"She's going to throw a ball for you?" Cardin chuckled the next morning when Jaune joined him outside, sitting at the table in the gardens to eat a late breakfast. Like Jaune, he'd come dressed in his armor, freshly shined and maintained, and his gauntlets and forearms rustled and creaked with mail and leather as he leaned on the table, smiling under the messy mop of hair he wore bare. "Truly?"
"Why wouldn't she?" He asked and, for a second, Cardin only scoffed before he grimaced and seemed to remember just how genuine a question it was.
"Because you were only just discovered. Only just named Heir." Cardin frowned, running his gloved thumb along the rim of his cup, "And not without blood shed over it, either…"
"I didn't kill her…"
"I know, and you know, and those who were there know, but…" Cardin paused, frowned deeply and yanked his cup up to steal a drink from it as though he were afraid someone would come and take it away from him. Very nearly slamming it back down, he sighed, "Rumors fly, Brother. Particularly in Vale itself. Nobility are… More prone to it than you might imagine."
"I know plenty of nobles, though…" He'd spent weeks, months, training, marching and fighting beside them. He flicked Cardin a look and smirked, "A few of them are a bit rough, and thick in the head-"
"Bite me, Arc."
"-but they haven't seemed overly, er, well, rumor driven." He finished, frowning when Cardin only grimaced. He'd been warned about 'the men talking' about things more than once, in Patch, but it had always seemed more about his actual decisions than unfounded, unprovable rumors. Still, he asked, "At least when it's something so impossible to really prove. Right?"
"Soldiers have to focus a bit more than others do." Cardin answered simply, "They talk alright, as I've warned you before. But… Well, we tend to worry more about what will and won't kill us."
"Ah…"
"Mhm." Cardin nodded, sipping his tea and sighing. "Nobles, though? They're safe, here. But some of 'em get bored. And they get… Talkative. Rushing a ball to celebrate you, even before a service for your sister? People won't like it."
"They didn't have one for her…?"
"Not from what I know, no."
"Then honestly?" He sighed, "I'm not any happier about it…"
Cardin hummed, then pursed his lips and said, "Then why not do something about it?"
"Such as…?"
"You're the family head, with or without a party to celebrate it." Cardin shrugged simply, "So just… Tell her that you want to change plans."
"Is it really that easy?"
"Depends on the family." Cardin shrugged, chuckling under his breath as he relaxed and turned, watching Jaune's Chastened come to deliver their lunch of simple steak and potatoes. Going on while they laid out the cutlery and poured them cups of sweet smelling wine, he said, "My mother would skin me alive were I to try and just… Wave off her plans. But my family selects heads a bit differently, and delegates a lot. And we have to respect what the people under us decide on."
"What if it's against what you want?"
"Then I should have picked better." He shrugged, "Most of the time, it works itself out."
"I don't know if that's how the Ar-" He cleared his throat and amended his wording with a sigh, "I don't know that's how we do things."
"Then do the work and find out." Cardin suggested, cutting into his steak and smirking. "No better way, eh, First?"
"Oh, shut it, Winchester." Jaune rolled his eyes, turning to his own food with a small smile. It wasn't the trip into town the other man had wanted, of course, but he seemed to be enjoying the rest anyways.
And Jaune couldn't say he wasn't, too.
They ate in a quiet, quick way and Cardin only spoke again when both were done, and asked, "Would you care for a spar?"
"A spar?" He hummed, thinking when Cardin nodded, and finally asked. "Is that wise? I'd hate for one of us to get a busted nose or some such before the party my mother is planning."
"That sure I'll lay you out…?" Cardin smiled darkly.
"I'm more worried about busting you in the face with my hammer, actually."
"Ha, well…" Cardin only shrugged and stood, gesturing at the side of his head and smirking. "You're a bit late to worry about unsightly scars, I'm afraid, my dear Lord Arc."
"A-Ah…" He reached up to gently run a thumb along the long, shallow scar that ran along the side of his head, thanks to one of the skirmishes outside Patch. It wasn't that bad, really, but his hair hadn't grown back in there. Which left a long pink streak.
However he felt must have been written on his face because, more serious, Cardin said, "Don't fret over it, or the little knick marks on your cheek. You're a warrior, Arc. Women willing to get near a warrior either are warriors, or don't mind what comes with the territory."
"If you say so…"
"Yeah, well, I do." He chuckled, "Now, about that spar…"
"Sure." Jaune sighed, "Why not? I'll send for my hammer and shield."
"Or," Cardin hummed, "you could use your sword."
"But…" He grimaced, something… Aching burning to life in his gut. Quietly, he said, "I-I'm not exactly trained on how to use it, you know. And besides, it's important, isn't it? I should-"
"You are the Lord of the House, Brother." Cardin cut him off, clapping a hand on his shoulder to break him out of his thoughts. Smiling, he said, "You've earned the right to wield the Crocea Mors out there, too. Fighting as your father did. As his father did. And on back. You should feel worthy to carry it."
Something about the other man's words, after everything they'd been through, seemed to… Put out the burning anxiety and dread in his stomach. Or at least mute it, somehow. Either way, he nodded and turned his head.
"Hare," he said, "fetch my sword."
"Yes, Lord Arc."
It only took a few minutes for them both to be armed and ready, standing in the open space between the larger spaces of the garden and hedgery so that they could spar freely. Cardin had elected to forego a shield, hefting Executioner in both hands and rolling his shoulders to get ready. Jaune had his shield and, weighing uncomfortably on his waist, Crocea Mors.
"Stories say the sheath expands…" Cardin murmured, cocking his helmeted head to get a look at it. "Why use your old shield?"
"Yeah, I've, uh, heard stories about that but, well…" He hefted the old wooden shield and chuckled. "I'm used to this one. And I don't want to play around with more than one thing at a time."
"Understandable, I suppose…" Cardin hummed, then pursed his lips and smirked. "You don't know how to expand it, do you?"
"I, uh, well, I mean…" He sighed and shook his head. "No. No I do not. Do you?"
"No, and I doubt your mother does, either. She'd have had no need." Cardin frowned and then shrugged, "Ah, well. I'm sure you'll figure it out."
"Y-Yeah." Assuming the stories were even true, that was. And outside books, he had no reason to believe they were. Put with what Cardin had told him earlier about bored people and their likeliness to make things up? He shook the thoughts off and drew the sword, looking at its silver blade and golden hilt with a frown for a moment. It was so light…
"Stories say that the Gods blessed it to be, aye." Jaune blinked and looked over at Cardin and realized he must have spoken out loud. Chuckling at his expense, Cardin said, "And ever sharp, too. Which, judging from its state, I am inclined to believe."
"Yeah…" That's what Ember's old master had said, at least, so far as he remembered. Shrugging, he raised his shield and grunted, "Yeah, well, come on then. Let's get this over with."
"That much of a rush to get laid out?"
"Bite me, Winchester."
"Hah!"
XxX----XxX----XxX
In the Kingdoms, balls, dances, tourneys and feasts are held on more or less any occasion they can find an excuse for it. Celebrations of life, for births and deaths alike, coronations for the rulers of various towns and, in my case, for taking the throne of a great family. A waste of resources and time, a part of me thought even then. So much food, and energy, that could have been better spent in so many ways, all wasted instead on nights of half-eaten and thrown away dinner platters, gossip and politics.
It was a glorious waste of resources, but…
Well, I'm not ashamed to admit that I found it wonderful in more ways than I can even recount now. The dresses, the Dust-lights everywhere, the decoration and the food- It was all so much for me. Even when I was in training, everything was built to be solid. Sturdy. Not glamorous or glorious. So seeing it all was… Quite the shock, to say the least. But not a wholly bad one, considering what I learned from it.
And who I met…
XxX----XxX----XxX
Even after the day before's sparring, Jaune felt happier with the weight of his hammer on his waist rather than the sword. It was strange to wear it, to carry it. And even though he knew the hammer weighed about the same as the sword, it still felt all the heavier. He tried to ignore it as Hare fussed at his armor, fitted with the little shields that showed all he had done - the black along with a bright, golden shield that stood for his battles in Patch - and with a long, thin cloak that fell down to his calves. Or…
"Is this still a cloak…?" He wondered, lifting an arm with the thin blue fabric draped over it.
"Technically it would be a cape, Lord." The Chastened answered mutedly, handing him a simple, flat-topped hat. It was perfectly round on top, rimmed in gold, and he knelt so she could put it on for him. When she did, it rested just a bit back, tilted up at the front, and she explained, "Top fashion, my Lord."
"If you say so…" He grunted, straightening and fighting the urge to fix the hat straight. It felt like it was going to fall or something… Ignoring it, he asked, "Is that all, then?"
The Chastened nodded and stepped back, gesturing with a hand at the door and saying, "The event is already started, Master. In the garden. Your mother will be waiting just inside."
"Alright." He nodded, "Lead the way."
"I… Am not permitted at the event, Lord." She grimaced when his brows furrowed and, head ducked like he might strike her when he turned fully to face here, she backed up into one of the long wardrobes in his room and explained, "O-Only a few select, trusted Chastened have been invited to serve those gathered for your proclamation. A small number from the House, and a few trusted servants of the more notable Houses who were sent invitations. I am not on that list…"
"Why not?" He frowned, "You're trustworthy."
"I am new to the House." She shrugged simply, "That alone is enough to make me less trustworthy than others."
"Hmph…" It made a certain sense, when he considered it. New arrivals could be plants or infiltrators, obviously enough. The safest way was also the most convenient since older, more known Chastened would be the more likely ones to be chosen. Shrugging, and curious, he asked, "What will you all be doing, then?"
"Whatever needs doing away from the event." She answered plainly, "I will not know until later, Lord."
With that said she bowed again and backed away, a silent request for leave to be about whatever else she had to do, and he granted it with a nod. They stepped out into the hall together, but she turned and scurried off quickly, and he left the other way.
Despite the party going on outside, the halls were quiet. And empty, too, as he passed through. He didn't mind, of course. The quiet reminded him of early mornings in his training, when he was able to just… Enjoy the peace and quiet, before meals and sparring and drill put any sense of 'quiet' or 'peace' in a fiery grave. As then, it was short-lived now, and he came out to find his mother waiting in a simple, flowing blue dress hemmed in gold.
"Son." She smiled as he reached her and she gestured at the door, "You know how this goes, yes?"
"No." He grimaced when her lips dipped just a bit lower on her manicured smile and added, quietly, "I'm sorry."
"It is quite alright." She lied, obviously enough for even Jaune to catch her for it. No, she was very annoyed by the failing - even if he had very little way to have avoided it. Quickly, tersely, she explained, "I will announce you, you will greet the guests, and then you will stand and meet those of note who I have already prepared you for."
"Are there many?"
"Are you complaining?"
"No." He shrugged and frowned, "I just want to know what I'm walking into. It's always better to know than not."
"Spoken like a Knight." She finally smiled, shaking her head gently in a way that was, to him, more amused than anything. "There are quite a few, yes. But not terribly many. This is all rather short notice, you see. Mostly you shall meet those in the capital who heard and came, or the few dozen I invited."
"I see…"
"You are also their equals, so expect quite a bit of attention and deference." She smiled, "Short of the King, who is less likely to make a genial attending than a Grimm, ours is the highest House of note here."
"Alright." He offered her his arm, curved out like he'd seen in books back in… When he was young. And, smiling, he asked, "Shall we, then?"
She nodded and looped her arm over his, acting as an obvious escort rather than anything more, and gestured at the door. He tugged it open and, together, they stepped outside. Dozens of people were waiting, milling about around half as many tables topped by flowers, fruits, meats and wines. Dust-Lights ringed the assembly, standing up on silvered stands and casting their glittering, almost ephemeral, light across the guests.
"May I present," his mother called out, voice echoing as the guests noticed them and already were falling silent, "Lord Jaune of the House Arc in Vale, Knight-Captain of the Order of the Preying Eagle, savior of Patch, Avenger of Ansel, bearer of the Crocea Mors and, of all else, the first born son of our most noble House. I pray you meet us in peace, prosperity, and the gaze of the Gods' eyes."
They applauded quietly, and he could see smiles - and even caught Cardin's gaze, lurking in the back, and the nod he paid him - but raised his hand for a quiet that came quickly. Stepping forward and out of his mother's grip, he cleared his throat.
"I… Confess I'm not well versed in all of this, raised as I was, and as I am sure you all know I was. I spent more time swinging my hammer at the forge than studying much of anything, I'm afraid." He tapped a hand to his forehead, smiling to put the nobles at ease, and felt a bit satisfied when at least a few of them chuckled quietly. Then, quietly, he said, "But… I would like to ask a moment of you all. For my sister, who fell in the defence of Patch. Whose forces turned the tide."
The nobles murmured at that but, before anyone could say anything, a distant echo came to them. And, just after, Jaune could see the elegantly carved white wood of a carriage coming up the path. It came to a stop a few yards from the little gathering and while nobles murmured their curiosity, his sister already forgotten enough to make is hand curl into a fist, the portly carriage driver stood and tipped his hat.
"Forgive our lateness, Lords, Ladies and all elsewise." He said, straightened and grunting as his eyes took on a new glint. "But I say ye make way for the lady Weiss Schnee, Princess of Atlas, Lady of the Frigid Sea, wielder of the Dust-Blade Myrtenaster and slayer of Wyrms!"
"The heiress of Atlas?!" His mother gasped as the carriage opened and a slight woman stepped out, dressed in a well-fitted black suit. She had a porcelain mask that covered one half of her face and laid a hand on the hilt of her rapier as she stepped down and looked around them.
Pursing her lips she said, "Well? I have come to meet the new Lord of the House. Who will introduce me?"
In all his life, he'd never seen a woman move as quickly as his mother did taking his arm again and bowing her head deeply. "This is he, your Highness! My son, Lord Jaune."
The woman's ice blue eyes rolled from her to him and, surprised and agitated, he only said the first thing that came to mind-
"Uh…. Hi?"