"Does it fit you well?" Lord Prestonheim asked Servus 132-X as he donned his armor and gears. The rain started to mellow outside, and it looked like both men cannot wait to get the expedition going.

Servus 132-X felt the cold boiled leather of his skin. His tattered clothes made it difficult to wear the armor, so he had to remove his upper garments. It was a snug fit! He moved around with the armor, to see if there were any restrictions to his movement—there was none.

He then wore the leather footwraps. It felt weird especially because he had been barefooted for the longest time. He moved it around as well. He tiptoed, jumped and squatted while wearing the foot wraps and it turned out fine.

He strapped the buckler into his left arm. He shook it a bit to make sure it stayed in place. He strapped his gladius as well, placing it on his left hip so he can access it better when needed. He properly secured the satchel to make sure the runes do not fall out from it.

Everything he did up to this point of donning the armor was just standard procedure. He knew this because he had done this during his past 364 lifetimes. Sure, each armor was uniquely different from each other. He wore the best of them which saved his life for more than one occasion. He also wore the worst of them, which cut his adventure short.

If he were to rate the armor and gears; he was given, it would be mediocre to the ones he had worn before. Compared to an armor like Satabar Scales which he wore during his third incarnation, this was by far basic.

The boiled leather armor wasn't imbued with magic of any sort. It cannot reflect dragon fire, poison or any physical attacks back to the assailant. It cannot create or summon batwings for him to fly away from danger, nor enhance his strength. It was as basic as it could get.

But he never cared for it as much. He was already contented with the fact that Lord Prestonheim cared to at least provide him some protection regardless of how meager it was. After all, in this lifetime he could only have a few choices and chances that he can get by and survive. Therefore, being grateful was the key. That's a slave's life—a life he wanted to get out from.

He turned around to Lord Prestonheim who looked puzzled, "My Lord, everything fits perfectly well! Thank you for generosity! He bowed at the Commander but still could not shake off the old man's expression. "Is there anything on your mind my Lord?" He asked.

Lord Prestonheim approached and walked around him with his thumb anchored on his chin. He inspected the armor closely, checking if the straps and belts were well buckled. When he was satisfied with it, he faced Servus 132-X grabbed his armor by the chest and started to yank it. When the armor held its place, the Commander smiled and patted the slave's shoulder.

"Are you sure you're a slave?" Lord Prestonheim broke his silence. "I was supposed to instruct you on how to don the armor, but I was blown away by how quick and efficient you were to wear it! You even made a double lock on the strap at side! Only veterans knew how to do that!" He started pacing again.

"So, how did you?" The baffled Commander asked Servus 132-X while pointing a finger at him.

"I observed the men from the barracks my Lord," Servus 132-X lied.

"Obs-observed?!" Lord Prestonheim guffawed. "I tell you what, son. If it wasn't for your census registry, I could've sworn to have killed you already! The way you handled the sword and the way you wore your armor, that's not a slave doing it. Where you a soldier in your past life?"

The question made Servus 132-X heart dropped to his stomach. "Did the Commander knew? Does this world have a reincarnation system? Do they have a transmigrated hero here?" The thoughts flooded his mind.

He began to feel uneasy, for a lot of reasons. There was a world he had been to before that strongly hated transmigrated people. It was at his 169th incarnation. He almost died saving that world because the people themselves were hunting transmigrators and had to do all sort of lies and tricks not to be caught.

Lord Prestonheim placed his hand on his shoulder and stared at him intently. Servus 132-X's cold sweat rolled from his forehead. He had no intention of sharing that information with the Commander. His hands felt cold and sweaty, and his throat started to parch.

The old Commander patted his shoulder and said, "That is impossible! In this age of reason, that kind of magic doesn't exist. You're not a spy, are you?"

"A-a spy?" There was an odd sense of relief when he heard it. But does it make it worse than it already was? Thinking about it, Servus 132-X realized being branded a spy will get him killed.

Lord Prestonheim saw the poor slave on his batted breath, trying to digest everything he said. "Relax Servus 132-X, it was a just a jest. Again, I've seen your census record, you are just an odd man to become a slave with that intellect of yours."

Servus 132-X sighed in relief and smiled awkwardly to Lord Prestonheim.

The Commander let out another booming laughter before changing the mood into something more serious.

"Servus 132-X," Lord Prestonheim began, "Come back in one piece and alive. Once you do, I will welcome you into my ranks."

The slave went speechless. Servus 132-X was honored with the Commander's generous offer. Of course, he should. If he pulled this off, they would become free men. But rather than get it over his head, Servus 132-X chose to part it for now.

"That's a generous offer, my Lord." He tried finding his words as to not to offend the Commander. "But, if it's alright, can I answer that later once I return?"

Lord Prestonheim paused for a moment and laughed. "Of course! Why am I putting too many things in your head right now? Alright…umm… just focus on the task and come back alive, son." The Commander smiled.

"S-son…" Servus 132-X whispered to himself.

Tristam returned into the tent bearing a big smile on his face. "My Lord, the preparations are done, and the gods have indeed smiled at us, the rain has stopped."

Lord Prestonheim smiled at the young knight and nodded. "Gods be praise!" He then looked at Servus 132-X who stood there focused to the task ahead. "Are you ready, Sevus 132-X?"

Servus 132-X was afraid but calmed his nerves and focused on the future he will pave for his comrades. "My Lord, I am ready. But can I make a request?"

Lord Prestonheim looked at him intently, "What is your request?"

"I-I want my comrades to be the ones to operate the pullies. And I want them to be the ones to stand vigil for me alongside your men." Servus 132-X hesitantly said it. He hoped it wouldn't come up as an insult to the Commander, but he had more confidence in his comrades assisting him than the knights who look down on them.

The Commander nodded at him, "Granted. Tristam, gather his comrades at the burrow and instruct them on how to use the pullies."

"You are too kind, my Lord." Servus 132-X bowed.

"I know what you're thinking, Servus 132-X and I understand how the other knights felt about this arrangement. So, I will grant you that!"

After that short conversation, they started the grueling march towards the dreaded burrow.

Servus 132-X noticed the knights' faces as he walked past them. Some looked in disgust, others spat to the ground while the rest never seemed to care. In their mind, they might've been wishing he dies there in that dark void. It could be just him imagining things.

The closer they were to the burrow, the heavier dread Servus 132-X started to feel. He focused himself to not feel the way he did. He focused on his goal, on his dreams and his comrades' wishes and hopes.

"We are here." Tristam announced.

The burrow wasn't that far from the camp, but it felt like an ildwyrm away. But when he arrived, it felt like a fleeting moment.

Servus 132-X took a deep breath and bowed to Lord Prestonheim and Tristam. He walked forward towards his comrades who waited for him by the opening.

"Servus 132-X, halt!" Lord Prestonheim commanded. "Stay where you are, I am still waiting for one more item."

"Another item?" Servus 132-X asked as the sun finally showed its beautiful glow on them and the gray ground.