Twelve

Jaune woke up to the earthy scents of grain, soil and fertile earth. Grunting, he rolled over and raised a fist that his tent-partner, Cardin, bumped his own into in a mutually groggy greeting. They dressed in silence, and then helped each other into their armor, clicking the trickiest, hardest to reach clasps together along each of their sides and arms and then turning to their own boots in a sort of dance that lasted about five minutes. Finally ready, they peeled back their tent's flap and found a tray of hot food, baked bread with salted pork and a bowl of richly seasoned beans, waiting for them.

Jaune pulled it in and handed Cardin's share to him before returning to his bedroll to sit and eat.

The man rolled his shoulders and sipped at the flask of water by his bedroll, and then grunted, "Thanks."

"Mhm." The first bite of the salted pork dipped in the beans was near enough to heaven that he couldn't help but sigh. The beans were spiced with pepper and something warm he couldn't place, with small bits of onion and corn mixed in. "When did they start giving us this?"

"They didn't." Cardin grunted, spooning his own beans up and grunting around his food, "S'the village."

"Patch?"

"Mhm." Cardin swallowed, "Custom is, you feed Knights when they come in to rest. Makes their rations last longer, and if something happens, they'll have more energy to protect you."

"That makes sense, yeah…" So if they'd gone to Ansel in time, they'd have been fed like this, too. But probably something else, something unique to them. Jaune thought of old Martha's cream-cookies, and Sander's roasted venison wraps, and his mouth watered.

Almost as much as his heart ached…

"Hey." Cardin grunted, and when Jaune looked up, he pointed a long, gloved finger at him. "I see that. Get outta your head."

"I wasn't-"

"Arc." Winchester warned him, "Don't try and lie to me. I know that look."

"Yeah…" Looking for a deflection, any kind of deflection, he asked, "How do you know it so well, then?"

"How do I…" Cardin paused mid-bite, pork hanging just outside his mouth and eyes locked on Jaune's as he processed the question. And then, suddenly, he sighed and dropped the pork onto his plate. He gave Jaune a look, then turned to stare at the ground, and then looked back at him like he was trying to say something.

But… Couldn't, almost as though something were blocking him.

"You don't have to-"

"No." Cardin grunted, cutting him off with a raised hand. He sat his food aside and clasped his hands, then, and sighed. "I don't, but… I bloodied you, before, because of this. And of everyone that means you have a right to know."

"Only if you want me to." Jaune murmured, suddenly feeling… Awkward and anxious. Like he'd walked in on Port speaking to one of the more important people around Ansel, about things he wasn't meant to know, and Port had pressed him into the meeting anyway.

Out of place, in short, and about to learn something important.

"I've been a Knight for three years, now." Cardin started quietly, staring at the floor and idly twisted one of his thumbs around another, then unwrapping it and doing it again in a different way. "My first outing wasn't against the Grimm, though. We were called out to the coast, to contend with a serious offensive from Mistal."

"I remember that." Jaune murmured, "Ansel had to give up a lot of its harvest to feed the soldiers passing through…"

"A hard time." Cardin murmured, "I was dispatched under my father, with Dove. And my other friends, from allied lines to mine. Russel and Sky. Brothers by pact, and creed. We made it to the coast and found signs of the raiders. Sacked villages, burnt tracks of forest, bodies… But the raiders themselves? On the wind."

"But the area was rocky, with sheer cliffs and shallow seas out for hundreds of feet. Too treacherous for most natives to dare, much less foreign animals with no ken of the land." Cardin went on, "So it was decided, we would split. A thousand men and women into nine groups, eight to march and one of two hundred to sit in the center and wait. A spider in its web, searching for prey."

"A good plan…" But he sensed there was a turn, coming.

And sure enough, Cardin grimaced.

"Yeah… It would have been." He sighed, tired all of a sudden, and said, "Seven of our groups came back that night. We knew it had to be raiders and seven went out, searching for the lost patrol. Only six came back then. But our captain pressed us on, honor dictated that we couldn't turn back. The groups went back out the next day, and…"

"We were passing along a cliff." Cardin went on, "Woods to one side, so we kept our best fighters there. Our best warriors. But instead… Instead, they came up from over the lip of the cliff. Like monsters. They were in our rangers and our cavalry before I understood what was happening. Russel was among them, a ranger, and Sky was a cavalryman thanks to his father. We lost damn near our entire unit, before we managed to beat them back. Or before they fell back to regroup, who knows…"

"I found Sky on the ground." Cardin murmured, "His horse had been killed, and he'd been pinned. They carved his throat out. Pinned spikes through his hands and carved his damn throat out. Russel we never even found, I still don't know what happened to him."

"You never found any of the missing Knights?"

"We did." He answered quietly, sounding almost… Shaken, before he went on, even more quietly, "They left them in the forest, lined up and stacked up. We found 'em weeks later when someone noticed how many wolves there were prowling about. We sent out scouts, more to keep our horses safe than anything, and… Found 'em. Stripped and laid out, like I said."

"Gods, Cardin…" It was a bleak story, the kind that made his food taste foul, and explained a lot. He was always easy to anger when Deery was around, and he was always quiet when he wasn't angry. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

"Mhm." Cardin grunted, "I'm more sorry I couldn't have taken their place."

"Cardin-"

"Oh, don't give me the song and dance." He sighed and waved Jaune off, picking up his tray and ripping off a bite of the pork as though none of what he'd just said bothered him in the least. "I'm not on some blood-debt, die with honor, grind, Arc. What I mean is that my damn job is bein' the shield. I hold the enemy. I protect the men behind me, beside me. I should be the one that dies, not any o' them."

"Oh…" He blinked, somewhat comforted by the idea, and finally nodded. "I get that, I think. It's our job, right?"

"My job." Cardin corrected, "I'm a man of the fray for life. You, though? An Arc leads. He doesn't follow."

"Is that right…?"

"Mhm." Cardin grunted as he shoved the pork into his mouth and tucked into the bread, "You last a few more battles, they'll give you a noble title. A line command at least. But an Arc? Probably a cohort of your own. The Red Tide will probably hand you some of the men and women here, in fact."

"Red Tide?"

"The Captain." Cardin grunted, miming stroking an invisible beard and grunting, "He's an old hand. Liable to turn to teaching, soon. If he lives."

"Huh…" And they were going to give Jaune some of his men? "That's a terrible idea."

"Teaching?" Cardin murmured, confused, "He's not an idiot, Brother. He can teach."

"No, I mean… T-The other thing." Cardin's brows furrowed and he cocked his head, and Jaune sighed, "Me leading a cohort."

"Ah." Cardin shrugged, "You are a noble."

"Yeah, but… Well, I mean…." Before Jaune could put his thoughts into words, or even sort them out, he heard the calling horn sound, five long, carried notes, thrumming and clear. A call to drill and train.

For once, he was happy for it.

It would be a good distraction, for the both of them, he was sure.

XxX----XxX----XxX

Jaune's shield snapped up to catch the sword thrust of his sparring partner and he turned it, throwing the momentum off to the side and off-balancing her. The woman stumbled forward, surprised, and caught the thrust of his training sword in the sternum. It drove the wind out of her and let him force her back a pace, to the edge of the circle drawn out in the dirt. But she didn't stumble out, instead she hurled her shield at him and, while it was between them and he was surprised, she took her sword in two hands and came in swinging for his head.

He ducked it and backed away, then ducked to the side and circled when she brought the sword around and up, recovering from her miss and bringing it down. That missed too and he twisted on a heel, rapping a short, quick, light strike against the side of her head to startle her and then, when she flinched, he stepped in and brought his shield into her gut. The blow drove the wind out of her again and this time, he capitalized before she could think. Leveraging the shield he snarled and rushed into her, throwing her onto the dirt floor. When she tried to thrust her sword up, his rapped her on the forearm to deflect it and then he rapped it across her visor.

Finally, she flopped in the dirt and grunted, "Yield."

"Heard." He grunted and sank to the ground, heaving for breath and covered in sweat. "Gods awake, you just don't give in…"

"And you're a turtle." She snapped back, "Always hiding behind your shell. But Gods take me if I dare to try and come for you…"

"Defensive means I don't die." She murmured a curse at him and he chuckled, turning his head and raising his voice. "Deery! Water!"

The Chastened materialized inside a second, kneeling between both their heads with a trio of water-skins slung along her back. She handed him one of them and then reached for his partner's arms and paused, waiting for permission to touch her. When she nodded, curt and quiet now, Deery helped her sit up and lifted a waterskin to her mouth to help her drink. Winded and exhausted, the woman didn't begrudge the help.

It was hard to reconcile the Chastened he knew with Cardin's story. She seemed far too kind, too gentle, to be related to those monsters. But then he looked at the silver-haired Knight he'd been sparring with as she pulled off her helmet and turned, snatching the waterskin from his Chastened's hand to wash her head off with the cool water. She was just as pretty and young as Deery, but he'd just fought her. And she'd been vicious.

So had he…

"Arc!" A man's voice dragged him out of his reverie and he shot to his feet, stumbling and almost falling before Deery caught him and pushed him back up. Embarrassed, he turned to the red-haired Knight who only chuckled and turned, jerking his head for Jaune to follow. "Come."

"Yes, Sir."

The man lead him around towards the gate into Patch and spoke as they went, "Don't feel bad 'bout stumbling. Exhaustion will do that, and you lot have been drilling and sparring for hours now."

"Yes, Sir…"

"And cut the 'Sir' for now, Lord Arc." The man growled, eyeing him as the gate opened and they were admitted into the village properly. "My name is Lord Valois Rouge. Technically, you're my senior in rank."

"I am?"

"Yours is the wealthier family, Aye." He grunted, "But more importantly, the village's head has asked to see you."

"He has?" Jaune blinked the stupid question away - if the captain said it was so, then it was, obviously - and asked instead, "Do you know why?"

"Ansel." Lord Rouge answered, "He wants to speak to you about Ansel."

"Ah…" That wasn't a comforting idea… He distracted himself from it by looking at the village as they passed through.

It was a simple place, much like Ansel had been, but more advanced. And with roads paved more recently by laid stones, which was a sign of its greater wealth. Shallow, wide gulleys ran along either side, crossed by flat stone slabs, and they were filled with waste. Food and otherwise. As they walked, though, water began to wash through it, carrying the filth down with it and towards the wall. Where it went, Jaune didn't know, but he could see a tower near the top of the settlement. Squat and barrel-shaped, like the cooling barrels Port had kept around the Forge. A large tube stuck off the side of, like the spit of a keg, and a pipe ran down from that to vanish into a small shed Jaune could just barely see, from which the water ran until the spit suddenly rose and the flowing water stopped.

"Lord Rouge!" A boisterous voice he recognized called out as they reached the base of the curve that made up the crown of the hill the village had been built upon.

"Tai." The armored soldier nodded as the shirtless man stepped out of the little shed, put his hands on his hips, and paced over. He turned to let Jaune step up to his side and added, "I brought Lord Jaune Arc, as you asked."

Tai was an older man, middle-aged probably, with a body that seemed like it had been chiseled out of tanned granite. He wore a pair of trousers cut off just below his knees, and heavy leather boots halfway up his calves. But, for all he looked like he had been chiseled out of rock itself, he could see the decades of wear on him. Scars cross all over his arms, chest and shoulders, and one curved along his jawline to the tip of his chin. Some were ragged sets of long claw marks, but others were smoother. Knives, swords - the man looked like the board Port had tested blades out on.

And his eyes…

His eyes were a shocking blue that seemed to glint as he turned and looked at him, almost like a Dust-light glinting to light. And they were soft, meeting Jaune's with every ounce of sympathy Jaune felt one could put in a look.

And a distant feeling bit of anger, too.

"Thank you, Lord Rouge. I appreciate it, really, I do.." The man nodded, stopping in front of them and giving him a softer look than his physique implied he could bear. "Arc… First, I wanted to offer my condolences. I've been to Ansel more than once- Hell, more than a hundred times by now, feels like. It was a good place. Good folk."

"Yeah…" Jaune nodded, "Thanks."

"You're welcome." The man offered, seeming to… Read the way Jaune felt from how he stood. Which was a very impressive trick considering Jaune himself didn't know how he felt right now! Bobbing his head up towards the hall, he smirked and added in a chipper tone, "In more ways than one, too. C'mon, I have stew waiting on us."

Inside, the hall was wide and open, lined to either side by long tables flanked by benches. The roof curved up to its apex at the rear, with a raised platform at the back between a pair of heavy wooden doors and a wide sort of seat that could probably fit four or five men on it. A low table sat in front of it, with a carved out center for a fire-pit on which sat a steaming pot over-seen by a thin young girl with dark hair.

"Ruby!" Tai called, "Is the stew ready?"

"Yes, Father!" The girl called back, turning and waving, "Hi everyone!"

"These are Lords! You can't just bloody say hi like that!"

"What?" The girl cocked her head to the side and, even from here, Jaune could feel the confusion in her gaze. "Why not, though?"

"Because… Ugh!" The man sighed and turned to them both, shaking his head and shrugging wryly. "Forgive me, she's… Something of a… A, uh, something."

"No offense take on my account, Tai." Rouge assured him, "Lord Arc?"

"N-No." Jaune blinked, looking away, "N-None taken, uh, Sir."

"Relax, kid." Tai sighed, "You can look. I won't hurt ya for being curious."

Almost shyly, Jaune turned his head to meet Tai's gaze.

Here, in the dimmer light, his bright eyes glowed. As if lit from behind or within by a tiny fire. The light had the same consistency, too, almost flickering. Like fire caught by the wind. Even from his limited learning in the village, Jaune knew what that light was. The fire of his soul, burning bright and freed inside of him.

"The Gods' light…"

"I was a Wanderer for a decade, 'fore I settled down here." Tai explained quietly, smile faltering a bit as he turned away and lead them further in, towards the raised seat and table. "Without their Light, their armor and shield, I would have never made it."

As he took a seat on the couch, Tai gestured to either of the ends that curved around the edge of the table and they took their seats.

"So," Tai started, "Ansel… Tell me what happened while we eat?"

Jaune nodded and flicked his head as Ruby handed him a bowl and a spoon. She was thin and small, but didn't seem frail or sickly. Instead she seemed powerful, in a way. She moved gracefully, and easily, humming as she went and dressed in a thin black dress. When she turned to him, like her father's, her eyes seemed to burn, silvery and bright.

But Jaune forced himself not to stare and turned to Lord Rouge to ask, "Do, uh, you want to start, Sir?"

"Arc," Rouge sighed, "I thought I said to cut that?"