Chapter Ten

"Look! There's a fire that way!"

The men fresh from sleep stood and watched the smoke in the dawn sky. Remus imagined the massive home had collapsed into a pile of ash, soot-blackened stones, and burnt matchsticks. Some items might have survived and were recognizable. Most would be twisted, filthy, and useless.

"Isn't that where the Ten Knight's farm is?" asked a man.

"I think that's it."

"Should we go help?"

Lord Rochefort shook his head. "There's a village that way if you pass the farm. They'll have seen and smelled the smoke before us. I'm sure they're all there and helping to put it out. By the time we get over there, we won't be able to do much."

Some nodded. They'd get in the way, and if anybody had died, nobody could fix that.

Remus wanted to go back into the tent, crawl into his pallet, and sleep. They'd gotten back so late, he felt like he hadn't slept at all. Sébastien mostly looked like his usual self and was perfectly dressed. Standing by him, Remus caught the shadows under his eyes and the faint redness that came from a lack of rest and not cursed South Sea items.

He seemed all right, so Remus was sure the items hadn't done any kind of permanent damage. Thank Elira. That was something they could put behind them.

The men muttered and kept looking at the smoke as they prepared for the day. Sébastien got them started on making camp again. Lord Dubois appeared ready to have steam coming from his ears.

If they stayed too long, the Regent's special group would make it to Midland long before them. Remus assumed they'd come afterward, arrive at a different location, and send someone to spy and watch. If the Prince was killed by Middies, they'd await new orders.

Remus wondered if Lord Dubois or anyone else would be sending secret messages. As the morning wore on, he stopped thinking about anything besides his current task. He was too tired and needed all of his concentration so he didn't fuck up.

Sébastien helped with his tent that day, and the majority seemed to have respect for a Prince who could work too. Remus helped him, took care of Whisper, and loaded or unloaded items.

They had greatly improved and were able to set up the camp in about an hour which was a huge success. After a hasty lunch, Sébastien set them to the task of training. The group seemed more into that since they were sick to death of crates and tents.

Formations on foot or horseback can be difficult to get into and maintain. Thank Elira Commander Martin hadn't slacked on fighting.

Lord Rochefort helped since he was a little older and well-trained. After a while, Remus suggested they practice the tortoise formation. Soleil often preferred lines, and strong ones can keep an enemy back. Rowland men would sometimes make a tortoise if they were surrounded and potentially in deep shit. Sébastien permitted it, and several seemed surprised that a Rowland man would teach them a formation used at times in his Kingdom.

"We've done well with our techniques," Lord Dubois complained.

Remus kept his eye on Lord Dubois's sword in case he grew angry enough to take a swing. "If the war kept going, I know who would have been on the losing side, and it wasn't Rowland."

He shouldn't have said that because the ones who had once led the Soleilian army were dead, but it was true. With Remere killed in battle, the Soleilian army had taken a massive blow to their morale, and a soldier needs more than a weapon in his hand to fight well. They'd also lost many soldiers in that fight.

It was also satisfying to watch Lord Dubois turn so red, his face appeared ready to burst into flames like the Ten Knights' house.

"You're a liar!" he blustered.

That was the best he could come up with? "You took Midland and some coastal cities in Rowland, and you did a shit ton of damage, but you didn't get nearly as far as you wanted, and we started taking them back, which forced you to retreat while losing more soldiers. That was before Regent Lupo offered to sign a treaty." Remus left out any details of their last defeat to be respectful of Sébastien. "Even when you took Leshini and tried to drive further inland that way, it was our tortoise formation that helped with defense against your archers who tried to go around and take the hill to pick us off."

"It didn't help when we took Leshini. You still had to retreat, and you lost the city itself-"

"Everyone needs to be quiet and focus on what we're doing now," said Sébastien. "Not past wins or losses."

Lord Dubois turned to the Prince and opened his mouth.

"Are you going to complain or work to get better?" demanded Sébastien. "Or do you imagine yourself as being so good, you can't possibly get better?"

"Your slave needs a whipping. Maybe a day in a gag would also make him shut up and respect his betters."

"It's my decision what I do with him, not yours. If I kept him quiet, he wouldn't be so ready to teach us something we might find useful. Perhaps I should put a gag on you since we've improved, and you had little to do with it."

Lord Dubois shut up after that. How Sébastien could stand to look at him for more than ten seconds was a mystery.

Remus arranged the men and told them how to hold their shields. Position depended on where in the formation they were. Those inside had to hold their shields higher. Once created, they had a circular shape like the shell of a tortoise.

Remus adjusted them as needed so there were no gaps for arrows, magic, or weapons to get through too easily. If a bunch of enemies had come charging through the fields with bows at that moment, it'd be nearly impossible to make a hit with shields covering the whole group. If they came closer with melee weapons or magic, they'd still have trouble nailing someone. Sébastien had taken the center point to be protected, and he held his shield straight above his head.

"Middies know the tortoise," said Remus. "If shit gets bad, you'll keep the Prince in the center for protection. Since they know this, they likely won't be foolish enough to throw themselves at us. They might try with bows or magic. The center ones must be especially careful to keep their shields up to protect the Prince from above."

"What about attacking?" someone asked.

"Before you get started on that, you need to learn how to get into the formation and fast. It could save your life, and you can't attack if you're dead or severely injured."

That was easier said than done. A line was simpler with everyone holding their shield and staying close so the enemy couldn't simply slip by. With layers and shields, they had trouble getting into formation as fast as Remus wanted since it wasn't one they were used to. By the time dinner came, the smoke couldn't be seen from the farm, and they'd improved, not they were good enough in his eyes.

"We'll be staying tomorrow to practice," said Sébastien.

While they were eating, a man riding an old nag came by. Tom spoke to him for a few minutes and came to stand in the center of the camp once the stranger left.

"Last night, did anyone hear a lone rider go by the camp or anything suspicious?"

No one had. Tom said the Ten Knight's home had burned to the ground and destroyed most of the crops. The fire was out, and fortunately, it hadn't spread. When a few dared to poke around the remains of the house, they noticed that the weapons seemed to be missing. Not a single blade or even a twisted piece of metal had been found.

Everyone knew the Ten Knights had liked collecting swords, axes, and bows. Every single weapon wouldn't turn to ash and vanish without a single trace, so it was suspected a man named Sam had taken the items and fled. He'd worked there and taken advantage of the Knights being away. They'd found no evidence of a body either.

Talk ran through the camp. The Knights would be furious when they found out. Sam was a scumbag. How terrible to return home to a pile of scorched splinters. How could a man betray them like that? May Elira smite Sam for his destruction and theft. Blah blah blah.

Lord Dubois probably knew where the Knights were and what they were doing. Considering all of his attempts to undermine Sébastien and paint him as a stupid, young Prince who didn't know what he was doing, he surely had something else up his sleeve for later and was working with the Regent. Remus wished he could threaten to break his knees and wring information out of him.

It seemed the visitor hadn't said anything about Madam Diamond or her brother. She must not have said anything and thought her brother had hidden to lay low for a bit and let the initial shock of the fire wear off a bit. The villagers would all be talking about the incident for quite a while.

She might not realize anything for days.

While Remus ate dinner, he couldn't stop fantasizing about going to bed. Nothing was more tempting than his pallet. The lack of sleep and hard work all day had left him beyond worn out even though he'd pretended to be no more tired than the rest. Sébastien had to have been fighting exhaustion just as hard, and he was already asleep in his bed when Remus entered the tent after dinner. He'd pulled the covers practically over his head and was curled up.

Did he trust Remus anymore after last night? Remus could have run him through or at least attempted to kill him. Running off while on Soleilian soil wasn't the best idea, but someone who was sick to death of slavery and their owner might attempt it.

Remus couldn't contemplate if Sébastien trusted him more. Not with exhaustion heavy on him. He was out like a candle when he got in his pallet.

***

Lord Dubois wore a sour expression the next day while they practiced the formation over and over again. They also practiced moving while keeping their position since that was harder than it sounded. The first couple of times, the tortoise fell apart since some men had to walk backward or sideways. Once they were better, and Remus thought they had moving down pretty well, he taught them how to attack. Magic would be better for reach, and so would spears. Many Rowland men carried them in battle.

For a quick formation where they might not all have pikes, spears, javelins, or lances, they could manage without for a time. They could move while in formation and stab through gaps if someone dared to get close enough.

If the enemy hung back, hoping to wear them down and goad them into breaking and rushing to attack, that's where arrows came in. Focusing on defense was good, but that couldn't last forever. Some of the men were good with bows, so Remus altered it a little.

Those with shields had to learn how to move aside to let the bowmen loose an arrow. They needed space to draw back, and keeping everyone tight together wouldn't work out. After pretending to loose a few arrows at imaginary enemies, those who had opened one side of the formation quickly closed it in case someone rushed them or tried to attack with magic. Those with spears, swords, and magic had to be ready to attack through the tiny gaps.

Remus had everyone hold wooden training swords, and a few hovered around the tortoise as if they were going to attack.

"North!" someone shouted on the north side as a man rushed them.

The men on the north side moved to allow the archers to attack. The man kept running toward them, and the formation closed. Remus heard the faint clang of wood hitting a shield as they tightened.

"West!"

"East!"

Both sides opened, forcing the bowmen to split their attention, and closed again before the soldiers reached them. When the south opened to "attack" a couple of men, the east and west ones tried to hurry around. Remus hadn't said to do that, but it showed they were thinking of what the enemy might do.

Those who had opened reacted by blocking with their shields and hastily closing.

"Move north!" Remus shouted.

The group remained whole as they inched north, and the fake enemies banged on the shields and tried to jab their wooden swords into any little gap. A guy yelped when he was poked. Remus's side stayed pretty tight.

"Arrows!"

The group immediately drew in even tighter to keep arrows from getting in through the top center and potentially hitting Sébastien.

If he hated being surrounded so closely by several men, he didn't show it. Since he'd worn a padded jacket like the rest, it was a bit odd to see him almost looking ready to go to battle.

They took a break, and Remus said everyone needed to put on their full armor so they could practice with the weight. Sébastien wanted to try being on the outer edge so he could practice the moves. He couldn't do much from the center.

"You're not supposed to have to do much," Lord Dubois said in a pleasant voice like a snake attempting to calm his prey. "We're to protect you."

"If something happened, and numbers were drastically reduced, I better know what I'm doing in a new position," Sébastien snapped at him. Several others agreed with his statement.

Once everyone was ready again, Sébastien used his shield and a wooden sword as they ran through the exercise several more times. Overall, everyone improved as they took turns familiarizing themselves with being at different points. Remus was pleased with their progress even though it wasn't quite the same as managing the tortoise in a real fight with several, real enemies attacking. The Prince had done well too. He certainly wasn't afraid of training, and he'd been paying attention earlier too.

They had another quick break to drink water and cool down a little. Sébastien had a nice set of armor that was painted black with silver accents and the lynx crest on his chest. It was a medium-weight set and a bit lighter and less bulky for someone better with speed.

Some of the men looked at Remus with respect since he'd taught them something new, and he clearly wasn't some pet who only tagged after the Prince because he was told to. Hopefully, they'd stopped muttering about him plowing the Prince's ass. He hadn't heard any comments lately, but that didn't mean nobody said it to their buddies in private.

Before dinner, they had an hour of sparring. Sébastien was wicked fast and damn hard to beat. A couple of men got their asses whupped in seconds and had to go nurse their pride. Lord Rochefort managed to get him a couple of times since he was older and nothing to scoff at. He wore heavier armor than Sébastien, and he was decently fast despite the weight. Remus practiced with a couple of men and was taking a breather when a wooden sword nearly slugged him in the neck.

He barely avoided it, and Lord Dubois came at him from the side. He wasn't as fast, but his blows were powerful and a bit too serious.

Wood clacked as Remus parried him.

"You could have said something," Lord Rochefort called out.

"Does the enemy always announce their presence?"

"This isn't war."

No, enemies certainly didn't announce their presence. Many struck like snakes. Remus was sure he had more strength, and with his skill, he could strike, jab, or get the wooden blade close to the Earl's throat which would count as a win. Part of him desperately wanted to so he could put the lord in his place and humiliate him in front of everyone. Dear Elira, how satisfying it would be to soundly beat him and let him crawl off with wounded pride. He was also tempted to say that if they'd met in battle beforehand, Lord Dubois might not be alive to be a sack of shit at that moment.

Some men will allow humiliation to simmer in their veins, and it'll make them bolder and nastier.

Remus parried another hit and allowed himself to be backed up a few steps as he studied the lord's movements. He should let himself take a whack and accept the defeat. Lord Dubois would puff himself up and gloat about his victory over the slave. The Rowland had lost to the Soleilian.

He might even say the once-Crown Prince had gotten by with mostly luck in battle before and couldn't face a true man. It'd be over, and it wasn't like Remus would lose his life to a wooden sword.

Pride said no. Remus had trained hard while growing up, and he'd been proud of his ability, although not so prideful that he grew lax in battle.

Instead of fighting to win, he kept blocking and parrying while the others watched. A few of Lord Dubois's soldiers yelled for him. The lord tried feinting, slowing down a little, and flurries of attacks. Remus blocked every single one and was grateful for his swordmaster and Father putting him and Quintus through the paces in their youth.

Lord Dubois sweated and reddened while his anger grew which in turn made his moves sloppy. Even though Remus had sweated through his shirt and was tired from the day, it wasn't as hard to block. Even a good fighter can lose, and the war had proved that, but he'd faced men who were swifter and neater.

"Are you done yet?" Sébastien called after a bit.

The lord faltered at the tone, and Remus could have gotten him then. He stepped out of reach, and the lord finally relented.

"I thought we were sparring."

"Yes, we were." A note of snotty pride entered Sébastien's voice. "You can't beat him, so concede."

A vein bulged in the Earl's forehead as he turned away. Remus hadn't smashed his pride, but his refusal to lose had certainly cracked it.

Fuck him.

Lord Dubois couldn't do anything else without making himself look silly, and a few of the Prince's men snorted from the back. Despite not technically losing or winning, he likely considered himself as the loser of that bout. He wouldn't forget that either.

Once the men were done for the day, and wooden swords were put up, Remus did the inventory. Dinner was being cooked when he finally headed inside the Prince's tent. Sébastien was slouched in his chair and drinking from a waterskin. He'd taken off the armor and padded jacket. His black shirt had even darker patches from sweat, and errant strands of hair gave him a slightly softer appearance.

"I see you didn't win against him," said Sébastien.

"I didn't lose either."

Sébastien drew a boot up onto the seat of the chair and rested an elbow on his knee. "Any reason?"

Remus unbuckled his sword belt. "He seems the sort to get even later if you stomp on his pride. He imagines it as a direct stab to him as a person if he loses. I figured it'd be better to keep it as a draw."

"So your pride wouldn't be broken either?"

"Partly. The difference is that if someone beat me, I'd see a reason to get better. You can learn from losses. I don't see him seeking to learn from it. He wants to get even." Remus placed his sword on the table and sat in the other chair. "I'm sure he does now despite it being a draw since you forced him to concede."

"Perhaps it's good if he realizes that you're not so easily beaten," said Sébastien. "I'm sure he'll be responsible for something at some point. It won't be right away. When we arrive in Biatano, that would likely be the best time for him. We'll see as we go."

"I'm not saying the future is bright, but shouldn't we leave tomorrow instead of staying another day? A certain lady hasn't come to accuse you of anything, and she may not realize it yet. Still…"

"I'm innocent. While here, I've done nothing but ensure the men learn and train. I'm getting them to a standard I approve of, so why leave quite just yet? It's not like we've set anything on fire." Sébastien innocently blinked at him.

"He doesn't seem to realize we did anything."

"Lord Dubois likely isn't suspicious." Sébastien shrugged. "Fires happen. The brothers were away, and their hired help might have been a true piece of shit who wanted to rob them. Some men are also willing to play a long game, and in his case, Sam would have had it easy. Play the game and have a roof over your head in the meantime."

Talking to Sébastien like a typical fairy being without any nastiness was almost unreal. He'd been too focused on training earlier to grow furious at anything. It still almost felt like a trap to Remus. After their spat in Arquous, he hadn't tried to strike Remus, and one could say he'd been a little more level if the night at the farm didn't count.

Remus didn't doubt that he was often angry, but not wearing the cuffs and being away from the Regent and his past home was definitely helping too. Remus couldn't imagine waking up every day in the Palace and knowing his last remaining family member wanted to kill him. Worse, Sébastien had been forced to sit next to him and talk while pretending to suspect nothing.

Sébastien took a swig from his waterskin. "Wait outside while I clean up."