"ON YOUR FEET JONES!"

Alfred groans at the booming voice of his tormentor as he lies face down in the scorching sand. If he had the strength or the fluid he'd be crying, but he's so exhausted and dehydrated, he doesn't think he has a drop of water left in him for even that.

Beside him, Arthur pants heavily as he struggles to stand up again. The white hot sun is relentless in beating down on them, reflecting off of the wolf's sand clogged fur and making it shimmer.

'Al...' Even the wolf's mental voice sounds breathless.

The blonde barely has the strength to even muster up a groan in response, yet somehow, he's able to roll to the side and jump to his feet as he feels the sand shift beneath them. His movements are sluggish, they both are, but still, they just about dodge the Sandworm that breaks through the dune the pair had been lying on.

It's a strain to even see straight, his head is pounding, and his light weight armour of an Acreta skin breastplate feels heavier than his old full body lot ever did. Even the bronze reinforced leather bracers on his forearms feel like dead weights, and his sword feels impossibly heavy as the metal threatens to burn through the leather and twine hilt.

"COME ON JONES!"

Still, that's all the encouragement he needs.

He pushes through it all to plant his feet, and when the Worm loops back down, he roars back at it as he swings his blade up —gripping it tight and using it's power to speed up the swing— and cuts the beasts head clean off.

But that's about all the strength he can muster as he doubles over from the exertion, using the sword to support his weight as the Worm's twenty foot long body falls limp into the sand —making a fare sized indent in it— the head rolling away to the bottom of the dune. It's a testament to Arthur's exhaustion when he doesn't even try to eat it, only collapsing back down in the sand.

Panting and just about ready to pass out, Al forces himself to look up to the top of the dune.

"T...that," he swallows, mouth as dry as the desert around them, "...makes...twenty...eight..."

"Good," Gilbert, completely unfazed by the heat, grins as he looks down on the pair, "only two more to go."

And so the torture continues.

Gilbert Beilschmidt's 'Advanced Desert Warfare and Acclimatisation Program', or ADWAP as he calls it, is nothing short of a nightmare on steroids to Alfred. Three full days of the most intensive, rigorous, and down right deadly training he's ever had the misfortune of experiencing, and Alfred is left marvelling at the fact their not dead by the end of it.

And when he says full, he means full, even the nights were of no rest to him. He's not slept in three days and now feels like a lifeless puppet who's strings have long since been cut.

Between jogging with a sack full of rocks on his back for four miles up and down the dunes, fighting creatures nonstop and little to no food or water was bad enough on it's own. But that's not including all the battle tactics Gil drilled him on —only giving him water when he got them right or making him run if he got just one thing wrong, before restarting the whole lesson again— and dealing with the drastic changes in temperature —freezing nights and blistering days— and to top it all off, Gil himself would randomly attack him out of nowhere at any given point in the day or night, he honestly thinks he might have died out there if it wasn't for Arthur.

Even though the wolf was having a hard enough time as it is with his thick coat of fur, he still stuck by Al every step of the way. He ran with him, he memorised what Al could not, he fought by him. In the day he used his magic to try to cool them, despite how difficult it clearly was to do in such heat, and during the nights he helped keep him warm with his body heat. More times than he can count the wolf warned him of an incoming attack, and when he was so drained he couldn't move in time, Arthur was there, pulling him to safety, even if it meant he risked getting hurt himself.

One time when he was too slow in moving, Arthur grabbed him by the back of his tunic and pulled him back. But as a result of their position, they both ended up tumbling backwards down one of the larger dunes, Al came out unscathed, but Arthur must have twisted his leg in the fall, resulting in a sprained ankle on which he was forced to limp about on. And oddly, Alfred was also left favouring his left hand as he felt the phantom pain of the wolf's injury, something Mattie had warned him about before they left.

But even injured Arthur refused to stop. Finally, when they were lying cold and tired next to each other in the middle of the night, Al asked him why.

Looking up at the stars, Al sighs, pondering a question he can't quite find an answer to.

Giving up on thinking on it himself, he turns, rolling onto his side to face the wolf, 'Artie?'

With all the random attacks from both creatures and their asshole of an instructor, Al knows it's best to stay quiet, using just his mind to speak.

'Yes Alfred?' The wolf sighs back tiredly, shifting to look down at the young knight pressed against his stomach for warmth.

'Why are you doing this with me?' When the wolf frowns at him, he clarifies, 'Why do all this training? I'm not forcing you, and really, Gil can't either. So then, why?'

Rather than answer, the wolf turns away, and Al starts to think he won't get one until he shivers from a cold blast of wind. Without looking at him, Arthur shifts, using his paws to pull the blonde closer and his body to block as much of the wind as he can.

'You are my pack now.' Alfred looks up at that, but Arthur continues to look away as he speaks, 'That means we stay together, no matter what.'

The pair fall silent, both considering the meaning behind the wolf's words, before Arthur huffs, continuing, 'You should understand, you have your own pack, isn't it the same?'

'My own pack?'

'Those humans. Your brother, the female, the silver one, even the ash one. I may not understand them, but from what you've told me, you follow them, you work together, you fight and protect together.' Finally Arthur looks at him, 'They are your pack, and you are mine. You follow them, I follow you.'

Even though that explained a few things, it left Al with even more questions, but no time to ask them, as Gil chose that exact moment to attack them again.

As the days continued, one thing became increasingly clear, Arthur really doesn't like Gilbert. And Al's pretty sure the feeling is mutual. But, on the plus side, he thinks he might be getting closer to figuring out this whole Command Skill, at least twice he was able to stop Arthur from straight up attacking Gil out of spite, though whether that was him or just Arthur actually listening to him he doesn't know.

By the end of the third night, he's more relieved than words can say to collapse into his bed, falling asleep instantly even as the sun starts to rise outside.

Matthew sighs as he looks over the finalisation of the plans. It's risky, but at this point everything is.

It makes him nervous, not knowing all the factors. Not knowing is what gets you killed, what gets other people killed too. He realised that the hard way...

Still, he has to keep moving forward, they all do.

He'll be better this time, he'll do better.

He blinks at the sound of the door opening, looking up to see Antonio coming into the small library.

"Ahh, still here are you?" He smiles warmly, as always, "I thought you already gave Mistress the final plans?"

"I did," he sighs heavily, slumping in his seat, "I'm just worried I've missed something important."

The brunette chuckles, dragging the only other stool over and plopping it down next to Matt, slinging an arm over his shoulders, "You worry to much. You should trust in yourself more, you know?"

Matthew just sighs again, fiddling with his quill.

For a while Toni is silent beside him, something unusual for the man, before he murmurs solemnly, "Is this about what happened back in Talmeré?" When he feels the blonde stiffen beside him he sighs, shaking his head, "You cannot keep blaming yourself for that."

"But so many people died. I don't even know how many, but... all that...blood...and their was...bits of...it was everywhere..." he shudders at the memory of having to walk through the courtyard to fetch Al, seeing all that he had caused.

"It was not your fault. You did not know the wolf would go wild." Antonio grips his shoulder harder, making him look over, "You did not know. It wasn't your fault." There's a hard look in the brunette's green eyes as he stares forward, and Matt's not sure if he's still talking about him or not.

So he just stays quiet, letting himself be held in the small room, whether for his benefit or Antonio's he doesn't particularly care.

It's around midday when Alfred's room door is kicked open, slamming back into the stone wall and making the blonde jump.

Instincts thoroughly retuned by all of his intensive training, Al dives off the side of his bed, over Arthur, grabbing his sword from the table behind them and rolling to kneel facing the door, unsheathing and raising the blade, ready to strike all in one swift movement. Beside him Arthur too, was startled awake, jumping to his feet and crouching, ready to pounce on anything that dares to move.

"Kesesesese!"

Al sighs, dropping his sword with a heavy clunk as he sees it's only Gil, leaning on his door frame and laughing his head off at them. Arthur on the other hand, makes his displeasure at being woken oh so rudely known, growling and jumping at the albino, and Alfred is too tired to try to stop him. He doesn't see what happens as the pair tumble out into the hall, only hearing Gil's obnoxious laugh and Arthur's colourful choice of words to describe the man.

"Mattiiiiie, feeeeeed meeeee!" Al whines petulantly, slumping over his brother in the dining hall.

"How can I with you lying on me like this?" His twin sighs, trying and failing to remove the human sand bag he calls a brother.

Once Gilbert had successfully evaded Arthur, Al had suddenly remembered how hungry he was, and so the pair had dragged themselves to the Meal Hall, and, having instantly spotted his brother innocently reading with a mug of something delicious smelling, the knight had thrown himself across the unsuspecting blonde.

"Maaattieeee, I'm dying hereeee!" Alfred continues his pathetic whining, hand reaching blindly up to the table for the mug, only for Matthew to lift it out of his reach.

Arthur, for his part, simply gives a low grumble of complaint as he lies behind the pair. Though Al is familiar with the sound, knowing it's just the wolf's way of demanding food without saying it, Matthew is not, and freezes in his teasing of Al, fearful of what the wolf might do.

Luckily for Matt, Antonio comes over to join their table then, trays of food in hand.

"Lunch is served! Or is it still breakfast for the knight?" He grins, setting down an assortment of meats, soups and bread before them.

"Fooood! May the Gods bless you, oh great one!" Al dramatically cries, bowing at Toni while simultaneously grabbing the first thing that comes to hand and shoving it in his face.

"Eat as much as you want kid, you've earned it." Gil grins, reappearing from who knows where to join them with even more food.

As he stuffs his face, Al is force to sit up from his brother's lap as Arthur roughly head-butts him.

'Alfred...' He growls, and it doesn't take a genius to know what the wolf wants.

The others can tell too, by the loud grumbling coming from the wolf's stomach.

"Oh, right, uhhh," he looks over the food, before grabbing for a roasted leg of some kind, "oooh, here, try this!"

"Hey!" But before he can give it over, Gil reaches across and slaps the meat out of his hand. "What do you think your doing?"

"Me!?" Al cries affronted, "Feeding Artie, what are you doing? He's just as hungry as me you know!"

Unfazed, Gil sits back, "Not with that your not, this isn't wolf food." Al glares, opening his mouth, ready to start a fight, before the albino smirks, "That, is wolf food." He grins, nodding to the kitchens.

Turning to look behind him, Al's eyes widen as he stares at the cart being wheeled towards their table by two of the cooks. On it, is the single largest piece of meat he's ever seen, deliciously browned from cooking and glistening in it's own juices, steam still rising up from it.

It's obvious to everyone who this is meant for, and Arthur wastes no time in getting stuck in. As a wolf, and thus not having any table manners, it's no wonder that Arthur makes a bit of a scene as he bites down and pulls the slab of meat down the the ground, causing a clatter as the cart is knocked over in his haste. The poor cooks jump back in fright, not having expected that, while everyone else is just left to stare.

"Kesese, eat up wolfy!" Gilbert shouts, returning to his own meal.

"Gil, what the heck is that from? It's half the size of Arthur!"

"That? A Kokkelo, real big one too." The man shrugs, picking up one of the head sized bowls full of soup, "See this bowl? It's made from their eggshells. They're pretty common further out into the desert, and they're pretty useful for us. Their hide's tough, good for making shields and stuff, not as good as Acreta skin though, but the eggshells are useful, what with them being all scale plated like this, plus you get a lot of meat for your kill, tasty too."

Al stares, remembering what Gil had told him about these beasts.

"But they're huge right? Like giant lizards the size of a house, and their hide is nearly impenetrable, how do you even kill something that big?"

Gil just grins, ripping a loaf of bread apart for effect, and suddenly Al doesn't want to know anymore.

He's distracted however, by Mattie throwing surreptitious glances over his shoulder at the wolf gorging himself just behind them. Having spent so much time with Arthur, Al forgets that it can be a bit unnerving watching him eat, especially when he's hungry and their's meat around. Even so, he can't help grinning as Arthur shreds the slab with his teeth, effortlessly ripping it apart.

Sure, to anyone else it might seem a little... aggressive, but Al finds it hard to see Arthur as anything near threatening when he's drooling, covered in meat juices and singing the praises of how delicious the food is.

"Relax Mattie," he grins, slapping his twin on the back, "Artie won't hurt you, he's cool. Believe it or not, that's about the happiest I've seen him in weeks."

He's trying to be reassuring, but Matthew only seems more disturbed that that is what Al calls happy.

'This is soooo goooood!' Arthur practically sings, cheeks puffing with food.

"Geez Artie," Al snickers, "Yoursupposed to eat it, not make love to it." He teases, and receives a tail slap to the face as a result, knocking him out of his seat.

Across the table, Antonio smiles warmly, "Am I to take it that that means he likes my cooking?"

"Huh, you cooked it?" Al asks as he crawls back onto his cushion.

"Yup! Something that big wouldn't fit whole in the ovens, so I gave it a bit of magic treatment."

Alfred stares, wondering what magic he used to cook it.

"Anyway, eat up! This is our treat to you for officially joining us."

"Yeah!" Gilbert suddenly shouts, standing, "A toast, to Jones and Wolf!"

He raises his mug, which suspiciously smells of beer, and not just Matt and Toni, but everyone in the hall with a drink raises their cup.

"Hurrah, hurrah!" They all shout, banging the cups repeatedly to the table. "Hurrah, hurrah!"

Looking around at all the faces of men and women, of friends old and new, and of family, he grins the widest he has in a long time. Snatching up his own cup, he raises it high above his head.

"HURRAH!"

Authors notes: Kind of a filler chapter, but some important stuff does happen so, woo progression! And pieces of the puzzle that is Antonio are beginning to come to light.

*cue tension building music, engage dramatic voice*

But the fun may just end here, as next time! With an extra long chapter, the fight truly begins as our hero's take on the Blood Viper!

Also THANK YOU ALL FOR 100 REVIEWS! You have no idea how much this means to me!

R & R people.

Until next time, stay awesome!