The Faintest Ink (Watty Winner 2015)

Chapter Seventy-One

Private Colt of the Fourth Guards stood to attention as the Captain dismounted, and executed a salute. Colt wasn't very good at it. He'd joined up the previous year because soldiering sounded easier than trying to eke out an existence on two acres of land, which was all he had left from his father's farm after the debts had been paid.

Sure, he knew there was the possibility of dying on some foreign battlefield, but he wasn't too concerned about that. Serrador had the best army in the world, and he had been convinced that if he just obeyed orders, he'd get through it alright.

He'd seen his father struggle with the farm, testing out different crops. Courgettes one year, lavender the next. Nothing ever growing but the debts. As a soldier, he was told what exactly what to do. When to get up, what to eat, who to charge at. And he knew, if he did exactly what he was told, he never need worry about anything. It was perfect.

He still couldn't get the saluting right though.

"Captain?" he said, rushing forward the catch the reins as they were tossed at him.

"Private...?" said the Captain, a pair of arched eyebrows raising as Colt fumbled with the reins.

"Colt, Sir. I, err, that is..."

"Out with it man. There's a riot in the city, in case you haven't noticed."

"I've been stationed at the Citadel," he said in a rush, trying to get the words out as quickly as possible.

The Captain stopped and actually looked at him properly for the first time. "You're not in Sixteenth Company."

"No," Colt admitted. "Fourth Guards."

"Then why are you here?"

Colt licked his lips. He'd been asking himself the same question. Tracking down the Captain of another company was not something he'd been ordered to do. He'd been given no message to relay. He'd come up with the idea all by himself. Idiot. "Because my Captain-Lieutenant works for the Chancellor."

The Captain narrowed his eyes. "I can't tell if you are being very brave, or incredibly naive."

"Neither. Or both. Possibly. Sir."

The Captain looked over his shoulder and sighed. "In here," he said, indicating the building behind him. It was a pub. The windows were boarded up and the sign, the Rose Dragon sleeping in a mountain cave, was half-hanging loose.

This once cosy bar had been requisitioned by the army, and was now serving as some kind of base for the officers. Each table was set with candles, which is not something he ever saw back at the barracks.

"Sit," ordered the Captain, indicating a chair.

Colt took it and shifted himself under the table with awkward thrusts. He waited expectantly for the Captain to sit down, but the officer seemed to have no intention of doing so. He lifted his flintlock from his belt and set it down on the bar. Then from inside his jacket he brought out a small silver flask and tipped a drink down his throat.

"I would offer you some, but I suspect you have a story to tell, and I don't want the details getting slurred."

"Yes, Sir."

He waited, while the Captain took another drink, and then realising he was not going to be given an opener, began.

"I haven't been with the guards long," he started.

"You surprise me," interrupted the Captain.

Colt started, but the Captain waved him to continue.