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Casca was more than glad she had taken over weapon inventory for the night; finding the small crowd behind the weaponry tent was worth the extra work and lecture from Griffith she was bound to get tomorrow for only getting a few hours’ sleep.
Judeau had a disgruntled Captain Guts held by the hands, the two going in graceless circles as Guts tried (to no avail) to follow Judeau’s elegant moves. An equally-disgruntled Corkus was attempting the same with Rickert, with even less luck. Around them, other members of the Band of the Hawk followed and laughed along with the music playing. Part of her wanted to berate the men for shirking their duties that night, but Casca grinned regardless and stepped forward to get a first-hand look at her comrades’ attempts at dancing.
“Oh, Commander!” Judeau beamed, halting himself and Guts. The taller of the two glanced to Casca and immediately grimaced as he realized she had witnessed his horrific but admirable struggle. She chuckled and nodded for the suddenly-stiff men to be at ease.
“Nobody’s in trouble,” Casca assured them, then gave them a Cheshire smile. “Yet. I just came to see what you lot were doing. Since when was dancing a part of our regiment?”
She was rewarded for her question with a few anxious glances before Judeau piped up again. “I thought that because we were invited to that ball of Griffith’s, the men should at least know basic waltzing.” An awkward smile. “So they don’t make fools of themselves.”
“I would’ve been fine,” Guts proudly announced, and Casca firmly disbelieved. “Dancing’s for snobby rich bastards anyways.”
“Those ‘snobby rich bastards’ are the ones paying us, you know,” Casca pointed out. “Maybe Judeau’s onto something. You all could at least look like you know what you’re doing if only so you don’t embarrass Griffith.”
Guts hmph- ed, then gave Corkus a sly look. “Well, I’ll be fine now. The rest of these louts I’m not so sure about.”
“Speak for yourself, bastard!” Corkus immediately retaliated, shoving poor Rickert aside and getting up in Guts’ personal space. “The rest of us actually want to learn so we can look good among the elites! Especially if we’re gonna be an elite one day!”
“Yeah, right,” Guts scoffed, smirking down at a seething Corkus. “I’d — ”
“How about we keep up the practice, gentlemen?” Casca promptly interrupted, coming up to them. “Or would you rather be reprimanded for not doing your duties for the night after all?”
That shut them up quick. Both gave her uncertain glances, then backed off from each other without another word..
Casca gave them a satisfied look, then eyed Judeau. The sneaky young man beamed beneath her gaze, now confident. No doubt he only wanted to bring the men closer together, and rid them of the anxiety that had been building from recent battles. Casca smiled back, knowing full well Judeau was nothing if not full of good intentions.
“Alright, listen up, you uncultured boys!” she cried then, reaffirming everyone’s attention. “We keep up these lessons until none of you has a chance of total embarrassment, you hear me? Judeau’s going to whip you into shape!”
Some laughs, some groans, but general consent. The Hawks with instruments eventually reignited the enthusiasm, and the groups of dancing men began cheerfully following Judeau’s moves once more. Pippin stepped forward and bowed with surprising courtesy to Casca, who laughed happily in return and took his gentle hand.
Judeau was teaching them the basics of waltzing, a dance Casca had only seen nobles do in passing when she caught sight of their fancy balls through windows. Nothing special, but among her friends, among those she considered family, it was the most fun she had had in a long time. A long time. Even better was that Pippin was full of surprises — he was an incredible dancer, especially for a former miner. It made Casca wonder: why didn’t she know Pippin’s background better? She had spent loads of time with him since he joined the Band, so why didn’t she know him all that well?
Come to think of it, how well did she know any of the men? Griffith, with all his secrets, she knew why. But Guts? Corkus? Even Judeau?
As she made a turn with Pippin, Casca couldn’t help but smile. She wanted to know all of them better. They were all people she cared about, even stupid Guts and arrogant Corkus. A team building exercise she could save for another day. Something to look forward to.
Corkus’ laugh suddenly shrilled over the music, catching the attention of those around him, including Casca. She turned, now in a good enough mood to not be too bothered by his cocky laughter, to see what had amused him so much.
Judeau had Guts at arm’s length now, holding a piece of rope between them. Guts looked mortified, enough of an exaggerated expression to make Casca snigger a little as well.
The smaller man motioned with the rope earnestly, not an ounce of embarrassment in his eyes, while Guts returned with an exasperated look. “ Fine ,” the captain finally conceded, allowing Judeau to lean down and tie the cord around Guts’ ankles. His steps were too wide.
“You look ridiculous! ” Corkus cackled, Guts only rolling his eyes. Casca had to admit that her fellow soldier did look a bit amusing. Pippin was also rumbling with a chuckle. “Oh, we have to do this more often!”
Judeau shot Corkus a sly look then and cut another piece of rope. “Oh, I think we will be,” he mused, holding up the rope for Corkus, whose laughter died in his throat and in turn fueled the boisterous mirth of all the other men. Casca laughed aloud, Guts joining in as they saw the terrible face Corkus made at Judeau. “Come on, we can look ridiculous together!” Guts told the other man, earning him a scowl from a defeated Corkus.
“How about we all try the method?”
Heads suddenly wheeled around, and Casca’s snapped quickly behind her as she realized who had come upon them. “Griffith!”
The leader of the Band, the Hawk himself, merely smiled with an amused expression. He looked much happier than usual and younger. Had their display been that entertaining for him? Casca was ready to defend the shirking of duties, but she slackened when she saw the levity in Griffith’s eyes.
“Sir?” Judeau finally piped up, voicing everyone’s confusion. But, despite the question, a grin was already spreading across the acrobat’s lips.
“I doubt my own dance skills are better polished than anyone’s here,” Griffith admitted, a sheepish smile displayed for his men. “Perhaps we could all practice together?”
Casca grinned along with Judeau now. Griffith rarely took time out of his busy schedule to spend quality time with those that followed him so loyally. Casca was very glad she had taken over (and hadn’t finished) weapons inventory for the night.
Once Judeau had Corkus and Griffith’s ankles tied closer together (with Casca of course having to follow suit then with the excuse, “I’m sure my steps were too wide, right Pippin? See, Pippin agrees, he thinks I’m a terrible dancer.”), the lessons continued. Everyone switched partners after every little while, and Casca was glad to say that even her few spins with Guts were enjoyable. The stoic captain of the Raiders was even laughing and trying his utmost. Whether it was because he truly didn’t want to embarrass Griffith in front of the Midland nobles in a few weeks or because he was having too much fun to not be trying so hard, Casca would never know.
Either way, it was a day she would remember for a long time as one of the last days the Hawks were able to relax and cherish the small things, like whether or not Guts could actually dance; she later learned the dancing had started as a bet between Corkus and Judeau. Judeau had won, and he never let Corkus, or Guts, for that matter, live it down.