That said, he opened his coffin and checked its interior, judging it. He supposed if he didn’t put on the pauldrons, he could remove the limit on his arms and lie in it in his armour, even fix his new cloak about him without looking ridiculous, although his breastplate and the remainder of his cuirass could probably stay in their own boxes. When he got out of the coffin, he wanted to be ready for anything. He felt naked without it, less… in control of himself. He shook it off. The last thing he needed was another psychological dependency.