Two students died, they learned later. Just as the fourth years guessed, the single-party examinations were cancelled. First and third years marched to Halfpoint, where carriages waited. Fourth years stayed until the stationed troops returned from their leave and could be reinforced with fresh manpower, which translated into first hiring people from the Isekai adventurers guild until a new militia could be formed. Economically, it all worked out. A breach meant the carcasses were worth a lot more than those from a bleed or a gash. The sentient monsters the older students fought before the general assault sometimes carried magic items impossible to replicate this side of the border zone. They varied in value from cheap trinkets to real treasures.

  The deaths did little to dampen their sense of having achieved something, and, cynical or not, they didn’t really know the fourth years since they all lived in Schooltown and spent large parts of their studies outside of school grounds.

  Four days in carriages and three nights in barns later, they all returned to Spellsword Academy, where Ioha turned in the brigandine he wore during the assault. Despite how torn it looked, he was impressed enough to walk right to the peculiar shop where he bought his helmet, shield and broadsword, or rather Ai bought them. This time, he used his own money to purchase his own armour. He found a second-hand cuirass ordered and used by someone on the well-built side, who must have fallen in love with the school. The green colour was as eye-catching as his blazer, exactly as eye-catching. It even came with short tails that at least served as a sitting pad if he didn’t want to get his trousers dirty. For a brief moment, very brief, he eyed a pair of pauldrons and vambraces but decided against it. Rationally, they added more weight and limited movement to a degree that wasn’t worth the extra protection, but, in reality, the school uniform red was the deciding factor. He didn’t care that the awful colour combination might make an enemy puke to death before they attacked. A small hatchet made its way into his possessions as well.

  He wore all armour, put his backpack on and returned as a hugely satisfied anachronism on two legs. The cuirass narrowed above his hips and removed some of the weight from his shoulders, something that gave him a better understanding of why it looked a little like a dress. From shield to helmet, he spanned four centuries of European military development. Had his round shield been boss-gripped instead of strapped, he could have added another four centuries. As it was, shield, sword and helmet belonged to the culture he saw around him, but both gambeson and brigandine should have been obsolete if the military used the firearms associated with his own Earth from the same era. Well, they mostly didn’t, and his body armour worked perfectly well against anyone trying to put pointy things into him or carve the Shakespearean pound of flesh out of him. As for arms and legs, he’d simply extend aura shields to protect them. It was a small cost to pay compared to walking around with the extra bulk.

  Halfway to his dorm, Ioha realised he really shouldn’t know all this, so Heimdall must have known and imparted that knowledge on him. An opened status display later, he confirmed it. There was a military history ability keyed to Europe, with a perfectly decent number associated. Screw you! So the abilities manipulated his brain as well. Walking up the stairs, he didn’t care any longer. Knowledge was useful, no matter where it came from.

  He dropped his gear on his bed, stripped and gave the stand by the door a satisfied look. It had room for more weapons, but now it did indeed look like what a Hollywood-infested cosplayer with a poor understanding of history would have wanted. Full plate armour missing, of course, but that was out of the question. Some divine cleaning, utterly absurdly clean since this was a cause for celebration, later he pitied his less lucky schoolmates who had to freeze in ice-cold water not at all. After that, he dressed in his school uniform, hurried down the stairs and headed for building three. If Ai didn’t get her share of divine cleaning and found herself freezing with the others, he wouldn’t see the inside of her room for another week.

  “You’re late,” she said after he knocked on her door.

  He wasn’t. “Sorry.”

  “Uncool. I just wanted to see you.”

  Ioha walked into her hug. “Wish they’d let us return with our parties.”

  She hugged him closer. “Mm.”

  “Want to go shopping?”

  Suddenly he felt like an idiot. He should have asked if she wanted to do something together with him. “Sure. Looking for?”

  She let go of him and grabbed her own blazer. “You know the shield shop?”

  Twice an idiot. “Yes?” he croaked.

  “I, I, just tag along!”

  So it came to be that for the second time since he returned, he found himself inside the shop on the outskirts of school. The clerk shot him a surprised glance but said nothing. Something smelled differently from when he bought his sword, and Ioha had noticed it earlier. Now he couldn’t contain his curiosity.

  “Cleaned the shop while we were away?”

  The clerk shook his head. “Summer campaigns. I stocked up for the graduating students.”

  Oil, the air was heavy with the scent of oil, or maybe it was wax. Not Ioha’s area of expertise.

  “Ioha, I want something small for self-defence.“

  He looked at her. Memories of things from a horror movie thrown in her general direction floated around in his head. “To make stuff stay away or for attacking?”

  She walked around aimlessly, touching small things on display. In her head, small was probably the important part, and he could feel her confusion. “Don’t know.”

  “A short gambeson. It’s kind of like modern body armour. Think of it like a bulletproof vest.” It should protect her against teeth and claws.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Gambeson?”

  “Remember the thick dress I bought last time?” She thought it looked like a bathrobe and teased him relentlessly. “Something like it, but ending below your waist.”

  He looked at the clerk, who nodded and dove into the storage. He quickly returned with a thick linen jacket in a deep burgundy. “Would my lady want to try this?”

  Ai’s eyes met Ioha’s. He nodded, and she tried it on. A little longer than he first suggested, it reached over her buttocks and offered a semblance of protection to her groin area.

  “It doesn’t look too bad.”

  Maybe fashion played a part, even for armour. “Looks good.” He didn’t have to lie. It did. “Helmet?”

  When she nodded, he grabbed one of the dragoon helmets. Without the junk on top, it was as close to a modern combat helmet as he could get. “Covers the sides and back of your head. Allows you to hear and doesn’t make you blind.”

  “It doesn’t look very cool.”

  “Staying alive is cool.”

  “Do you have it in another colour?”

  She cares about colour?

  The clerk nodded. “Of course, my lady.”

  He caters to colour?

  “If you don’t mind natural scales?” In his hand the clerk held an open helmet that clearly wasn’t made of metal. “It’s on the expensive side, and a steel helmet still offers better protection, but it’s very lightweight.”

  It had better be. Apart from camouflage, it almost looked like a twenty-first-century helmet issued to modern armies. Just one made from what looked suspiciously like bone or horn.

  Ai took it out of his hands. She eyed it more with curiosity than distaste. “Weighs almost nothing. How much worse?” she asked and pointed at the one Ioha still held in his hands.

  “If you take a heavy blow to your head, it will protect you once. It doesn’t dent, but rather shatters at the point of impact. Same for piercing attacks.”

  “So if I don’t stick my head out twice, I’m good?”

  A thin smile prefaced the next words. “You could look at it that way, yes. You just won’t have a helmet at all later.”

  “I’ll take it. Ioha, anything more?”

  “You need your hands free, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “A magic wand would look nice, but I don’t see wands or staffs around here.” She shuddered. “OK in Isekai, but that place doesn’t count.”

  Ioha agreed. Isekai didn’t count. It came with pointy hats and all.

  “My lady, if you don’t mind. Would you want to look at a spellsword?”

  That word had both of them perk up. Spellsword had a historical meaning other than the catch-all for close-range soldiers who used magic?

  “Spellsword?” Ai asked.

  “Yes. It helps you focus your aura.”

  “Wouldn’t I want to use a wand or staff for that?”

  The clerk gave her a long stare. “Outworlders,” he murmured. “A staff is, of course, an option, but I thought my lady wanted something small.”

  Ioha followed her eyes as Ai looked around the shop. There were staves, but they were clearly designed for removing legs and bashing heads in. Something very fantasy was missing. No wands.

  “Why no wands?” she asked.

  Patience clearly competed with the wish to make another sale. Since the clerk was a professional, sales won in the end. “A wand would be rather brittle, don’t you agree?”

  Phrased like that, it made a lot of sense.

  “So, a spellsword, you said?”

  By now, both Ai and Ioha waited with anticipation. He could feel hers in her fingers.

  “Yes, a moment, please.” And off into the storage again. The clerk returned with three wooden cases. “If I may,” he said as soon as he had placed them on the counter. “If you do prefer something like a wand, I have this.” He opened the first case and showed something looking very much like a smallsword. Just like the sabre Ioha first bought, it lacked the hilt guard. “Offence only. I can’t recommend this for blocking anything.”

  Ioha looked at it. No edge, but a viciously sharp point for thrusting. He slowly shook his head, and Ai must have felt his disdain.

  “Next one?” she asked.

  It turned out to be a sai. It might be a local weapon for all Ioha knew, but he recognised the Okinawan weapon immediately.

  “And next?” Ai asked before he could comment.

  The last weapon was something he hadn’t seen before. Single-edge and pointed. Something between a long dagger and a short sword. And it was in ways also a sai. A knuckle guard facing the edge and a hook for disarming facing back.

  “My personal recommendation would be one of these,” the clerk said and moved the small sword to the side. “This,” he put his hand on the unfamiliar one, “can also be used as a knife, which could come in handy from time to time.”

  He needn’t say anything. Ioha recognised the look of greed in Ai’s face. “I think we have a winner,” he said. “Why the weapons for a caster, though? Wouldn’t just any sword do just as well?”

  The clerk shook his head. “It’s really the hilts. They contain a material that helps with aura manipulation, so in a sense, it’s hollow. Structural integrity. It takes a smith several years to learn how to at least partially overcome that problem, and in the end, these weapons are still not as strong as a solid one.”

  So, a compromise, but Ioha had to give the clerk credit for his comment on the usefulness of a thin wooden stick when someone barged in on you with something designed to make holes in the human body.

  Ai opened her bag of infinite holding, or rather her purse, and dropped an eye-watering amount of money on the counter. “You want something?” she asked and turned to him.

  “I’m good.”

  “Cool.”

  They returned en route to his room with her treasure trove, and of course, she guessed he’d done his own shopping, and he had to accept an impromptu fashion show. All five of them, the usually silent Miri included, wailed with laughter when he strutted around in his new brigandine. Ioha overflowed with divine happiness that he didn’t buy the pauldrons and vambraces.