It felt too light for the brutality of combat, though Bellamus knew the Anakim did not suffer equipment that was just for show. War was their business and if this battle helm felt light in his hands, that was no more than a demonstration of how little he knew. He tried it on: much too large for his head. “Unthank-silver, lord?” “I’m not a lord,” said Bellamus to the horse-master. “Just a commoner, like you. It’s the alloy that Anakim make their swords from. Can’t say I know how it’s made but I hear that when two Unthank-weapons meet in combat, they shed white sparks like a blacksmith’s anvil.
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