The Old Warden's Keep was everything Jaune had expected of it from the countless tales of adventure he'd grown up with. Suits of old armor, damaged from heroic last stands and left unrepaired to inspire those passing by it, paintings of men and women he didn't recognize, chipped and damaged weapons and shields mounted to the walls, thick, blue carpet trimmed in gold, the colors of his Order, and dark, cold stone surrounding it all imposingly, lit by flickering Dust-lights, each fitted to the walls like the most noble form of a torch, fashioned out of iron rods and glass enclosures circled by glass. They were beautiful, and the way their light brightened as Jaune and Bard approached them was entrancing.
It was all he could do not to barrage Bard with questions about each cracked shield or dented helmet they passed by, much less the paintings, as the man showed him to his barrack.
"It will all be covered in your coming lessons, Lord Arc." The man chuckled when Jaune lingered a moment too long at a sword shattered into a dozen pieces, laid out in a glass-topped case.
"Alright." He nodded, turning away from the sword and smiling apologetically. "Sorry, Bard, I'm just… It's a lot, you know? The armor, the weapons, the sigils and history - and by the True Gods, I'd never even seen a Dust-light before today!"
"Those are popular fixations for new servants, lesser nobles, and even peasants who join with us all." Bard chuckled, "Truly, an equalizer born out of its sheer rarity."
"Yeah…"
"You do know why it's so rare, yes?"
"Most veins in easy to take areas have long since been tapped out, at least as deeply as we dare to mine." Subterranean Grimm were rare, but if one delved too deeply, too greedily, all knew that the dark of the deep would come to consume them. "What few mines out there in the Grimmlands that do find Dust are heavily guarded, and owned by noble families. Right?"
"Merchants, actually, but given your upbringing I suspect the difference is naught but pedantry."
"Uh, yeah, sure." He wasn't sure what 'pedantry' was, but it sounded like 'word games', or something similar, from context.
Bard only smiled, though, eyes crinkling at the corner as he turned and went on, while Jaune trailed in his wake. And fought not to get too distracted by everything around him. A losing battle, more than he'd like, but…
He could only do his best.
"I hope you do not mind, but space is largely already allotted here at the Keep." Bard said as they walked down another hall, this one lined by as many doors as decorative armors. Each door had a lock-hole above the door-handle, and a Dust-light flickering above the door. Jaune hummed as he turned from watching one light up to Bard and the man explained, "I've had to give you less-than-noble quarters. For the time being, I assure you."
"I'm, uh, sure it'll be fine." It'd still be a step-up from what he had been in, he was sure, so somehow he'd manage.
His room turned out to be about two thirds the size of his room at the Wayward, with a cot tucked against the wall by the door, a large desk with a trunk beside it directly opposite, and a tall wardrobe in the corner opposite the door. A pair of Dust-lights sat on either wall, flickering to brighter life as Jaune moved around the room. The walls were stone, and he didn't have any windows, but the floor was completely carpeted in the same blue with gold trim as the halls.
What caught his attention, though, was the simple little door in between the desk and wardrobe.
"The servant's entrance." Bard explained as he crossed the room and tapped at the wrought iron deadbolt on the door. "Simply lock it whenever you like, and they'll leave you be. But during the day, they will use this to tend to the room."
"Tend to it?"
"Sweeping, taking the bedding, taking clothes you leave out, the like." He shrugged and then smiled when Jaune grimaced unsurely, "You're to live as your rank now, Jaune. I know all of this might seem strange, but you will learn to live with it."
'You will have to,' Jaune could hear, left unsaid but echoing nonetheless.
"Yeah," Jaune nodded, "I will."
"I'll leave you be for the night, Jaune." The armored man nodded as he turned to leave. As he went, he explained, "The day is long enough as it is for us to simply rest for the night. Ah, but tomorrow…"
"Tomorrow?"
Bard turned in the door, grinned, and finished, "Tomorrow, I have somewhere around twelve tests to put you through to find out where your education is. I doubt we can replace a decade of what you'd have learned in a manner, but… Well, I'll be damned if I don't try!"
And with that, he was gone, and Jaune was left to sigh and fall onto the stool at his new desk. Tomorrow, the work started… And as anxious as he was, he was just as excited. Enough his stomach felt like it was turning.
XxX----XxX----XxX
He woke up the next morning to a loud pounding on his door and nearly fell out of the, frankly, far too comfortable bed as he scrambled up and stumbled to the door. He tugged it open and blinked drowsily at the armored woman on the other side of the door, who looked him up and down once, sighed, and said, "I was sent to fetch you, boy. Breakfast is in fifteen minutes, and your dress uniform ought to be on your desk."
"Dress uniform…?"
"You think we only ever wear our armor to represent our Order?" She cocked her head, then shrugged and turned to lean against the wall beside his door. "Get dressed and do so quickly. I will not eat cold food because of your delays."
"Y-Yeah." He nodded, "Just, uh, gimme five minutes."
"And counting." The woman warned lowly, "Get to it."
His uniform was surprisingly simple, for a Knightage. The boots were simple and sturdy, made of leather with a soft lining he couldn't identify and bottomed with metal that ringed the soles of his boots kind of like horse-shoes. Jaune tested stepping with them and even through the carpet he could hear the metal thud imposingly. They ran up to his knees and fit so well Jaune had to wonder how they'd been sized for him.
Only then did he notice his shoes from the day before were gone. Along with the rest of his clothes.
So that made sense of that.
His breeches were a fine cotton piece dyed a dark blue that was nearly black, and hemmed along the outside of his leg in the gold stitching of his Order. It didn't have any pockets, and hugged his legs uncomfortably closely, but the black leather belt it came with was lined by pockets and pouches. And even came with a coin purse, dyed blue like everything else with a little bronze clasp at the top and a thick string to loop through a loop on his belt. There was a brass latch on the left side, too, for a sword, but it didn't come with one.
And Crocea Mors was missing…
Which made him more than a little uncomfortable. That sword was most of what backed up his lie…
Nicholas' gemmed ring was on the desk, though, freshly cleaned and shined to a gleam that made Jaune frown. A rag and some polish, and all sign of a truly great man was gone. Wiped away as surely as the tides coming and going would wipe away the man's name written into the sand. It was wrong, and made him sick, especially when he thought of his new, better life. Warm, clean clothes, fresh food, a room fit for a king, all because Nicholas had given him a chance.
A gift…
Given to him for the price of a good man's blood.
He wasn't worthy of it, but he slid the ring on regardless, flexing his hand as he got used to the weight. Which, in spite of being a few ounces at best, felt like a lead ball attached to his finger…
He kept it on, though.
It was all a part of the lie… And a lie that, according to Nicholas, was one of the most important things Jaune could ever serve to protect the Kingdom of Vale. Which was something beyond what a mere blacksmith's apprentice should ever have been made to shoulder, but the Gods' design wasn't something a man could understand. It was just something a man could follow.
At least as best he could...
Ignoring the ring, he turned to pull on his tunic. It was simple, given everything, dyed a dark blue with a golden circle emblazoned on the front. The inside of the circle was blank and black, and Jaune supposed that was meant as a place to show rank. A single silver platelet, barrely the width of his thumb, had been stitched onto the right bicep. He had no idea what it meant, but if it was important, he was certain someone would tell him.
So he ignored it.
Stepping through the door he smiled at the woman, nodded, and asked, "Is this all right?"
"Right enough." She nodded, pushing off the wall and striding away from him with an echo of her armor shifting as she moved.
Jaune was led outside, to the courtyard, where a dozen tables twice as long as he was tall had been arranged. Knights and simple soldiers working out their contracts for the Order sat at the tables, eating and talking quietly, and his guide directed him to join them. Unlike Jaune himself, most of these soldiers wore their armor to their meal, their helmets resting on the table beside their plates and their weapons hanging off their hips. Those few who carried spears had them leaned against their shoulders, where the heads glinted above the food meanicingly.
He took a spot at the end and smiled as a soldier slid a hearty plate of sausage and potatoes over to him. "Thanks."
"Think nothing of it, Brother." The large man across from him rumbled quietly, nodding at his shoulder and adding, "Where'd you get that? You're a bit young, and a Black shield besides, to have a Silver."
"Uh…" Jaune gave the silver platelet a look, then shrugged as he bit off a piece of sweet sausage and explained, "I don't know? What it is, I mean."
"You don't…?"
"He's new." A slight Knight beside him said, eating his own potatoes and turning a blue-eyed look on him. "Aren't you?"
"Y-Yeah, I am." He chuckled sheepishly and explained as best he was willing to so early in the morning, "I, uh, only joined a week or two go. I was supposed to be with Nicholas, but, uh… Well, he died. So now I'm here."
"Wait." The big man blinked his big, brown eyes at him, "You're the Arc boy?"
"Y-Yeah?" So Bard had spread the word about him, then. That was convenient enough, he supposed, besides the fact that he didn't know the details of what Bard had said. But none of his details could be different to Jaune's, right?
No matter what his paranoia said.
"Gods above…" The big man rumbled, plucking a sausage off of his plate and dropping it on Jaune's. Jaune opened his mouth to argue, but the man waved him off. "Lord Arc saved my life once. Ursa took me down, went for my throat, and he took its head off. Feedin' his boy is the least I can do."
"O-Oh." Jaune felt guilty to accept it, but… The sausage was so good, and he had a part to play. "Thank you, uh, mister-"
"Winchester." He grunted shortly, standing and leaning over to offer his hand. "Cardin Winchester. That's my brother there, Dove. It's a pleasure, the tragedy surrounding not withstanding."
"Ah." Winchester was a common enough name, even if it was odd to hear it right away now he was away from Ansel. Still, he shook the man's hand and turned to offer his to Dove.
"The platelet is an Accolade." Knight Dove explained quietly, smiling as Jaune chewed on a mouthful of potatoes and nodded attentively. "Accolades are commemorative. You fight a battle and survive, you might get one. If you lose a lot of people, well…"
"It's more likely." Cardin filled in for his seeming friend, "It's a tradition, to honor people that see a lot of combat. Even a young Knight with a few of those has earned some respect. And wearing it reminds older Knights of that."
"And reminds us all what this life means." Dove added soberly, "We fight against the Kingdom's enemies, and protect the people behind us. And sometimes, that means our people don't all come home."
"Not that you need reminding." Cardin chuckled darkly, shoving his empty plate into the center of the table and standing. As he turned away, he waved a gloved hand to them and sighed, "I'm off for guard duty. Dove, I'll meet you later for our spar."
"Same place." Dove nodded, "Same time?"
"Hour past." Cardin grunted as he left, armor shifting loudly as he went.
"Ah." Dove sighed, tucking into his potatoes with a frown. "He has cleaning duty again. Stubborn, aggressive bastard. Ah well, at least he's good at cleaning…"
Suddenly, a loud bell rang out and Jaune almost jumped as he turned, looking for it. The bell was by the gate, set up in a corner made by the gate-house and the wall where he'd missed it the day before. It rang a second time and half of the knights and soldiers around him stood up, pushing their pates away and moving towards the wall, stables, and wherever else they might be working. Jaune started to stand, unsure of what to do until a light hand landed on his shoulder.
"A call for duty, for soldiers and knights assigned a morning duty shift." Bard explained, nudging him back into his seat and then taking the spot Dove had freed up. He waved for Jaune to eat, and Jaune did, listening as the man spoke, "Today, I'm going to test you as I said I would. We shall start simple, and become more advanced as the day draws on."
"A-Alright…"
"Don't feel anxious." He smiled, "I don't expect you to be as well brought up as a noble. I expect you to fail most of these tests, but their purpose is only to guide me. You should just do your best."
"Yeah." He nodded, "I promise, I will."
"Good." Bard nodded, "Tomorrow, I'll put you through some exercises. Gauge your strength. That should be a test far more suited to your skills. After, we will go and get your armor and sword."
"My armor and sword…?"
"Crocea Mors." Bard explained quietly, "I had it collected to be cleaned and repaired, and preliminary work on your armor and shield have already begun. You'll be fitted tomorrow morning, before your physical tests, and receive it and your sword. And, ah, I see you already found your ring, too."
"Y-Yeah…"
"I'm glad." Bard sighed, "Your birthright is in hand, my boy. Soon, you will be a knight of repute. Shining in gilded armor, fighting as your father did before you. And oh, I can scarcely wait."
Jaune couldn't help the excitement that welled up at that, even with all the guilt and conflict from everything else he was feeling. His sword. His armor. His ring. It was all a lie, but no one but Jaune himself knew it. Could ever know it. And to be so close to his dream…
He couldn't help the heady excitement of it all.