Butch and his Demi-god family

Butch leads them through the back gate and onto the lane, where the training yard gives way to a rutted road, hedges, and a bright slice of open sky. The smell of cut grass fades behind them. Ahead, an old shed sits by the fence line, half storage, half armory.

Sable turns back without arguing, already reaching for a stack of folded mail and a bundle of straps. Brin follows, checking buckles with quick, careful hands and glancing once toward Butch for approval.

Inside the shed, shields lean against rough beams, bedrolls hang from pegs, and packs sit in a neat row beside the door. Dust motes drift through the slanting light as the first items come down and the road kit starts to grow.

Butch takes the mail shirt from Sable and holds it open with both thick hands. Brin steps into it, shoulders tight, while Butch guides the weight down so the links sit flat instead of twisting.

He cinches the side buckles, then taps Brin's hip and chest armor into place with brisk, exact motions. The pieces stop rattling, settled close for quick movement.

Sable watches from the doorway, mail folded over one arm, as Butch shows Brin how to stack the spare cord, oilstone, and buckles where a hand can find them fast. The pack closes neatly, ready to grab without a second search.

Brin straightens in the fitted gear, testing a shoulder roll, then looks to Butch with proud, alert focus. The shed is quieter now, and the road kit stands finished beside the open door.