Manners Maketh the Man

What are manners? Oh, that's simple. They are things to be discarded when you are on the verge of starving to death.

The bread filled my empty stomach and the wine wet my parched throat. I didn't know peasant food was this tasty.

"Careful there." Anya said. "You'll choke. Oh, and lay off on the wine, I don't need you vomiting all over me."

"Jmghmmhmugrk." I mumbled, trying to stuff as much food into my mouth as possible while Anya scrounged around the house to grab as much silver as she could. 

"Hmm, hardly anything." Anya said, with a sigh. "Looks like this one's a bust." She looked back at me, and scanned me up and down once more. "You know, I've heard from someone that eating too much after being starved can kill you. And if you die, I'm leaving your body." She looked at me irritably, and crossed her arms. "Are you listening?"

I swallowed a big slice of bread, and spoke.

"Uh, I'll be fine, I think." I gave her a smile. She returned a smile in kind, before her face quickly turned to panic.

"No wait, this isn't the time to be smiling! Jason! We need to get out of here before someone spots us!"

"Aren't we robbing an abandoned house anyway?" I asked her. "I thought 'morals' went out the window already?"

"Well." Anya said, slightly annoyed and matter-of-fact, "I'm being paid to act professional. So any looting I do is meant to be kept hidden and out of sight. If the commander finds out I'm out looting instead of scouting like I was supposed to, he's going to be pissed...

I'm a light cavalryman, I know what scouting means.

"You're looting when the commander asked for reconnaissance?" I asked her, somewhat indignantly. "Dear god, you mercenaries, you..." I shook my head. "No matter. This is why you can't trust mercs." I took another bite of my bread.

"Hey, Jason, you're not telling anyone, right?" Anya gave me another grin. "Come on, I'll share the silver with you. I didn't find much, but it's worth a lot."

Do I stick to my code of honor, or do I try to get some kind of money, you may ask? Would I - heir to the Barony of Thame, descendant of the House of Baseli, future model knight, and a noble of the peerage, who has sworn, not as part of any formal oath, but to himself and his ancestors, that he would be a defender of the Galerians, paragon of righteousness, inheritor of 800 years of noble tradition, patriotic servant of the throne, and a true hero of justice and honor - accept stolen silver  from an abandoned house?

"Deal. I want half."

"I knew you'd see reason!" Anya flashed another toothy grin. 

Oh fuck me.

I got up, satisfied with my fill. That was enough, probably. I nearly stumbled back down the moment I was on my feet. Must be the wine.

"Hey, Anya?" I looked over at the wolfgirl, still weary. "We can assume there's no one here, right?"

"Probably not."

"Can I just...rest here for a little while? I mean, I don't expect they need you back soon if it's a blind scouting mission."

Anya put her fingers in her chin, as if deep in thought.

"Hmm...that'll be a no, Jason. Unfortunately for you."

"Darn."

"Yeah."

"So, where we headed?" I grabbed the billhook from the ground, and put my only piece of good armor on my head.

***

March 19th, Same Day
Countryside Road

"So your company is fighting for Alex...I see." If the "Blue Aureol Banner of Iris" was fighting against the "Red Aureol Banner of Rose" that was probably Alex against Calli.

"I haven't been paying attention to current events as much as I should have. Sorry for not answering earlier, but no one can make a judgement call when everything is so chaotic." Anya shrugged. "I just go where I'm told, and get paid handsomely for it." Anya gave me an upbeat grin, but her eyes betrayed her worries.

I sighed. A depressive mood permeated my body, manifesting itself as a headache that pounded against my skull. The wine didn't help either. Or, I assume it was the wine.

The oppressive heat beat down on us, as we trudged through the seemingly endless road. Even as the sun was beginning to set, the weather was strangely warm. Galerian Marches are known for their sudden hot spells, and today just so happened to be one of those days.

"How much further away is the camp exactly?" I panted. It's the wine, that's why I'm so slow.

"You okay?" Anya asked. "Well, it's not that far from here. You're a pretty good fighter, for being so...starved, I suppose. Once we get you back to camp, I'll sign you up as a fellow mercenary, and once you're back to full strength, we'll start making some money together. How does that sound?"

"Yeah, yeah." I gazed around at the scenery. Certain portions of the countryside were scorched, seemingly having been burned down by marauding armies. Not a pretty sight. And yet, I could hear the chirping of birds in the trees that remained.

"You're kind of weird, but you seem like a good warrior, if we brush the rust off." Anya said, excitedly. "I wouldn't mind having a sparring partner." She twirled her hair, which was poking out from under her helmet. "I think you'll be out for about a week or two, but once everything's done, you can be my exclusive dance partner!"

"Dance...partner?" I looked at her in surprise, before realizing what she meant. "Oh. I see what you mean."

"Always good to have a battle buddy at your side. My sister said that to me, once." 

I could have sworn I saw Anya's wolf ears twitch as she mentioned her sister, though I couldn't quite tell if they really were, or if it was just her hair blowing in the wind.

God, beastkin are a confusing lot.

"Sister, huh?" My mind wandered over to my own sister, Hannah. In a way, the two really were similar. "Hey, Anya. So I assume, that you barely know anything that's going on."

"Correct, unfortunately. I wish I could help you more, but alas, it is what it is."

"Anya, by any chance, have you seen a strange man in a trenchcoat?" I looked over at her as I kicked a small pebble away, still walking.

"A trenchcoat? I've seen hundreds of men in trenchcoats. Some at our camp too. What qualifies as 'strange' to you?" She thought to herself. "You're the strangest person I've met so far. And I've seen quite a few people."

"Let me rephrase that. A man in a trenchcoat, with a girl, about my age. She has blonde hair and uh...she's a noble you see, she's-"

Anya looked at me as if I was insane.

"A...noblewoman, near a mercenary band like us?" 

"Well, you see, the thing is...ah, whatever." I shook my head. "It's nothing." I continued for another few steps forward before I stopped. "Wait, no."

"Hmm? What is it?"

"They're from House Cordelia. You know House Cordelia, right?"

"The merchants? Well, now we're even colder."

"Ah, well..."

"We DID have a skirmish against the forces of House Fiorenzo recently-"

"Uh, that's not useful. At all."

Rayne. I wondered for a split second, if they would have met Rayne there on the battlefield. A part of me wanted to know, to see how good ol' Rayne was doing. But the cold, icy stare that was etched into my consciousness began to stare back at me, and I dropped it.

Whatever.

"Jason?"

"Huh?"

Anya stopped dead in her tracks, and seeing her, so did I. Plumes of smoke rose from just over the hill we were walking up.

"The camp!"

I gripped my polearm.