The Shining Wyrm

9.2

Jewel was finding that traveling with an army was nothing like her journey to Kaeketeh.

For one, she and the Gryphon Riders spent substantially more time on the wing. Most of it in fact. Rather than actually striving for any sort of speed they mostly spent the day in lazy glides, catching the hot wind off sunbaked fields or exposed stone and cliff faces.

The rest of their responsibility was slow, lazy sweeps from high altitude, scouting roads that the army would likely not be taking for days ahead and making passes up and down the winding line of men and horses that made for the vast march.

For two, Jewel noted how the army did not stop their march at midday. Instead they took breaks every few hours for short respites to drink, eat travel bread or dried jerky ration, water the horses and let them graze a few mouthfuls of grass.

This happened all along the road the men marched and was as closely regimented as the captains, footmen and lords amongst them could manage.

These brief breaks were the only change in the dull march for most of the day.

Besides that there was just the endless marching line of men and beast and of course the singing.

It took a few low passes for Jewel to actually hear it, but for most of the march the men were singing strange ballads in time with the fall of their feet.

The words of the songs varied, some of them were not even ones Jewel recognized at all. But all together and with the guidance of the captains, banner bearers and what Jewel thought might be some kind of military minstrels, they mostly kept time across the entire march.

Intrigued and hopeful for a distraction from her tedium she got lower in her flights to listen to the repetitive rhythm and beat of the singing as music.

Eventually Jewel even started dipping low enough so she could fully make out the words. Much to her disappointment.

“Where is the road?”

“It’s this way!”

“Is that the road?”

“Yes it’s this way!”

Jewel rose up again as the song mostly kept along in that vein. What a dull and simple song. A few sections of marching men later she slipped lower again to listen in hopes of something better.

This one seemed to be more of a proper song over a more rhythmic humming. The deepest voice amongst the particular batch of men leading the words.

“We are gonna march to war today.”

“Says the lord of the land but to skies we pray.”

“That we won’t march All day, All day, all day, ALLL DAAAY!”

Somehow this was worse as they continued with their complaining and general bemoaning of the honor of their lords. Jewel took flight again in a huff and then slowly lowered herself back down in ear shot of another band.

“Keep up the pace, it’s that Way!”

“Left, Right”

“Left, Right”

This time it just kept going like that for far too long. Jewel started climbing angrily to gain altitude again but then there was a barked order from one of the captains and the march shifted up a pace, having to fill a gap that was forming ahead of them.

And with the faster pace the words seemed to change of their own accord all along the troops.

“The shout of the cap means we’re gonna fight

We’re gonna march from dawn to night and more.

Because we are the men of the hills of Viznoze.”

Well that sounded at least more honorable and proper for the proud soldiers of her home!

But it did not last and eventually Jewel grew tired of hearing the variations of what sounded like nothing but complaints and slander for the meticulously planned march that Father and the Lords of Viznove had spent seasons working out.

She was outright shocked at the insult given to their sworn lords and the Generalship.

Jewel skipped over the army, up and down it to listen for hopefully better songs. She normally rather liked music.

But the Soldiers (even the knights?!) were almost to a man singing about getting lost, going in circles, sleeping in haystacks for lack of bedrolls and mistaking the contents of chamber pots for stew! and for some reason long ballads about the various shapes of shepherd daughters.

Jewel thought perhaps there was something wrong with them but from head to tail the army showed nothing particularly different in the manner of the songs sung. And none of the captains or even the lords were doing anything about it (some of them even joined into the very songs complaining about them?!).

So maybe that just was how army marches went?

Jewel had heard work songs before among the peasants but nothing like these!

Most peasant songs were at least educational!

When she had made two more full passes up and down the army low enough to hear the content and witness not a single captain (or lord?!) performing discipline against any singer for their audacity she concluded that this was not at all unexpected.

Which was when Jewel decided that military music was not for her and stopped dipping so low that she could hear their voices as anything but soft murmurs of melody under the roar of the wind.

She was bored, but she was not that bored.

Deprived of the distraction, Jewel turned her attention back to the now very familiar woods, valleys and fields.

They would not be leaving Rochford today but for some reason the army would also not be marching entirely into the village nearest their camp site.

Jewel had not heard why but apparently it was better for discipline and the health of the land to keep the army a few hours walk away from the peasantry after it got underway.

Also the Generals Marcisław of Kliatbatrn and Count Fiebron wanted to have a night in mostly secure lands to work over the levies and their ability to make camp (and in the morning pack it up again).

Sadly, there was nothing of note to scout for while they yet marched in Father’s lands.

Thus besides the awful singing of the marchers there was little to do but watch men march slowly along the same road as they slowly made their way to the chosen campsite.

So Jewel practiced Flight Cant with the Gryphon riders. Working in gestures with her hands and tilting her wings with their formations, the various signals and signs she and her Father had worked out and proposing new ones to help enrich things even beyond that.

And among that necessary training were gossip of a sort and even a few jests between the Gryphon Riders.

The restriction of total gestures possible made otherwise simple riddles deeply challenging and as often the convoluted answer deemed correct by a riddler made of the available ‘words’ were argued vehemently between the flyers in equally restricted terms.

Which was an amusing diversion after a fashion.

Jewel personally preferred playing “what do I scout” to help fill the dull hours rising up on warm rising winds and counting the same houses in the same towns for the fifth time. Flight Cant mostly had all the terms for describing and guessing things as they appeared from the air.

In the fullness of time the sun did reach about two thirds along its path in the sky and with it the army ‘began’ to make camp.

But even that was an endeavor of patience the Wyrm had not anticipated.

The head of the march stopped well before Jewel and her Father’s caravan had on their journey.

For what was probably a good hour they were unloading pack mules and setting up tents, putting up pens for the eventual arrival of the goats and organizing groups to enter the woods for burnables to fuel the army’s fires.

As all the land was still Father’s, the parties set to this labor were about as safe as anywhere else in Viznove but the captains still berated and organized them to move with armed footmen and levy.

Making training and a drill of the camp setting work so that when there was actual present danger they would not be caught unawares.

Likewise there was work for the Flyers of the army.

Jewel for her agility and quiet ascents and landings had been picked to relay the lay of the land from their scouting flights and save the gryphons from the strain of having to make multiple landings and take offs in the evening.

And so she was soon landing to do that vital duty.

Which meant she got the tiresome experience of being forced to tell a Captain’s aide that had somehow missed in the entire mustering that Jewel could talk and think. It made what should have been a simple debrief into an estranged exercise in further patience as she finally confirmed the scouting reports of the rest of the flight of Gryphon Riders was understood and would be conveyed to the captains.

Really were there actually so many aides that there could still be those ignorant of her?

Jewel was not sure how they managed this. Surely they had to run out soon? For the entire muster and the training and drills involved Jewel had unerringly had to constantly speak to people that she had never met before when giving these reports.

But still the day of the march they somehow were still managing to find the ignorant somewhere in the teeming mass of soldiers and servants to take her reports.

Finally she was able to make certain that the aide did actually hear her report and was going to give it to the necessary captains making firewood arrangements for the camp.

And with that, Jewel’s last duty for the march completed for the day she turned to look around for something else to do. Flexing her wings and back to ease some of the tension from most of a day flying.

The encampment was still growing around her. Soldiers and pack mules continuously arrived and captains, aides and even lords tried to direct them to the correct places to camp.

Milling levies from the same towns or territories clustered together around pits dug for cooking fires. Some stared at Jewel but she was making her impressions slowly through the army and most at least had seen her before and gave her little more consideration than the gryphons.

One of the younger ones who seemed too absorbed in his own troubles to notice her drew Jewel’s attention.

The levy had his helmet off and his face looked on the probably younger side. He was staring at the round of his traveling bread ration with resignation, tapping it against his shield with a hollow clatter.

He smelled hungry and tired but also was not moving to even try and gnaw at his ration. Just sat there staring at it.

Listlessly.

Jewel sighed and called up the lessons Muriel had given her on dealing with strangers. The suspiciously ever growing relevance of which still made Jewel want to squint at her Governess and whatever powers of prediction she had. But it would serve her again now as she looked at the exhausted looking levy.

In at least an hour Father’s portion of the supply train would arrive.

Jewel had her fill of flying for the day and she was not expected to do anything else until the rest of the Gryphon Riders made camp.

Her course set, Jewel made her way over to the despondent soldier that seemed a bit younger then Smithson. She had nothing better to do after all.

So she strode up to the levy and spoke softly, making sure her voice hit the notes as fair and gently as she could.

“I’m told it's better if you soak it in a broth.”

naturally the levy jolted and dropped his ration. It clattered off his shield, bounced and then tumbled to the dirt packed hard by many feet and hooves.

But travel bread was hardier than that and Jewel snatched it up off the ground before it finished rolling and buffed it off on her scales before handing it back to the staring man.

“Here, keep this till they get the cook fires going and the broth pots boiling.”

There was a growl of hunger from his middle but still no words, just a tiresomely familiar look of complete shock and gaping mouth.

Well Jewel had practice with that.

Slipping a bit into the voice of polite command Mother used Jewel ordered the levy.

“Help me with this kit.”

That seemed to not quite penetrate so Jewel sighed and deepened the timbre.

“Attend me, Levy! Undo the latch on this pack, no not that one, the one further down...”

It took some work but she managed to direct the gobsmacked peasant to take out one of her bundles of dried meat ration, unfold it and hold it out to her so she could eat a portion from it.

Then when she had her fill she withdrew. Leaving him holding a decent portion to cover for a missed meal on the road for a man.

“Eat the rest, that is a command by the Lady Jewel of Rochford.”

Which finally got a whining mumble of shocked protest. But Jewel would have none of that. And had already planned her rebuttal.

“If you go all day without proper food you will be no good for Viznove. Eat to get your strength back then go ask a footman or one of the more experienced levies how to prepare the ration on the march.”

And then with that Jewel strode away from the befuddled peasant.

Working her way through the rapidly filling camp on the lookout for someone else to help until her Father’s tents were stood up.