"Your armour is majestic," Maelon's voice was rich with admiration. It was understandable - last year, Jon had reforged every piece of plate and painstakingly added intricate details and inscriptions under his wife's insistence - the king could not wear plain armour as if he was some simple hedge knight. "Even the Qohoric masters cannot imbue such a deep black into the metal that seemingly swallows sunlight, nor such detailed a heraldry like the Direwolf or the intricate runes and designs. Is it truly...."