Eight

Face still aching from the rod, he stepped out into a humid, clammy gust of storm-blown wind. He shivered in surprise at the chill it left behind and looked up and North, where heavy, dark clouds drifted toward the keep. Heavy, gray and pregnant with rain, the bank rumbled with distant thunder. And the promise that his first march would also be one under rain.

"At least the gods have humor…"

"Fall into rank and square!" The officer from before bellowed from the top of the wall. "New blood in the rear!"

It took just under fifteen minutes for the entire company to form up, eighty men divided into four squares of twenty. Each was led at the front by a line of mounted, armored knights that kept them spaced back several paces. Behind the formation, a trio of dark carriages with the blue Preying Eagle canvas pulled roughly into place behind his group. Once everyone was arranged, someone at the front blew a horn.

And the entire formation fell silent, and started to march and trot and roll on their way.

The rain found them a few hours after they started, ice cold and falling on them in coin-sized drops that stung his face when he looked up and clanged off his and the other Knight's armor with loud, echoing pangs. His gambeson was thick and kept him warm enough, but the outer layers kept the water and weighed him down. His movements grew harder, slowed by sodden clothes, and his breathing more labored as they marched along the road, back the way he'd ridden weeks before.

It was exhausting and went on for hours and hours, encouraged by mounted commanders that called out anyone who fell behind or started to lag.

Jaune would have, if he'd not been in the center of the formation, with Knights in front of him and behind him. With them effectively trapping him inside, he couldn't fall out or lag behind. When he did start to lag, the woman behind him pushed him forward and murmured her encouragement just loud enough for him to hear. So, trapped and soaked, he had no choice but to press on as best he could.

Gods help him…

Finally, as the light began to truly fade, the same horn from before blew and the company came to a stop. Jaune found a place to collapse while the Knights around him chuckled and the mounted Knights moved off, forming a sort of perimeter to keep watch while the footmen rested and the carriages came in. Chastened climbed out of them and set to work quickly and quietly, setting up camp and erecting several tall, wooden panels set up on thick metal rods that covered up the fires they were working to set.

"Up, Arc." He flinched and staggered up as one of the mounted men came close to him. Quietly, the rider grunted, "Newbloods are to help the Chastened set the camp. See to it."

"R-Right…"

"Set up ten tents, then you may rest." The rider snapped and turned his horse, trotting off while Jaune groaned and turned to do his job.

Part of him wondered how they could do this to nobles. Surely they'd be put off by it, at least?

The other part though was happy not to be treated differently. Like a thing that he wasn't. It was… Well, it sucked.

But it was also nice, not to be treated any differently.

"My Lord." He turned at the familiar voice, one hand wrapped around the folded cloth mass of a packaged tent he had been pointed to by a timid but helpful Chastened. Deery smiled, cocked her head, and asked, "New blood hazing?"

"I guess?" He grunted, set his shield in the carriage, prayed no one would care, and used both hands to haul the package out. It clanked with the sound of metal and he asked, "Is this just a whole tent all folded up?"

"It is." She nodded and set the pot in her hands on the step up onto the steerage seat. "Would you like to be shown how to assemble it?"

"If that won't, you know, take you from your jobs…"

"These are the Chastened's duties, not necessarily mine." She explained shortly, gesturing at the pot with a hand and smiling thinly, but warmly in spite of the conversation and the rain both. Then she laid her hands on the collapsed rough oval of the tent-in-the-making and tugged it onto her shoulder with a grunt. "But I am yours, Lord Arc. Your needs come before all else, so in all things, you need only call on me."

"In all things, eh?"

"Perhaps not a skirmish," she smiled, "but generally, yes. Now, shall we?"

"Yeah." He nodded, "Thanks."

"You don't need to thank me…"

"No." He smiled. "I don't."

The tents were rectangular, and large enough for two to lay in, with sides that sloped under the weight of the thick cloth that made its walls and the rain pattering down on it. Each corner was held up by a long, thick rod of iron that they punched into the ground. Three long cables ran out from the top of the rods, pulling it taut and holding it firm with the help of long spikes embedded into the ground. Inside, the tents had thick cloth bottoms that rested on the ground, and Deery came over with a pair of bedrolls she laid out to either side of the entrance.

With Deery's help, they set up ten tents as ordered, erected in two groups of five circled around the sheltered fires other Chastened had built.

More Chastened trailed in behind them, toting along weathered old trunks and boxes they set inside the tents. When they left, Knights came, slipping into their tents wearily and, by the shadows of the Dust-lights inside, sliding off the larger sections of their armor before turning in for rest. A few Knights paused to thank him, though such was rarely more than a grunt, but most simply slid into bed.

And none paused to thank Deery.

He was thankful for the rain on seeing that… It cooled the fire in his blood.

Finally, exhausted and soaked, he slid into the tent Deery directed him to. She joined him, helped him out of the heavier parts of his armor, and turned to take the food another Chastened offered through the tent-flap. It was a simple bowl of stewed potatoes and pork, but aching in every one of his bones and freezing in spite of the fire outside, it smelled wonderful and felt as hot as a raging furnace.

Gods, it was a miracle unto itself…

"The horn will sound at sun-rise for tomorrow's march." Deery explained, sitting on the other bedroll with her legs folded under herself. He nodded while he ate and she smiled as she rolled forward onto her knees and stood, hunched over for the low roof, and turned for the door, "I will come to help you back into your armor as quickly as I can. But for now, you should eat and rest."

"Yeah." He sighed, "Marching is… Fun."

"Such is the life of a young Knight." She chuckled, lingering with one hand on the tent flap and turning to pay him a smile. "You have my faith, though. Of all those here, I believe you will do something grand. You need only stay strong."

"Yeah." He nodded, "I will."

Nicholas would never forgive him, otherwise… And now, he had to see to Deery, too. What would happen if he died, after all?

Nothing good, surely…

"Good night, Lord."

He looked up, smiled, and nodded, "Good night, Deery."

XxX----XxX----XxX

What had been only a day's ride, from the intersection of the Wayward and the Weary to the mountain fortress, turned into three days marching on the roads. They spent just around an hour each morning eating, cleaning up the camp-sites and reloading the wagons, and then were on their way until noon when they stopped for half an hour of rest, water and a light meal of bread and dried meats. Then, as the sun set they stopped for the night, set up camp, and settled in.

It was painfully slow…

And by the gods, his feet despised him for it all.

They came into the settlement just past noon, and after their stop for food and water, so they didn't linger. Instead, they simply marched through, turning south on the road, back the way Jaune had been escorted by the Emerald Path weeks before. It was strangely surreal, to be heading back that way surrounded by a small army of armored men and women heading off for battle.

He could only wonder if Port would be proud, seeing him now.

And if Nicholas was satisfied…

A shiver of cold wind from the dark clouds overhead, still lingering, pregnant and gray, but withholding their burden for now, told him that it was too early to hope for that. He was only a foot soldier, and barely even that. But he was on his way, and for now, that was enough.

It had to be...

He could only hope.

As they passed through the settlement, workers, waitresses, travelers, and even Chastened in their simple work robes and glinting metal collars came out to watch. Some talked amongst themselves, while others called out to the passing knights with praise and encouragement. A few merchants even walked alongside the mounted knights, hefting baskets of wares Jaune couldn't make out past the heads of his fellows. Aside from one younger man hefting an arm-ful of glinting silver and gold chains that one of the knights actually reached out to take, dropping a fistful of coins into the man's hands as he walked alongside the horse.

It was strange…

"Arc." A knight behind him hissed quietly. Cardin? The voice sounded about right, but it was quieter and intermingled with the jostling of metal and the crowd around them.

"Y-Yeah…?"

"Raise your shield." Cardin - the voice was even more recognizable now that he wa spaying attention to it - said. "Let them see your crest."

"Is that alright…?"

"Of course it is." Cardin hissed back, "Trust me, Brother."

Jaune grimaced and hesitated for the briefest, nervous moment to chew on his lip. They were supposed to stay quiet, and in formation. That's what they'd been told every morning since leaving. But Cardin said it was fine, so… Quickly, before he could overthink it, Jaune raised his shield as high up as he could.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then someone, somewhere, shouted, "That's the Arc crest!"

And suddenly the crowd was even louder, cheering excitedly, and Jaune could see faces split in wide, eager smiles. A few parents hefted their children suddenly, pointing at his section, and Jaune felt his face flood with heat as his shield came down and hung at his side. But the excitement didn't stop, and soon, there was a cheer going up as they marched. 'Arc, Arc!' A few chanted the name of the Order, too, but the loudest was the name of 'Arc'.

They were chanting for him…

Chanting for a lie.

But it was one he'd make into the truth, and so he raised his shield again, pumping it in the air excitedly. That made the cheers grow even louder, echoing from behind him as they left the little settlement behind. It was so strange, to be cheered for…

Stranger still, when all he'd done was raise his shield.

'The Arc name is important' he'd been told, and apparently, that was true…

Gods, the weight of it all settling on his shoulders made his head start to spin. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to ward it off. Then, as if sent down from on high to help him take his mind away from such thoughts, and now they were out of the settlement, he heard the first heavy plat of a rain-drop coming down on a metal helmet. Then another, and another, and then suddenly five at once. Finally, the whole sky came open, pouring out what felt like an ocean's worth of water as they trudged along under the weight of the down-pour.

It lasted all afternoon and into the evening, not even letting up when they worked to set up camp. Deery came to help, as ever, and they were halfway through his fourth tent when a mounted knight rode over to him and snapped, "Arc."

"Y-Yes?" He turned, kneeling in the mud with his hammer in his hand and the other wrapped around one of the cable-bound spikes that held up the tent's corner.

"What was that business earlier?" He demanded hotly, "You broke decorum."

"I-I was just-"

"It was my suggestion, sir." Cardin appeared out of nowhere, slipping around a tent and paying Jaune a curt nod as he approached. Where he'd come from, Jaune had no idea, but there he was standing over him and explaining, "With Lord Nicholas' passing, I believe the peasants needed to be reassured that the Arcs hadn't been lost with him."

"The proclamation about his death hasn't been spread beyond the Order as yet, Winchester." The mounted knight argued, ignoring Jaune's shocked grunt as he rose and turned to him, brows knitting together in confusion, "Now there will be questions. Questions leading to answers that will only disturb the peasants."

"With respect-"

"Why is it when anyone ever says 'with respect' they always lack any respect at all?"

"With respect, the rumors already abound about Lord Nicholas' passing." Cardin argued quietly, "The peasantry already knows, as does the nobility and the capital. It was all only a matter of time. Now, they know the Arc line stands strong even now. Questions there will be, but we can focus them onto that fact. That relief."

"Rather than the disastrous massacre…" The mounted knight growled, shook his head and pointed at Cardin, "You're a lesser noble, Winchester. Remember that and next time, you run your plan by your betters. Am I understood?"

"Yes."

"Good man. And a good plan…" The knight admitted it like his teeth were being pulled. Then he turned his horse and grunted, "You're to take over Arc's tent setting for the next three days. Understood?"

"Yes, Lord."

"Good." The man huffed and turned his horse, trudging off heavily to join a few other horses near the carriages where he dismounted and moved away, looking for his tent. Jaune lost sight of him in the rain after a moment and turned unsurely towards Cardin.

"Well," the man huffed and turned, holding out a hand for his hammer, "I suppose I better get to it."

"I got this one." He waved him off and pointed to the last of the three embedding spikes, "You can start there, I guess."

"You don't have to help me."

"No." He smiled roguishly, "I don't."

"Puckish little bastard, aren't you, Lord Arc?" Cardin grunted and shook his head, but he turned and knelt to work on the ther spike without much complaint. He lacked a hammer, but the armored bottom of his fist seemed enough for the powerful man, and Jaune left him to it. After a moment, though, he offered, "Sorry to pull you in like that."

"What?"

"Without you knowing what I was doing, I mean." He explained, "It wasn't a, you know… Planned thing. But I just thought it up, while we were marching through, and…"

"It helped, right?"

"You saw 'em." He countered easily, waving a hand at him before curling it into a fist and bringing it down on the rod. "Didn't you? Seeing that put a light in the whole settlement. They were cheering and happy."

"Yeah…"

"That's half our job." Cardin went on quietly, voice muted by the heavy rain. "Making the people feel safe keeps the Grimm at bay."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Why?"

"I…" Cardin froze, "I'm not sure, actually."

"They're lured by dark emotions." A quiet, feminine voice said as Deery came to his side, a spare hammer in her hand. Cardin stiffened and turned to look at her, but she only held the hammer out, smiled, and went on, "On Menagerie, the scholars told such. Hate, anger, fear, pain, it all lures them in. All the dark emotions. Even they don't know why, but that is what they observed."

"Uh huh…" Cardin hummed, flicked a look at Jaune and then, when he only narrowed his eyes, sighed and took the hammer. He didn't thank her, though. He just turned back to his work and grunted, "Makes sense, I s'pose. I've seen Grimm go for anyone in the line that looked scared. Figured they could tell, but…"

"Who knows, really." Jaune shrugged, "But either way, making people happier, making them feel safer… It's gotta be good, right?"

"Yeah." Cardin nodded and stood, his spike buried deep in the soil now. "Gotta be good, even if that's the end of it."

"Yeah, so…" Jaune rose, "Onto the next one then?"

"Onto the next one."