you in the nuts from down here."
"I apologize for my outburst."
Solomon leaned down to shake the four foot leprechaun's hand.
Sorcha didn't seem to care at all about Solomon introducing himself. Once hands were shaken, he pointed towards the very back of the shop, to a wall covered by a curtain.
"The real expensive stuff is in the back. Try not to break anything."
Given that Solomon could no longer see Raizel floating about, he assumed that his brother had already found his way into the back.
Pulling back the curtain, Solomon learned he was right when he saw the ghost sticking his head inside of a suit of armor.
"…Remind me why we're doing all this again?"
Raizel removed his head from the armor. "Well, if I'm going to help you out, I'll need a temporary body, right? Besides, all those shitty little young masters have at least a single servant with them. We won't stick out."
"Not what I meant." Solomon leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his broad chest. "I mean why are we bothering with the academy at all. What's the real reason?"
"It's the place where the gate to the realm of the Amnael will be opened. Some of Kinslayer's little acolytes make all of the preparations and we need to kill them before they start. If they haven't already."
Raizel glanced at Solomon out of the corner of his eye.
"Besides… the Academy is the very best place for someone in your situation to be. You need to build another core and start from the ground up. The good thing is, your armor will make your growth speed much faster… oh, yeah, we need to get you to be able to control it too."
Solomon shuddered at the thought of ever using his armor again. But he knew he didn't exactly have a choice.
"And how exactly do we do that?"
"There's two ways. You can figure out the armor's name, or reach the stage of silver core, and then your mind and body will be strong enough to resist it's burden and bloodlust."
Solomon blinked several times. "It's… name? Disaster?"
"Not quite, that's just the name of the Yaksha's chosen." Raizel sighed. "Remember that fake version of Rena you met? It's the amalgamation of all of the souls used to make the armor.
They have a name that they keep to themselves, and learning it makes the armor docile.
If you learn it, they won't fork over all of their power at once, but the armor will work with you to increase the output of your power as you grow. It may not seem like much, but it's the difference between hurling fireballs and mentally starting forest fires from a mile away."
Solomon whistled, clearly impressed. "Don't suppose you know the name, huh?"
"If it was that easy, I would have told you already. Even in my last life, I never figured it out." Raizel sighed.
For a moment, the two of them fell into a period of silence as Raizel continued to browse about the room and Solomon went over everything he had learned since last night.
But eventually, it seemed as though Raizel could no longer stomach the silence and dove head on into a heavy conversation instead.
"…So…. Rena, huh?" Raizel finally said.
Solomon stiffened.
"Gotta say that one surprised me a little bit. I always thought she hated… well, everyone."
The mention of Rena's fiery personality warmed and hurt Solomon in a way he could not easily explain.
"She had a hard childhood. She didn't trust people, and she didn't like incompetence. It's the kind of thing that got her mother killed."
Raizel was stunned, but didn't react. "…You two must have been quite the passionate item… I'm sorry for what happened to-"
"We weren't a couple." Solomon abruptly said.
"Brother, come on-"
"We never made things official. Neither of us wanted to complicate things with the politics of the Clan, and we didn't know how to do all of that… courtship stuff. It was enough to enjoy a few nice moments."
"…Was it really enough?"
Solomon opened his mouth, but paused.
Slowly, the answer he was going to give changed.
"No. No, it wasn't."
He wished that he would have tried.
Solomon blinked several times to regain control of himself.
He looked around the room, but he could no longer see Raizel floating around.
Just as he was about to call for him, one of the large heaps of metal lurched forward.
It was a suit of armor around nine feet tall. It's arms and legs were as thick as tree trunks, and the spikes protruding along it's body were as sharp as the best blade in the store.
It appeared to be made of a fantastical dark grey metal. Even when, his heavy body walked forward, he didn't make a single sound.
The eye sockets were filled with an intensely familiar golden glow.
When the suit of armor reached Solomon, he held out his fist without explanation.
"Everything we do from here on out will be in her memory. Let us honor her as she rests."
Solomon started to raise his fist to meet Raizel's.
"Also… we need to get you some better clothes. You look like shit." Raizel finished.
"…"
Solomon turned around without fist bumping and went to the counter to pay.