Headquarters

The loud male scream at ten minutes past six in the morning, followed by the shout of "Kill it! Kill it!" and a series of loud thumps, were the sounds that could be heard down the first floor corridor of the Palacio and woke many a startled and sleep-mused person from their beds.

George was about to tuck his shirt into the breeches when the racquet awakened the Headquarters. Ignoring Sanders, who he had to share a room with, and who was awakened by the shouts and was now trying to stumble out of bed, he grabbed his sabre and ran out into the corridor and towards the sound. Barely awake Staff officers were starting to pour out into the corridor in various states of undress, but no one was sure what was going on.
Skidding barefoot on the stone floor, George grabbed a sentry by the collar:
'Where did it come from?!' He shook the tired man for good measure.

[OOC: that was the spider, yes?]

[OOC: Yes, sorry. I forgot to change accounts.]

The sentry looked up at him, startled and afraid.

"Nosey's room, sir!" he choked, using Sir Arthur's nickname as the unexpected demand caught him off guard.

'So what are you doing standing here?!' He shouted, running past him, and the general flow of people seemed to follow him in the same direction, still confused and uncomprehending: they were mostly all good soldiers and officers, but unused to shouts and disturbance within Headquarters, that just didn't happen. George did not bother to knock, throwing the door wide open, sabre at the ready.

[OOC: I presume he didn't lock the door?]

Sir Arthur, in trousers and shirtsleeves, his face pale and shocked turned as Hunter came in, sword bared.

"What in God's name...?"

'If you forgive me, sir, I should be asking you that. Are you alright?' George looked around the room as if seeking for an intruder, but he already lowered his weapon. Behind him Murray, though bursting from curiosity, decided it was best to preserve his Commanding Officer's privacy and dignity, shut the door to Sir Arthur's bedroom and tried to shepherd everyone back to their rooms, assuring them that the General was fine.

Wellesley forced his features into a furious expression.

"I am perfectly well, thank you, Hunter," he snarled. "Now get out!"

Halfway across the room Beckerman, the General's German orderly, stood silently holding what looked like the shovel of the fire irons, a dark stain on the carpet near his feet. A short way from him were a pair of Sir Arthur's boots, but not standing neatly, but untidy and spread apart on the floor as if someone had flung them across the room.

The anger did not go down well. Screaming and throwing things around in the early morning was not exactly a thing one expected a General to do. George folded his arms as much as the sabre, now dangling from one wrist, allowed.

'With all due respect, sir, you just raised the whole Headquarters shouting and throwing things around. If people were awake enough, this door would not be existing anymore and you'd have far more people than just me in your room, worried for your life. So forgive me for asking.' As he spoke he stepped forward to stand on the carpet, the marble floor of the Palacio was unpleasantly cold under his bare feet.

Wellesley forced himself to a more even temper, although it was clear from his expression that he was still extremely peeved about something or other.

"I was... I had a shock, that is all," he said. Could he just admit that there had been a huge spider in his boot and it had crawled onto his hand as he was putting them on? "It is nothing. You can assure the sentries that everything is alright."

'We all had a shock, sir, including the sentries, so I'll get right on to reassuring them when they recover sufficiently enough.' Answered George with a glare, having got himself into a snit by now. 'Did someone attack you?' He asked slighter calmer. The amount of things the General involved himself in secretly he would not be the least surprised if someone did and the General refused to say a word about it.

"No, someone did not attack me," Wellesley said. Nobody but a somewhat persistent arachnid... He ran shaky fingers through his short, tawny hair. "I... I had a shock."

On the other side of the room Beckerman had relinquished his shovel and was using his hankerchief to try and get whatever had caused the stain out of the carpet.

'Then, if you please, sir, sit down. I will have someone fetch Dr. Maturin.' He walked resolutely over to Beckermann and loomed over the man. 'Is this what gave you a shock?' He could not see what Beckermann was scrubbing with the handkerchief. 'What is it?' It could have been an ink stain or blood stain for all he knew, but then why was Beckermann scrubbing at it now of all times?

"Damn it, Hunter, I do not need the doctor," Wellesley sighed, but sat down all the same.

Meanwhile Beckerman looked up at the young ADC, his lined and white-moustached face clearly unimpressed by the captain. Willing to preserve his master's dignity over a charge of insubordination, he shrugged his shoulders mutely and continued with his work.

George sighed and turned to look at the General.
'Forgive me, sir, but, ah, you do look shocked, so maybe...' at that moment George looked down again and when Beckermann lifted the hankerchief briefly realised that he was looking at nothing other than spider remains. Then it dawned on him. Boots flung across the room. The shouts 'Kill it! Kill it!', the General's trembling hands and pale face. His eyes widened almost comically. George's first thought was: 'He is going to kill me!'

His second thought was: 'I have to get out of here.' He almost forgot about last night, too shaken himself at the time. He'd never expected anything more than a private knowledge of having done something horribly childish and undignified, but this was much more than that. And no matter how sympathetic he felt towards the General, obviously genuinely shocked and shaken, any second now he was going to collapse in laughing hysteria. The kind of hysteria that might come before an execution. He kept his face straight with an effort. Retreat was going to have to be carried out very carefully.

Colonel Brandon had been shaken awake by the General's screams. Somnolent, he stumbled out of bed, grabbed his breeches and somewhat managed to don them on the way to the door, not bothering to exchange his nightshirt for a shorter daytime one. Barefoot he ran down the corridor to the General's nightquaters. Confused as to what might have cause the commotion he reached to open the door, indecisive as to knock first or just enter.

And despite the darkness, he knew it was Paix, and there were brains on the floor, too small to be an adult's, and the rain was soaking all his clothes but it was too thick and red to be rain-

There were screams - loud, terrified screams - and Stephen was across the room and stepping out of the door, clad only in drawers and a nightshirt and holding his pistol, before he was awake.

Bleary-eyed and confused, Captain Sanders was somewhat astounded to find Dr. Maturin pointing a pistol at his chest, the man having just emerged in a sudden flurry of activity from his room.

"Sir, may I ask why you are aiming a pistol at me?"
---------

Sir Arthur looked up as Hunter's sentance stumbled to a halt, his frowned depening as the ADC's eyes had widened to an almost comical expression . The only problem was that the General was in no laughing mood.

"Confound it! What is it, man?"

Stephen looked down the corridor; it was quiet, with a couple of bemused men in various states of undress. "Someone was screaming," he said slowly, with a hint of question in his voice, lowering the pistol.

George whipped around to look at the General. 'Oh, nothing at all, sir. I'll just go see about the Doctor, shall I? If you want him, of course. And I think I'd better go and reassure Murray and the rest that everything is in order. If you will excuse me, sir.' George made a beeline for the door.

Hunter was gone before Wellesley could organise a protestation. He sighed, wiping his hands over his face.

"Sie ist tot, mein herr," Beckerman said quietly, picking the last hairy leg off the carpet and secreting the handkerchief in his pocket to wash later.

"Danke sehr," Sir Arthur mumbled in reply.
---------

"Yes, it was Sir Arthur, sir," Sanders replied, glad that the pistol was no longer pointing in his direction. "I don't exactly know why, but it seems that it was a false alarm."

[OOC: Apologies for my very rusty German. Please correct me if any of it's wrong or inapproriate.]

In the doorway Hunter collided with Brandon, both of them stumbling back into the corridor. Gripping Brandon by the arms to stabilises himself, the only thing that Hunter managed to say was a quiet, choked 'It was a spider,' before he collapsed in a fit of silent, breathless laughter, tears starting to stream down his face.

Stephen looked from the unknown man to Hunter in confusion. He uncocked the pistol, flushing - a spider, and he had nearly... At least there had been a scream, noticed by others, to explain it... He stared at the younger captain, helpless in a silent paroxysm of mirth.

Despite the laughter, George heard the 'click' of the gun and looked at Dr. Maturin. That only exacerbated his merriment. 'God..' He breathed. 'Me with a sabre... Doctor with a pistol... Imagine...' And he was off again before he could tell anyone what to imagine, though his abdomen muscles were starting to feel the strain, and there was a definite lack of air in his lungs. He could no longer make a sound.

Stephen looked at the pistol in his hand, and back at the laughing man. He would lock it away at night now - it did not matter if someone used it against him, or if he was unable to defend himself against an attacker; he could not risk this happening again.

Brandon only barely managed to keep his balance as Hunter rushed into him. Instinctively he grabbed the Captain's arm to steady both of them. He looked up at him in plain confusion.
"G... Captain, what is the matter?" But before he received any answer he felt himself being draged away by the man, who seemed to be in a fit of silent laughter the reason of which lay in the dark to Brandon.
They stumbled to a halt when a pistol was pointed at them. "Sir... what?!" He looked back at Hunter "What is going on here?" he demanded to know, his own ignorance making him uncomfortable.

[OOC: @Latin: there is nothing wrong with your German. Only a tiny correction: Sie ist tot = with "t" as it is the adjective and not the noun ]