The Silent King convulsed, made a sound like a cracked bell, and collapsed. The Brethren froze. Without their leader’s will, they were just rags and bone. The Archivist blinked at Kaelen, then at his plain gray armor, then back at his face.
Perfection is a dead end; once you reach it, there is nowhere else to go. But the "Almost"? The rough draft? The happy accident? misarmor