It's been almost eight years since you constructed the enchantment in your robes, but even though said enchantment has prevented most of the wear and tear that clothing would typically see after that much daily use, it's still come time for you to replace it. Since the time you made it you've become a better Wizard, a better Enchanter, and your knowledge of the spell Aethyric Armour specifically has evolved into an effect that shields your muscles from fatigue even as it shields your skin from blades. Unfortunately the local spider-silk industry is still mired in technical difficulties, so with the Expedition rapidly approaching and filled with the perverse certainty that every one of those technical difficulties will evaporate as soon as you complete your new robes, you settle for wool. Though you are quite pleased that you managed to get your hands on a bolt of naturally silver-grey wool, a rarity in this modern age of animal husbandry that has lead to pure-white sheep becoming the norm.
You spend some time considering the Helldrake scales that have been gathering dust ever since you acquired them on impulse in Barak Varr. The only mention of them you can find in your library is in the books on dragons, and even there more ink is spent on speculation on the nature of their relation to 'true' dragons than on their properties or inclinations. Still, the few paragraphs reveal to you that they're known primarily for being bred by the Elves of Naggaroth for war, and for such unbridled ferocity that their handlers are often unable to prevent them from attacking each other in the heat of battle. That gives you something to work with. Scales are, of course, a good fit for a component in defensive enchantment, but a nature of unflagging aggression is something you might be able to tap into for tirelessness.
[Drawing board: Learning, 10+28+5(Library: Enchantment)=43.]
That's the theory, anyway. You've come a long way since your first clumsy attempts to bind magic into permanent enchantment, and part of that is a healthy respect for planning ahead. The health of that respect begins to suffer quite a bit as every thaumaturgic equation runs right into a brick wall, as you try to put your instincts into numbers and run into mathematical insistence that what you're trying to do is impossible. Days evaporate in a blur of numbers and symbols and stacks of reference materials until you finally reach your limit and shove the stacks over in frustration.
Gentle shoves, of course, and onto rugs. Even if they are being obstinate, those books are far from cheap.
It isn't necessarily hubristic to bypass the preparations, you tell yourself. Putting magic to paper is a much less developed art than putting magic into reality. Every Magister of the Colleges is capable of a number of things that have no theoretical underpinnings proving them possible. There comes a time when a Wizard simply must put aside the books, start throwing magic around, and see what happens.
[In the workshop: 74+28+20(Room of Dawn and Dusk)+10(Enchanter)+5(Library: Enchantment)=137.]
[Integrating power stone: 48+28+20(Room of Utter Neutrality)+10(Enchanter)+2(Library: Power Stones)=108.]
[Integrating scales: 10+28+20(Room of Utter Neutrality)+10(Enchanter)+4(Library: Dragons, halved)=72.]
Success, it is said, requires no explanation. It may not be required but an explanation would be nice, you think to yourself as you're torn between pride and frustration that you couldn't even begin to put to paper why those painstaking equations were proven so thoroughly wrong by the end results. Guided by instinct and Ulgu, you've managed to rather literally weave your unique form of Aethyric Armour into your robes, anchored by the Helldrake scales you've turned into pauldrons and powered by the pearl of Crystal Mist, taking the appearance of a jewelled brooch though it's quite firmly fastened in place.
Truth be told, you're not entirely happy with the individual elements; the Crystal Mist seems to be reasonably integrated as a power source but its full potential as a lodestone of altered reality has a lot more to offer, and the scales are about as well-utilized as an atlas being used to pin down one corner of a map. But the overall effect is much greater than the sum of its parts: any mundane blade would shatter long before it could mar the weave of the robe, and a tap of the brooch extends the effect around your full body while filling your muscles with vigour. The length it lasts is frustratingly inconsistent, seeming to vary based on time of day, the level of light around you, and another variable you suspect to be the phase of the moon, but even under the worst of conditions it lasts fifteen minutes - about five times the duration of the spell cast conventionally. And you're quite pleased with the imposing touch the scales add to your silhouette.