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The tournaments were over. His wounds of bandit battles were healed. All that remained was the journey ahead, and the scars that remained. Adrius stood in his room, his war skirt hanging down his black cloth clad legs, the muscles of which were still soar from a day of battle.
He held his short spear in his left hand, clenched tightly. The blood of his foe dried around the tip. He had used it to end the life of a man, winning the spear tournament only a few days before. The idea hung heavy in his head, seeing his blade pass deep into the man’s leg, then wrestle through the blood and screaming as Adrius ended his life. Senseless. Death in general was senseless, but the killing of men for sport even more so.
He padded across his room, drawing up his swords. There were two of them, each with a strap to fit the harness he wore. He rigged them into place. Diagonal across his back, pressing to the thick layer of short-sleeved chain mail he wore.
His arms were covered by his brown bracers, thick leather from wrist to elbow that were wax hardened, thick enough to turn a blade if need be. His tan suede boots came up to his knees. They were moccasin in style, and were laced tightly, criss-crossing all the way up.
He had a long bladed dagger, about twelve inches of blade with three of hilt, strapped to his left thigh, and across his chest were a row of six throwing knives a small loop in each handle of them, and perfectly balanced. They were as sharp as razors; he had made sure of that himself. What little clothing he needed was already in the officer’s wagon, loaded with provisions for the journey along with the outrider’s clothing.
His survival bag was smaller, a single bag and a bed roll that would strap onto Ares while they traveled. He had a brush for Ares in there, emergency provisions, a set of lines and hooks neatly packed for fishing, a small hand axe for chopping or fighting, two canteens of water for himself and two for Ares, as well as a loud high pitched whistle and flint for signaling for help.
He had just finished making the final preparations, then had ordered the men to attach the oxen to the wagon. Mirelle would be leading the combat orders, however this excursions direction would be lead by him.
He didn’t worry too much about the journey down into Archenland to Anvard. He had made the journey a hundred times in the past months, besides that Lady Ilsa had assured him that a party of four Archenland Guards would meet them at the mountain pass.
Ares waited for him outside, this he already knew. The talking tiger would be clad in a steel mask with armor down his front legs. Eight gauge steel, capable of stopping most arrows. Arius’s bedroll was already on him, along with his bow and two quivers, each with one hundred arrows with warheads.
Leaving the castle, Ares approached him at a slow walk. “Sir, your forces have gathered. I sent word to Lady Ilsa about four hours ago, so they will arrive a half day before us to announce our coming. “ Adrius nodded to him as he lifted his arm, laying the bag on the beast’s back, then strapping it down.
“Send word to Lady Mirelle that we are to leave within the hour. Also, alert Lady Kalis, Soldier Koju, Soldier Arlian, and Soldier Neriyan to ready their respective horses. If any else are to join I would like them on foot. Let Mirelle know that I intend to be the front out rider, ahead with one other, perhaps Kalis, by about ten minutes of the rest. Make sure she assigns someone to the rear guard. Make it at least two.
Ares nodded, and then took off. Adrius made his way over to the two wagons, looking them over. The first was personal supplies and provisions of the twenty odd people that would journey while the other was filled with trade goods. An extremely large healthy sum of gold had been spread across the officers in charge for the other supplies they would need.
He turned as he heard the thudding of Aras’s paws. Turning to the tiger as he stopped, he pulled himself up into the saddle. Looking out at the ones who had gathered, he smiled. “And so it begins old friend…and so it begins.”

Swinging the saddle on her stallion, Neriyan began tightening straps. Squee flew in, snorting about being rear guard, and what an insult it was.
"Calm down little dragon. We can handle it. Now, please go find MuMu for me, we are ready to head out." She affectionately scratched Squee's head before the dragon flew away.
Swinging her leg over the saddle, she reached down so Tika, her tiger cub, could scamper up. Setting her in front, Neriyan clicked her tongue, leading her horse out into the sunshine.
Making sure her sword was attached, she adjusted her ColdFur cloak, and waited for the rest.

*Friar Jason rode into view from around a corner. His mount was an unusually large brown horse, white fur around its hooves. Strong, and lean, the horse walked as if it had no load on its back. It’s muscles were clearly toned from years of service.

Even more impressive than the horse was the rugged rider. He wore a cloak over himself, the hood down. It was impossible to tell what he wore under the cloak, but arrayed along the saddle was a wide selection of weaponry. There was a mace on each flank, and the massive flamberge was mounted to the Friar’s back. On the left side, the large panel of metal that was his shield was secured to the side of the horse, while a quarterstaff was buckled to the right. In addition to his weaponry, there was also a large sack of gear mounted behind the saddle. The strapping was ingenious, transferring the loads smoothly to the horse with no focus to the weight. The whole arrangement seemed to move with the mount like a second skin.

Friar Jason moved past Neriyan, taking up position in front of Mirelle, and turning to face her.*

Lady Mirelle, it would appear that we travel down the same road. If you do not object, I would like to join your party. Perhaps you may find me useful to have around?

*The Friar bowed to Mirelle* I thank you my lady. Traveling alone does get a bit tedious, and I look forward to the company.

*The large horse turned again, and Friar Jason placed himself ahead and to the left of Mirelle, half way between the Narnian Knight Errant and the vanguard. His horse provided him an excelent view, and he could easilly see the entire party forming up. The crisp morning air cause his breath to mist in front of him, and he smiled inwardly. Everything was going according to plan.*

-Kalis put her book back into her pack and nodded to him-

"Yes, everything is almost ready. I know some of us are assembled by the gate. I'm just waiting to see if there is anything last minute that we need to pack. It doesn't look it though. Do you have everything?"

"I don't assume that he will. I'm sure the Friar has his own reasons for joining us."

-looks to Koju's pack and frowns-

"Are you sure you have everything you need?"

*Friar Jason caught the gold out of the air, and smirked to the half-elf. Keeping with the Narnians was a minor task. The large horse plodded forward, huffing quietly*

After the constant bright chatter of Cair Paravel, the Archenland barracks seemed solemn and silent. Ilsa slowly paced the empty room, accompanied only by her footsteps. All the soldiers were out on patrol, or in the drill-yards sparring or target shooting. In a way, it was irritating to return and find everything functioning without herself-- in another, it was comforting.

She pushed open the door and crossed the snowy yard to the officer's stable. Mag, her belligerent red pony, was in the third box-stall in, listlessly chewing some hay. The beast eyed her with boredom.

"Oh, there's no need for that look," she snapped. "I wish to ride, as well."

Though notorious for quick, and often tardy, decisions, she had already picked the five men-at-arms that would ride with her to the border. She had appointed an acting captain to lead while she was gone. Her very bag lay at the foot of her bed, already packed.

She leaned on the stall door and sighed. They would leave tomorrow at first light. Somehow, that didn't seem soon enough.