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Jorah preferred the ride from Derdriu. 

Sure, it was longer, and his retinue weren’t the cheeriest bunch, but it was leagues ahead of [i]this.[/i] Unlike the miserable seething of the students around him, his guards were bored at best and grumpy at worst, and he could at least get some distance, either by riding a tethered horse for a while or sitting on top of his carriage, singing a tune. Hells, even if they wouldn’t let him out, he could at least recline on the cushions of his own carriage, whiling away the hours by goading guards to snickers through the window. 

But no, on [i]this[/i] cursed trip he had no reprieve. Instead, he was jammed with nine other students into a carriage made for four, with a rough wooden seat up his ass and beset on all sides by bad moods. Jorah might have made the best of the trip, maybe sing a song or tell a torrid story that may or may not have been true, but he was just suffocated, choked by the foul moods around him like so much acrid smoke. Not even his particular brand of stubborn optimism could clear the cloud around the carriage, so eventually even he had to resign himself to misery. 

On the bright side, maybe if he collapsed on arrival, Kaira would give him some medical attention. 

After a veritable eternity of swaying to rival any ocean vessel, Professor Euphemia’s announcement rang out like a cry of liberation, bringing with it a grateful stir in the carriage. That little shot of relief in his fellow students was to Jorah as a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds, and he heaved a breath, feeling like a stone had been lifted off his chest. Of course, like anything, from that little inch of wiggle room he was given, he took a mile, a wry smile cracking across his face at the news. 

[color=FFAB66]“Camping out, eh?”[/color] he hummed suggestively, [color=FFAB66]“Well, I certainly know what [i]my[/i] tent arrangements will be.”[/color] 

When the carriage finally lurched to a halt, Jorah remained uncharacteristically patient, letting most of the other students disembark first—gracious and charitable behaviour befitting a House Leader, he’d add. Wasn’t that something that turned out to be a mixed bag. He’d been making the best of it so far, though. The new uniform was nice enough, its longer jacket and loose trousers reminiscent of the styles of Alliance nobility he knew from the Roundtable. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, looking like the well-trimmed official his father so dearly wanted him to be, but it was a fair sight more comfortable than the closely tailored uniforms forced on the rest of the student body, and the short yellow cape draped across his left shoulder was a sharp touch. 

Of course, leadership was more than a snappy new uniform: there were shoes to fill, too. And with those shoes came responsibilities. There was the hard work, the setting a good example, the burden of authority and duty to lead his House to glory—or, more aptly, the complaining about the paperwork until Clarissa caved and helped him with it. That diplomatic brain of hers was being put to very good use; it had only been three days, and she’d already proved herself an invaluable advisor—even if that suggestion that Jorah assign [i]himself[/i] some weekly chores to set a good example wasn’t all that well received. No matter. She’d learn. 

[color=FF650E]“I think I’d rather be on the receiving end of Duke Gloucester’s archaic rambling than suffer through this another two hours. Next time I’ll remind everyone to bring a cushion.”[/color]

Speaking of Clarissa, Jorah followed her example and stretched a bit, shaking his head. [color=FFAB66]“Screw that, next time I’m bringing my own horse. You and I could do laps around these carriages—just like old times.”[/color]

That familiar glimmer of mischief twinkled in his eye once more, the last remaining tendrils of everyone’s misery finally starting to loose their hold in favour of relief. Or was that… curiosity? No; apprehension, perhaps?

A borrowed anxiety just barely started to nudge at Jorah, and he followed the feeling like a scent, turning from admiring the scenery to face where everyone seemed to be looking. Two dots on the horizon seemed to be the culprit, and taking a step closer, Jorah overheard a few snippets of conversation, shedding light on the reason for everyone’s concern. It seemed they worried the riders might mount an attack—or otherwise be bringing one on their tail. 

And of course, leave it to Auberon to be the first to make for the weapons cart. A bit of an overreaction in Jorah’s eyes, but after bi-daily challenges from both sides over House competition, he wasn’t about to let the Lions’ leader get the jump on him. 

[color=FFAB66]“As I always say, can’t hurt to be cautious,”[/color] Jorah agreed, letting the irony hang as he sauntered his own way to the weapons cart and pulled out a steel bow. There’d been exactly five minutes that morning where he considered bringing his personal bow along, but after taking one look at the pile of beat-up weapons in that rickety cart, he resolved to keep his own bow safe and locked away for as long as he possibly could, far away from whatever monsters would treat perfectly good equipment so inhumanely. 

Of course, no sooner had he clipped a quiver to his belt and dipped into the trunk of arrows than Imogen raced beyond the caravan, apparently bent on being the first to meet the approaching riders. Jorah couldn’t fault her enthusiasm, but… really? They were on horseback, the extra ten feet of proximity in case they sought help wouldn’t make any difference. And now the damn Eagles’ leader was the one rounding her up! 

Admittedly a little miffed, Jorah rolled his eyes before hopping down off the weapons cart, rounding the corner with his trademark grin and placing his hands on his hips. 

[color=FFAB66]“Relax, Your Highness, no need to come to the fair maiden’s rescue so hastily! Unless Milord doth seek the damsel’s attentions!”[/color] he called jovially, chuckling as he waved the two over. [color=FFAB66]“I’m sure everything’s fine, but I [i]would[/i] recommend getting out of the road. The Empire won’t be happy if their heir apparent gets trampled by a spooked horse, I’m sure you understand.”[/color] 

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