Sir David von James: Oathbound

It's Safe, I Promise.

Desember 6, 329 IA

Fort Kimberly, Southern Lancia

As usual, the tent did little to stave off the heat. It turned the mundane task of setting up David's bedroll into an exhausting and sweat-filled battle. He was red-faced and huffing by the time he backed out on his hands and knees, eyes squinting as the glaring sun greeted him. He'd removed his gambeson and various effects long ago, leaving him wearing a drenched linen shirt. Running a hand through damp, dark hair, he stood back to examine his work.

The canvas walls of his barak were supported by thin wooden spars, and ropes tensioned the sides, forming a neat box-like structure. The tent was for the five members of Oric Squad, and today the setup duties had fallen to him. Inside were the various belongings of his cohorts, with mats, packs, and equipment taking up all available space. As Voortrekkers, they didn't often get the luxury of (somewhat) permanent housing, so they would be using the opportunity to run checks on all their gear.

"Meneer!"

David turned to find a young auxiliary, barely more than a boy, dashing through the fields of tents, satchel bouncing repeatedly on his hip. He scratched to a stop as he reached David, boots kicking up dust on the ground. The grass here was sparse and thin, and the floating dirt that it aroused was a nuisance for soldiers everywhere. After a few seconds of heavy breathing the page straightened, looking upwards as he recalled his message.

"Boss wants you and the squad at Command in forty minutes for a mission briefing."

David nodded his acknowledgment, letting out a low curse. Forty minutes was just barely enough time for him to oil his climbing harnesses. He turned back towards his barak, meaning to tighten one of the guylines before stooping back inside, however, he was stopped again by the auxiliary, who reached up and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Sorry, meneer," implored the youth cautiously, "But you'll need to round up the rest of the squad yourself."

Shrugging off the page's hand, David crossed his arms with a sigh, head tilted in question.

"What are we bloody paying you for, then?"

The page, intimidated by David's broad figure, shrugged apologetically, hands gesticulating as he hurriedly explained, "Sir James said to come find you at the barak and get you to round up the others. I think it was something about getting familiarised with the fortifications?"

"Of course he did."

The auxiliary made another apologetic gesture with his hands before backing away. Seeing that he would not be receiving punishment for an ill-received command, he quickly turned, scurrying off into the field of baraks to deliver his next message. Despite David's earlier comment, there was always more work for an auxiliary to do.

David sighed and looked back at the tent. It would have to wait. Skitter and the others were no doubt on the other end of the fort, just to be contrary.

...

After checking in with a neighbouring squad, David was relieved to learn that Skitter was actually only halfway across camp, doing some work with the baggage train. That meant, at most, a five minute walk. Leaving his gear where it lay in the tent, David started towards the centre of the fort, briefly checking to make sure his leather-bound notebook was secured at his hip. The last time he'd attended a briefing without it he'd been assigned dishwasher duties for a week.

He reached the fort outskirts in a couple of minutes and continued down the roughly hewn path. Here, David could see that the encampment fortifications were nearly complete, with some remaining soldiers either finishing the moat or adding the final trunks to the staked palisade.