Becoming A Founding "Father"- Historical Hamilton

Chapter Thirty-One: Stony Point

"March on, boys!" Wayne shouts, holding his cravat to a bloody head. I blink, watching several soldiers pick him up. "Carry me into the fort! For should the wound be mortal, I will die at the head of the column!"

The man was literally shot in the head, yet still persisted. And the next morning he's running around, about to give me a tour. It's no fucking wonder he's called Mad Anthony.

I get out of the tent in the middle of tying my hair back. I accidentally left all my preferred blue ribbons at camp (stolen from Lafayette and Laurens, but what they don't know won't kill them), which meant that I had to tie it up with a thin brown string. 

"You ready, boy?" Wayne asks when finish.

"I am, sir," I reply, matting down my hair. "In my opinion, we should start with the wounded."

"Not the casualties?"

"Casualties take longer to count- you know, you can't go up and tell someone you're dead if you're dead." 

He laughs loudly and we start walking towards the makeshift medical tent. I eye him uneasily. "Are you sure you will be fine? Sir, with all due respect, you've been shot in the head."

"I have passed on all my duties to my second-in-command." He waved me off. "What am I to do, sit in a bed and rest like a weakling? I become restless when my head has nothing to do."

Well, I've definitely never heard of that mindset before. Both Alexander and Lafayette have told me such things in various ways.

Lafayette. I wonder what he's doing now- I miss him.

Wayne calls for the main surgeon, and he tells us all we need to know. "We've got eighty-three men wounded, and currently we have nine casualties, with more to count."

"Ohoho, not bad at all," I say with a smirk. Wayne grins broadly himself.

"Aye, my boys did me proud- though none of this would have been possible without General von Steuben's discipline." He nods firmly, then turns to the doctor. "How many have we captured?"

"You will have to ask the sentries, General," the doctor says, and that's our cue to move on.

 While walking to the walls of the fort, and we encounter a stray firearm laying on the ground. It's just sitting there, neglected- Wayne quickly picks it up and coddles it to his chest.

"Oh, you poor beauty! Who dares to treat you so?" He exclaims, before running his fingers over the patch box- a signature was engrained on it, which he seemed to recognize. "Oh, she's British. She is little, yet she is fierce."

"Oh, she is quite beautiful, is she not?" I say, and the General hands me the gun. Instantly, I notice the effort put into detail and personalization- the gun is shined perfectly, and I can see a carved out rose on the butt of the weapon. The heavy weight feels familiar in my hands- the rifle's clearly expensive and well-loved.

"Aye, a Ferguson Rifle- the best you can get." He huffs. "Yet though these are fast, they do not compare to bayonets!"

"I don't think anything can compare to the knife of a bayonet." I laugh, slightly uneasy. I've seen how easily bayonets can pierce a body, and I don't feel safe around those weapons. Great, but they've done terrible things. "I've never used a bayonet before, had a hand with muskets- but only enough to be considered eligible for the army. Took over sixteen tries to shoot the bottle."

"I've never witnessed a man admit to being a terrible shot before." We both laugh, and I shift the rifle into traveling position. I'm sure that we can stop at the supplies after we've got the number of captured British-