It was unlikely such an event would have happened during such a fragile time, but it did. While Tern had both the robes and armor, Bardur had the 'hide, Ofrak, in every meaning of the word, was distressed.
It had been days since the honored Sage had departed from his humble home, and he had already started to return. On his way back, his 120 years of life had almost ended. At a strange intersection he hadn't noticed the first time around, an unmistakable figure appeared. At first, it was nothing but a shadow was in his way. But, as time progressed, the figure's slow movement and metallic appearance proved to be the one and only Bardur.
He was dodging Ofrak's most powerful spells – only occasionally getting hit by a smoke blitz or two – yet was wounded. Not severely, but just enough to not be in touch with is senses. This near-death encounter had left him shaken, as Ofrak had given up after a burning treasure was gained.
Bardur returned almost unscathed to the Regime, and only then had he checked his pack. It seemed as though a great weight was lifted, though perhaps it was just one of Ofrak's simple mind tricks—
The dragonhide was gone.
Bardur couldn't believe it. In his state of panic, Ofrak snagged the 'hide from his pack. Curse his telegrabbing spell! He wouldn't stand for this. He had to have a trophy of battle to prove his bravery, his skill; his power. He had to set out on a quest similar in no way to the one he had just embarked on. The Sect housed both the robes along with the armor, and the Mages held the dragonhide. Things were not working out as planned…
Much, much later, after many long hours of negotiating, he got into the Ranged Sect. Even Tern had no suspicions to what he was planning. All he had to do was to get into the Sect Vault, and he would basically be home free. He would have his trophy.
Sitting at Tern's table, the Master of the Regime was nothing short of uneasy. This, Tern noticed. He was sure something was up, but not quite what. Bardur had no ready access to the Vault, unless...
Noise. Blaring, shouting, screaming noise. A breach in the Vault was nothing but evident. Tern was right – Bardur was stealing the armor. He had to already be far enough to have evaded the tower-defenders, or the sirens would have stopped, signaling victory. Yet they still sounded with deafening power.
Bardur ran full-speed from his chasers, despite the fact he was being weighed down by an incalculable weight. No arrow had pierced his sturdy armor – and it was this that disturbed him. Again, this was WAY too easy.
He was welcomed back at his Regime minutes later.
Another disappointment.