Okay, no smut here :p And no Navon torture yet, just some minor torment, but meh XP

Nothing belongs to me 'cept the story.

The next morning, Navon woke up to find himself somewhat disoriented from an interrupted deep-sleep stage. He blinked his eyes open to find wherever he was mostly dark, though with some light filtering in through the canvas. A tent? When did he get a tent? Usually, when he was locked outside, he just slept out in the open. And what was all that noise outside? Was there someone important coming again? Not that stupid…Spitzberg…Wait.

Navon sat up, the warm, wool blanket slipping off him. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and remembered what happened, regaining his cool easily. The noises outside must be the entourage getting ready for the day and he was in a tent because that's where he fell asleep. Oh, he was in Lord Spitzberg's tent because no one had set one up for him. Figures. Oh well. At least Lord Spitzberg was kind, for now at least.

Navon pushed the blanket fully away and turned to face the interior and look around. He was surprised at how plain and practical the tent was, but then again, it was probably not the usual tent the Lord had. This was a simple travel tent. Yes, all that was in there was the bundle of furs to serve as a sort of mattress, the blanket, pillow, and a good-sized duffel bag. His cloak and sandals were where he'd left them, on and next to the duffel bag in the corner. The "bed" took up two-thirds of the tent and the duffel bag was touching both the side of the tent and the edge of the furs, so it really was tiny. He doubted even someone shorter than Arsenio could stand up in there.

Anyways, it was time to start the day. He was starving, since he hadn't eaten the day before except for a quick breakfast very early in the morning before everyone got up. A wonderful smell drifted in through a crack in the tent flat.

Just as he was trying to smooth his hair with his hands, since he was without a brush and didn't dare touch the Lord's bag, a man-shaped shadow showed up at the front of the tent. "Hey, are you up yet? Breakfast is ready and we want to leave as soon as we can, though there's no real rush," said the Lord himself. Navon didn't know how to answer, and so a blond head poked in through the flap. "Oh, you are up." He went in on his knees and put down a bundle of clothes next to Navon's legs. "Here, these should fit, though they'll probably be somewhat baggy. Either way, they're clean and should do until we get to the little town sometime after lunch. There's a stream over yonder so you can wash up. There're soap and towels in a bag over there. You should have plenty of privacy." He said that last sentence in an authoritative way, as if he absolutely knew he would have privacy for some reason.

"Thank you, my Lord," said Navon as politely as he could work out, bowing a little in the new Kleist way.

"You don't have to bother with formalities unless there's a real need for it. Just call me Arsenio." He smiled. "And I'm sure you won't mind if I call you Navon, right? Saying 'Lord Kleist' just reminds me of your father and I rather dislike him."

Navon couldn't help but smile a little, for the fifth time since meeting this character, which was probably more than he'd smiled in his entire life. "As you wish," he said, somehow unable to help keeping a tone of indulgence with this man, who was certainly spoiled, though not in a bad way (so far). Well, Navon had already done everything he'd asked with wonderful results, so maybe it wasn't so bad. He did get a good night's sleep in such a comfortable place and now he was going to be allowed to wash in privacy and then would get a good meal under his belt, not to mention a job he'd be starting sometime soon that let him use his intelligence and skills to the greatest. He almost pinched himself to make sure he was really awake.

Arsenio nodded and left to return to the others. Navon pulled on his sandals, checked his hair again, and pressed the clothing bundle to his chest to act as an anchor as he steeled himself to leave the tent and pass the entourage of militaristic men.

Of course, they stared, but the only one who looked anywhere near hostile was a short, blond, feminine-looking man sitting next to Arsenio, who nudged him and caused him to focus back on his food. A couple soldiers smiled nervously before going back to their own meals of some sort of stew with bread and cheese, but most of them just stared. At least Arsenio's smile was genuine and reassuring, which made Navon feel less anxious enough to start walking toward where Arsenio had pointed was the direction of the stream.

When the double-black had disappeared, Rufus went, "Hrmph," and said, "He looks like a soft breeze could knock him over. I doubt he even knows how to hold a sword, much less use it." He stuffily took a sip of water from a tin cup before him.

"Well, that's why I brought you along, isn't it? You can start training him once we've gotten some more distance between us and Kleist residence," said Arsenio sensibly as he stirred his stew a bit with his spork.

"I'll do what I can, of course, but I can't guarantee much if he doesn't have what it takes to improve."

"I don't think it matters that much, since I just need him for his mind. I'm planning on keeping him as far from combat as I can."

"How can you do that when you're so focused on protecting him? You yourself won't be able to fight and we need a strong leader out there. Besides, what if a couple enemy soldiers manage to sneak around and corner him? He needs to be able to keep himself alive until someone can step in."

"You're completely right, which, again, is why I'm trusting you to help him."

"Of course you are. You're too soft to be able to train anyone properly." Rufus poked him in the leg with his pinky. "Alright, he should be clean by now. I'll go make my inspection." He stood and brushed his hands together before heading off toward the stream.

"Don't scare him too much!" called Arsenio after him, though he didn't stop him. He knew Rufus shared his beliefs when it came to curses, since Rufus had always been the more practical of the two, so wasn't worried about him harassing the poor man…more than he would anyways, that is.

When Rufus got there, the new guy was sitting on a fallen log in nothing but a towel around his waist, trying to get his hair to cooperate. They had no conditioner, since they had to be stingy when it came to extra supplies like that, so it must have been difficult. Rufus lay in wait until he finished and then walked out and cleared his throat to make his presence known. The double-black jumped and turned, still sitting, and looked at him with wide, nervous eyes.

"Relax, Arsenio sent me. I'm Rufus Bielefeld, the recruitment and drill officer, so I need to see what we can do with you in the way of training." He stood about two yards away from him with his arms crossed. "Gods, you're so skinny…Ever hold a sword before?" Head shake. "No martial arts training, I presume?" Head shake. Rufus sighed in annoyance. "You wouldn't last two minutes against an enemy soldier. Stand up and let me see if you have anything for muscle, or if that's just pampered fat on your bones." Since the double-black had gotten somewhat used to him, not that he was exactly relaxed, he stepped over to him. He seemed calm, and yet flinched away when he got close. Rufus ignored that, since he stood as told, and started poking and pinching at his arms and such. "So, what's your name again?"

"Navon Kleist," he said in a level voice, showing as little fear as he could, though his small, unconscious movements gave it away.

"Skinny as a twig, but without fat. Your legs aren't good for long riding, so that'll get uncomfortable quickly, but you'll adjust. Weak arms, but decent hands. You should get your hair trimmed a bit, though Arsenio won't want you to cut it much shorter than that."

"That doesn't seem practical," Navon couldn't help but comment.

Rufus smirked a bit. "I'm sure you'll learn in time about that. Anyways, when we get you some clothes, we'll have to find you a sword. Until then, you can borrow one for training, which won't start until we get far away enough from your parents that Arsey calms down."

Navon couldn't help but snort a bit at that nickname. "Arsey?"

"Which only I'm allowed to call him," Rufus snapped proudly, "since we've been friends since before you were born, little boy."

"Yes, sir." It was still amusing. And Rufus was getting less and less intimidating, since he was gruff yet nice enough, Navon supposed. Also, it was hard to take someone that short and feminine seriously, not that Navon dared not take him seriously, since he clearly knew what he was doing.

"Hmph. Get dressed and come eat so we can go already. I've learned all I need for now." He turned on his heel and left. Navon, somewhat flustered, dressed quickly and returned to camp a few minutes later.

Awkwardly sitting between Arsenio and a gap from which the men had scooted away so no one was there, Navon quickly devoured some decent food, since he really was absolutely starving. Around him, the men chattered over their empty bowls and full stomachs while Arsenio mostly watched, sometimes participating. Navon was surprised at how quiet the General seemed, since he was so friendly, but he supposed he did have a quiet demeanor about him. It was comfortable to be near him, he realized. After a bit, he finished, feeling much better now that he was satiated, and everyone packed up in the blink of an eye and were on their way.