The cohort adjutant reads off the orders of the week. In a comparatively small unit like the ambassadorial guard, sections of guards are put on a rotation of duties unlike in the regular legions with their strict delineation of duties and the support of auxiliaries. To keep light and minimize personnel on the diplomatic mission, the ratio of guards to diplomatic staff was made to be four to one, with diplomatic staff being strictly staff. Besides regular duties of scouting and protecting all sides of the convoy, the guards must attend to their own needs without the support of auxiliaries. This means making camp, cooking, foraging, hunting, and the dreaded duties of digging latrines and taking care of the animals.
"Tsade Section: close-in guard."
You blink at that. Major Isidora's section has kept by the ambassador's side ever since you departed from the capital. You didn't expect that they'd be rotated at all with another section, least of all yours. When the adjutant finishes reading off the week's assignments from his palimpsest, you bring it up.
"Lieutenant, are those orders right?" You ask, walking up to him when he dismounts his box.
"You questioning the Major's orders, son?" You've never liked 2nd Lieutenant Borj, but he's a good administrative officer. He's not much older than you, but always calls you 'son'.
"No, sir, just that I thought the Major's section was assigned to close-in permanently."
"I thought so too, but apparently the ambassador requested Tsade to be rotated in. You'll have the horses for close-in." Borj shrugs his shoulders and leaves to go pack up his things for the day's march.
Alef section, under the Major, hands off their horses to your section, Tsade. Should the convoy come under attack, Tsade will be able to keep pace with a fleeing Ambassador Valt, with him on horseback too. The rest of the main body will stave off the attackers and protect your flight with the ambassador.
With the camp packed and ready to leave, you mount up on your horse. Tsade section does likewise, forming a square five riders wide and five deep around the ambassador and his horse, a well-groomed, stormy grey palfrey. Supposedly it's his favorite, a mount he'd raised himself. The convoy starts moving; the forward scouts and rearguard had departed earlier at the break of dawn. Men start moving, as do horses and carriages.
Vasili comes over to your position at the head of the square of riders protecting the ambassador. His section, Dalet, has also been given horses for the week. Rest from walking, at least. He looks around to see if anyone is looking in this direction. The wind is coming from behind. He turns to you.
"You know, I wish Valt would ride in the carriages like his staff," Vasili confides, riding alongside you. "Wouldn't that make you more comfortable? He'd be less exposed."
You shrug. "He's a former Guard officer, isn't he? Guess he prefers to ride as he used to while in service."
"All the civil officer appointees are former Guard, Kythe. You know that. You don't earn political franchise without service in the Guard. Doesn't mean we leave them to protect themselves."
You nod, acknowledging Vasili's argument. Even in the aristocracy, most scions are unable to make claims upon hereditary lands and titles without serving at least three years in the Guard like citizens must to claim voting rights.
You change the subject.
"Shouldn't you be riding at the head of the column?"
"My sergeant is up there, it's fine," Vasili replies.
The two of you ride in silence for a while before Vasili pipes up again.
"You've got a good sergeant too, Kythe. Tack's a good veteran. Well-educated, and not sour like some of the other vets. Should have made captain by now since his service in the War, but the man refuses to take his commission."
Sergeant Tack is riding not too far behind you; you spare him a glance. He's staring straight ahead but you figure he can hear the two of you lieutenants.
"Of course he's a good sergeant," you say, frowning. "They wouldn't stick a thirdy like me with a green noncom."
"Thirdy" is what they call probationary officers like you on your first tour out of candidacy school. Short for third lieutenant. You'd been a sergeant not too long ago, billeted with the Home Guard in Arcadia – the Federation's capital – before you were handed a recommendation for officer candidate school by your commander. Your creche parents were so proud when you visited your hometown of Valla right before your probationary officer tour.
Vasili retorts: "Major Isidora wouldn't. The unit commander on my probationary tour didn't give a rat's ass."
He huffs and kicks his horse forward, riding back up to the head of the column.
It's noon. The convoy has slowed to a stop to let the horses drink from a stream and for the people to take a break from marching as well as take their midday meals. The ambassador is squatting at the base of a tree in a copse, sipping from a waterskin. He's removed his fur hat and runs a hand through his hair. He waves at you.
" – Lieutenant!" You think you hear him call out. You look around to see if any other officers are standing around during the break from the march.
Yes, you. Come here. You won't make me converse in this way, will you? Once more, the ambassador's mind intrudes upon yours. Once again, you startle a bit.
You make sure one of the guards from your section has a firm hold on their reins of your horse before removing your head covering and moving over to the ambassador. You bow slightly to him, head covering held to your chest. You're not sure where you stand with him after your duel in the camp the previous day.
"Ambassador Valt."
"Don't address me by my title, just Valt. My given name. We're basically kin, you and me. Despite your lack of a tattoo." He squints at you, the sun reflecting off the light covering off snow around the copse.
You're not sure what to say to address this change of tone in your relations with the ambassador. Just previously, he'd looked upon you with disdain upon discovering your lack of a tattoo.
"You're on your probationary tour, yes?" He continues. "Of course you are. You're a thirdy. Here's the deal."
Ambassador Valt takes another sip from his waterskin then resumes speaking.
"You probably are continuing your higher studies from candidacy school, am I correct?"
You nod.
"Alright. You will now ride with me every day, even if your section is assigned elsewhere. Your sergeant can take care of them. You will pitch your tent next to mine. I will tutor you in your studies. You will become my apprentice and eventually I will adopt you as my son. I will sponsor you before the Chamber of Elders and you will receive your tattoo."
You're confused. You thought the House of Testarossa rejects all foundlings due to their uncertain heritage. Their unknown place in the carefully maintained and monitored lineages. You and foundlings like yourself are, well, you're dirty in the eyes of the Elders. You're not even sure adopting a foundling is even a thing.
[] Accept the apprenticeship and adoption. You're not sure if you're able to say no to the ambassador.
[] Say no to the ambassador. You already have a family and wouldn't want second-class membership in the House of Testarossa that adoption would certainly entail.
[] Question him. Why would he want to adopt you? Why would he risk himself like that? Is there even such a thing? Etc. (Feel free to ask additional write-in questions)
[] Say yes to the apprenticeship and no to the adoption. You'd appreciate a mentor but you already have a family.
[] Say no to the apprenticeship and yes to the adoption. You already have a supervisor in the form of Major Isidora and a mentor in Sergeant Tack, but you appreciate the benefits adoption will bring.
[] Write-in
