28th June, evening; Seconds

Halting before the entrance to the tent, Lieutenant René Leveque paused. He was not often uncertain in his interactions, possessed instead of a naive self confidence resulting from the simple fact that he liked nearly everyone he met. He was uncertain now, however. It did not help that, while familiar with the protocol, he had no experience in such matters. He hated this whole business, more than he could express, but he could not stop it, and it seemed the only way he could help his friend now was to act as facilitator in this madness. That was the bitter irony of it. But there was nothing for it.

Bracing himself, he nodded a greeting to the soldat nearby. "I have business with Monsieur Saint-Hilaire. I was told I might find him here?"

The soldat, a lean, brown haired man, with a usually cheerful demanour straightened somewhat stiffly. "he is over there." He indicated the area where Saint-Hilaire could be found with his finger. "Shall I inform him of your arrival?" He asked dropping his hand that held the cloth he had been cleaning his musket with moments ago.

"I would be exceedingly grateful of that. Thank you," he replied, his momentary relief at the the man's offer souring to churning anxiety as he looked in the direction the man pointed. He dreaded this meeting, for numerous reasons, none of which were even entirely clear to him. All he knew was that he wanted to be anywhere but where he was. But there he stayed.

"Then I....Oh, who shall I tell him wants him?" The soldat asked, looking slightly embarrassed at offering to do it, without knowing the name which he was to introduce. He looked expectantly at the man. He wondered why he looked a bit uncomfortable, discontented.

Oh. "My apologies. Lieutenant René Leveque of the 86e."

"I shall inform him. Wait here." The soldat saluted and quickly disappeared to inform the sous-lieutenant of the lieutenant's appearance. It did not take too long, when the young man appeared. His unseeing eye was covered again, and his gait somewhat better than usual.

He nodded a greeting to the man and introduced himself as sous-lieutenant Étienne Saint-Hilaire of the 17eme Legere.

Leveque bowed his head in a mirrored greeting. "Lieutenant René Leveque, your servant. Though I think you already knew that," he admitted with a faint, slightly sheepish smile. "I think you also know," he continued, his expression sober once more, "why I am here?"

"..correct me if I am mistaken.. " Saint-Hilaire spoke politely. "But I believe you to be here on behalf of another lieutenant and ..the certain problem that addressing. Am I right?" He had no quarrel with Leveque, and unlike Jarreau, he was neither the reason of Prayon's problems so being civil and polite was far from needing effort.

"You are correct, sir," he replied and wished to God that it were otherwise. "Forgive me, for I am unpracticed in these affairs... I understand that the question of weapons has already been settled? It remains now to select a time and place?"

"Yes." Saint-Hilaire nodded. "You are quite right." He motioned for the other to follow him so that they could, if such was a desire, sit down comfortably to conclude with the business at hand. "I had hoped that a simple apology would have solved this." He said conversationally. He had really wished that it would not have come to a duel, earlier at least. Now, that he had been struck by Jarreau, well some things were not as easy.

Leveque's expression saddened. "As would I." He was silent a moment, then added, "But since it did not, will you agree that this -- these affairs ought to be concluded quickly?"

"Yes. " Saint-Hilaire nodded. " The faster that it is behind us, the better. We need to focus on working together... not against one another." Leveque was leaving a fairly good impression at the moment. He appeared indeed much more pleasant to converse than the 'troublemaker'.

"Agreed." He looked as though he would say more, but the words stuck in his throat. This was utter folly. And he was bringing it about. Jarreau would more than likely be killed and here he was talking pleasantly enough about how it would all be arranged. "Forgive me," he said, fighting down the feeling of nausea which suddenly threatened to overwhelm him. Taking a steadying breath, he tried again. "Will tomorrow morning be acceptable?"

Saint-Hilaire nodded. "If it must happen, then yes... tomorrow morning." He agreed, considered whether Bastien would have time, knew that it would be early and that he would need telling to go sleep early that day, but the sooner it was over, the better. Had the man not held his tongue and been smart in the first place, the argument would not have happened at all. Much as he regretted that it did happen, It was Jarreau's fault.

"Lets avoid a repetition of this in the future.." He murmured more to himself.

Leveque nodded in silent agreement, trying not to think of the darker, and he did not doubt, unintended implications of the remark. "With respect to your own... quarrel, " he added after a pause, "Shall I speak with your second, or may I speak with you?"

"My second is capitaine Sourette.." Saint-Hilaire spoke at last. " Of the 17eme of course. And ... to honour the rules .. I would ask if you could speak with him to settle our terms." He smiled faintly.

"Is there anything else that we need to settle before...the day?"

"Of course," Leveque nodded. "I... don't think so? But I'm afraid that I have not had the pleasure of M. Sourette's acquaintance. Do you think that you might be able to direct me to him?"

"Yes.. when you leave here... turn right." He paused and moved to show the proper direction of his captain's whereabouts. He turned so and pointed with his hand. "Do you see the tent there?...the one with three of the 17eme sitting pretty near to?"

He glanced at Leveque. "That is where you can find him. ..Good evening." He added softly.

"My thanks," he replied earnestly, hesitating slightly before adding, "Until tomorrow."

"Until tomorrow." Saint-Hilaire nodded. He did not know what else could be said. The whole ordeal was troublesome. Perhaps after it though, they could meet on normal terms again.

Capitaine Sourette was thanking the Almighty when, after dismissing the relieved guard and exchanging a few words with the soldiers outside the tent, he could drop down on a chair again and put his leg up a bit.

As long as nothing unexpected happened, he should have time for a bit of paperwork (unfortunately Prayon's sudden and unexpected effort meant that now he had to process it on top of everything else). He briefly wondered when his opposite in this unfortunate affaire d'honeur would contact him, but privately he hoped that things had straightened themselves out and he would never hear of it again. A glass of wine and a wet cloth made the aching in his knee more bearable, and a short time later, he was immersed in the report he needed to write.

Leveque halted before the soldiers outside the tent. "Is Capitaine Sourette within?"

The soldiers, recognizing an officer of another regiment, came to attention.

"Yes, Monsieur. He said everybody should just come in."

One soldier held the tentflap invitingly open.

Inside, Sourette looked up and asked in a not unfriendly, though slightly preoccupied tone:

"Yes, what is it?"

Nodding his thanks to the men outside, Leveque ducked under the flap. "Sir," he began, torn between formality and directness, but finally deciding upon the latter. "I was told I should speak with you regarding a --" he couldn't bring himself to say the words 'matter of honour', "--disagreement."

Sourette put his pen aside slowly.

"Ah, yes, lieutenant. Please sit down and forgive me for not standing up. My leg is somewhat bothersome at the moment. I hope we can find a way to solve this disagreement peacefully."

There was a slight, hopeful question in the last sentence.