~Ch 3 Extreme Metty Makeover~
"What!?" King Galid exclaimed, "They're planning for war against us? Because of that ship?!"
"Yes your majesty."
"Th-then we must act with haste! I want my army mustered and ready in three days and I want a ship with a ready escort to take my daughter safely to Tear Star." King Galid ordered.
"Your majesty? Would it please you if I joined the escort?" Meta offered. They had been eating dinner when the messenger came in with the news.
"Yes, in fact, I was going to ask you anyways!" the King exclaimed.
"I'm honored your majesty!" Meta replied in shock.
The King laughed, "Well said young knight, I want you ready by 7:30 tomorrow in the morning, sword polished, cloths washed, bag packed, and bathed. Understood?"
"Yessir!" Meta said.
"Good, well let's not hinder this delicious meal any longer!" he said cheerfully, "Let's eat!"
When dinner was through, they departed to their rooms. Everyone was anxious to prepare for the upcoming event tomorrow.
Meta grabbed his sword and his polishing kit and rushed to the library. He sat in a huge red chair next to the fireplace and began smearing the oily substance all over Sighta. He then took a hot rag and smeared it off. Next, he took a wool cloth to wipe away all the excess and to wipe of the handle. Lastly he took a silk cloth and polished the blade till it seemed invisible from the clear reflection of it's surroundings. Sighta glistened in the firelight as did Meta's eyes. It was as if the two were speaking to one another in some unknown tongue.
"You have a strange way of polishing your sword…"
Startled Meta jumped up.
"Sit down friend, I mean no harm," a gentle voice said, "I'd simply like to talk with you."
"Forgive me." Meta said apologetically, "May I ask whom I'm speaking with?"
A figure emerged from the shadows, showing a wise and noble face.
"My name is Sir Randal," he said warmly, "I'm joining you on the escort tomorrow."
"I am honored to meet you Sir Randal," Meta replied smiling slightly.
"You must be the infamous Meta Knight!" Sir Randal said, "And I look forward to traveling with you!"
Meta smiled, "And I with you."
"This journey is sure to be perilous. I need to know that you will not run and abandon us in the face of fear." He said sternly.
"You have my word," Meta said. His eyes glistened brightly practically lighting the room.
"Arg! Turn your eyes off!" Sir Randal growled as he backed away from the bright light.
"Sorry," Meta said anxiously, "Please forgive me, my eyes have a mind of their own."
"It's fine, but it won't be if we're on the battle field! Especially if you're trying to stay unseen." Sir Randal said and looked at him thoughtfully, "Why don't you come with me?"
Randal led Meta to the 2nd floor to a room filled with weapons and different kinds of armor. Shelves full of brilliant attire and weapons lined the walls. Barrels stuffed with spears and javelins, racks of swords, and suits of armor covered every corner of the entire area. In the back corner some smiths were busy at work sharpening and welding weapons and such. Meta soaked it all in like a child at its first festival. He marveled at all the elaborate and majestic designs. It was all too wonderful.
"Welcome to the armory! Where we equip our members with the best armor in the kingdom! And of course you are now a member, being a knight and all." Randal enlightened Meta, "Now let's see if we can't fix this er-problem of ours shall we?"
He brought Meta Knight over to a glass case full of masks, helmets, and other types of various head gear.
"How bout' this one?" Randal held up an elaborate gold helmet with a bright green feather. Meta tried it on but it was so heavy that it nearly made him fall over.
"I think I'll need something a tad lighter." Meta stated the obvious.
"I think you're right," Randal said. He stroked his beard, "Try this one."
Meta put it on. It didn't fit him at all. It was more oval than circular. He handed it to Randal."
"I don't think this will work either." Meta sighed.
"Perhaps we need something other than head gear," he said. He stood deep in thought for a moment or two. Meta looked at him curiously.
"I think I might have the perfect solution for you," Randal finally said, "Come with me."
They walked past the smiths' work area to an iron door. The door was to what appeared to be a storage room. Random nic-nacks and garbage were scattered along the shelves along with some other useless items. But something glistened that caught Meta's eye. It was a strange suit of armor. Randal approached it.
"This is an old suit of armor I got from a Borbian Smith. I saved him from the jaws of a giant Sythin and this was his way of thanking me," Randal said as he looked off back in his memory, "Try it on."
It fit perfectly! The armor was made up of a helmet, spauldors, chain mail, and a yellow cloth that rapped around his mouth. He placed the helmet upon his head, it fit his head faultlessly. It covered the top half of his eyes as it shifted down to a V. He pulled on the chain mail shirt and shifted under its weight. It ended just below his mouth. Then he took the cloth and tied it to either side of his helmet so that it covered the the lower half of his eyes. It eliminated much of his eye's bright light, enough that it was dimmed and less noticeable. Lastly he strapped on the long sharp spauldors.
"How does it feel?" Sir Randal queried.
"It's flawless!" Meta said excitedly, "It moves with me!"
"I see that." Sir Randal said as one of his eyebrows raised, "Let's just hope it 'moves' on the battlefield as flawlessly as you say. By the way, may I see your sword?"
"Yes sir." Meta said as he unsheathed Sighta from her scabbard and hesitated before giving her cautiously to him. Sighta was a beautiful silver blade which pointed up straight forward like an acute triangle with a black handle made of iron holding it at its base.
"This is an interesting blade. Simple yet deadly." Randal spoke as he examined the individuality of Meta's sword.
"It was my father's, or so I was told." Meta explained to Randal who looked at him in curiosity, "He hailed from the East Lands."
"So it seems. But it's silver. Normally they cover their blades with copper or gold. Interesting."
Randal ran one finger across the blade, he looked at Meta a question was obviously nagging him in his mind. "How long has it been since it was last sharpened?"
Meta stared at him blankly.
"GO! Take it to the smith and pic it up tomorrow in the morning before we depart. Now go to bed before it's too late to shut your eyes! We got a big day ahead of us tomorrow and an even longer journey. Now polish up!"