29th June: Before A Spanish Dawn

Life in Paris was much more conducive to fighting duels than an army life, Sourette thought wryly as he stumbled through the camp at the first grey tinge of dawn, a large case held awkwardly under one arm. Whoever had made the duelling rules had neither realized that several officers missing at dawn was likely to get noticed and cause inconvenience, nor that to fight without alarming half the army, they would have to go a considerable way into territory where the rebels might make it necessary to have half the army at hand.

He could only hope that his two principals (he really couldn't with good conscience let Saint-Hilaire act for Prayon - not when he had a quarrel with his opponent himself) were ready and would make this as quiet and understated an affaire as possible. Knowing whom he was talking about, however, he realized it was to be only a faint hope.

When he reached Saint-Hilaire's tent, he knocked on the wooden case, then called softly: "Saint-Hilaire? Come on, it is time!"

Nothing answered the man for a moment and then a head peeked out from the tent. Saint-Hilaire was already dressed. He whispered a soft. "A moment, sir." Disappeared again, and then reappeared a second time, the last button on his coat slipped through its hole. He appeared prepared for the dawn's 'pleasantries'. Considering how little time it took him to appear outside his tent, nodding to the captain that they could proceed, it was clear he had woken much earlier.

"May I help you.." He indicated the box. "I need to wake lieutenant Prayon and then we can proceed..." He shielded a yawn briefly. His eye was now covered by a patch more for his benefit than for the sensibilities of others.

Sourette shook his head. "You might need all the strength your arm has later."

Dodging the few soldiers already about, they reached Prayon's tent. Only to find him sitting outside of it, eating what appeared to be a hearty meal by the light of a lamp. He was frowning slightly when he saw the captain there, but he greeted them cheerfully and told Etienne: "I feared you would be later for breakfast! Here, try this egg!"

"...Thank you, Bas...lieutenant Prayon." He glanced towards Sourette. "...captain.. would you like something as well?" He had to offer. Both because he was the captain and because he was part in this terrible ordeal. He glanced at Bastien apologetically.

He sat down once he was certain that there was enough space for the captain as well. He closed his eyes briefly then smiled. "...The pistols are.. with us. How are you doing, Prayon?"

Bastien still looked slighly defensive at Etienne, but readily enough jumped up and placed his chair, his plate (hastily freed of breadcrumps with the sleeve of his overcoat) and (since his crockery didn't include a third cup) the whole coffeepot at the captain's disposition.

"Here, mon Capitaine ...."

With great flourish, he held out a wooden slate on which cheese, a bit of ham and some of the local bread was piled.

Sourette, knowing Bastien long enough to notice his discomfort, but (irritated not only by this early hour, but also by this whole double affair) perversely deciding to stoke the fire a bit more and leave the rescue to Etienne, took a piece of the ham and asked with raised eyebrows:

"Why this feast? Did I miss somebody's birthday or have you decided to annoy the quartermaster by refusing his provisions?"

However, the lieutenant was not that easily rolled up. Glibly, he replied:
"No, monsieur. I just read in a book that a lasting peace was more likely if the local population saw that becoming part of the Empire was profitable for them. So that's me, for the good of the Empire supporting the local economy!"

While he adjusted a chest for Etienne to sit on, though, he asked under his breath:

"What the ... is he doing here?"

Saint-Hilaire looked guiltily at his friend and superior officer. He should have told him, but ever since the second challenge had been made and he had asked the captain to be his second it just.. slipped his mind, he was busy, he did not want to speak of it, he did not want to admit to it and well, they really did not have so much time to discuss it either, come to think of it. Barely a few hours of which there was a need for sleep. Would it have benefited Bastien if he knew? There was a slight way around it though. Should Bastien not demand a direct mention of name he could keep the other concentrated on his own duel without much ado. For a little while at least?

"..He's my second." He murmured in reply. "...I know.. I know I've preached to you how tempers should be held under control and how duels are a daft way to go about doing things and how you ought never to even consider one.." All that spoken in whisper, but defensively. "....but I guess I must now bite my tongue as well...This is why he is here... I have mine later."

He quickly bit into his own food, excusing himself for want of giving more of an answer by not wishing to speak with his mouth full.

A brief flash of hurt glimmered for a moment in Bastien's eyes, but he just finished folding his blanket and placing it on the chest as a cushion and said with a light tone:

"Well, aren't we a pair? Am I forgiven for my slight transgression of wanting to put a bullet into one of my fellow men then?"

Sourette shifted uneasily and said:

"Look, Prayon, he couldn't very well ask you to act for him when he was already acting for you!"

"Prayon.." Saint-Hilaire did not miss the hurt and try as he might he knew it could not have gone differently. He beileved Prayon to be a lucky man, but a duel was a game of chance as much as skill. More so when pistols were the weapon chosen. Perhaps the opponent would miss him, perhaps he would not. He doubted that he would apologise. He had shown that clearly enough when a bruise marked Saint-Hilaire's eye.

"I did not want to burden you, because you do have a duel first..." He hesitated. "..Should it have been a completely different time, .." He left the rest unsaid. He did not want to cause offence towards Sourette, though he believed the man probably knew the two friends would first call upon each other and if that was impossible, he would be right next in line. There after, by a long shot, nobody.

"..You are forgiven though.." He said with a bitter smile. "...but that does not mean you may go ahead another time, or take it like a sort of excercise to be done at every occasion. Captain Sourette will vouch with certainty that should we make this a habit, our hides will be had!"

"He most certainly will!", the captain agreed.

"And you will do me the great favour and not both die today, if you please. We have few enough officers as it is, and while most definitely the only thing about Prayon I would miss are his bottles of wine, the Colonel still holds high hopes for you, Saint-Hilaire."

Bastien bowed ironically.

"Thank you, monsieur. It will please you that my will makes provisions for that, so however this ends, you shall not have to miss me."

However, while the Captains words had made a grim reality intrude again, it had rather effectively distracted Bastien from his anger. A bit stiffly, he added:

"Capitain Sourette, since you know of my business now ... May i beg you to take care of my letters for me if ... well, you see, I try to be a sensible person for once, and it will most likely turn out completely unneccessary, and Etienne will laugh about me. They are atop my things in my chest."

He did not look at Etienne, had barely done so since he had heard about the second duel. He had a few times looked as if e was going to ask a question, but in the end always had remained silent.

"And that is why I am a sous-liuetnant and he a lieutenant." Saint-Hilaire said in jest. He did not want to die, and as second in line, he was perhaps at an advantage. He loathed to think of it that way however.

"...Prayon.." He began. He had intended to take care of things, all that concerned the other lieutenant. "I will do my duty as a second...should such duty be needed. Though I'll hope that instead, we are indeed going to laugh at this over a bottle of your finest.." He said sounding somewhat solemn.

".....please , friend.. let this not be the way that we head for the duel... duels. "

Bastien seemed about to say something cutting, but reconsidered, sighed and held out his hand.

"Friends. And if we come out of this unscathed, let us get drunk tonight and forget this whole crap. No silly remark from a line chap is worth this."

Sourette, who seemed to relax a bit at these words, looked around, finally approbriated Prayon's mug, filled it with coffee again and drained it in one go.

"Gentlemen, I believe it is time."

Saint-Hilaire took, and gave the hand a firm shake. "Friends...drunk friends after this is all done." He promised. He straightened then, finishing with his last bite, last sip of drink. He glanced at Sourette then nodded. Quickly, before they were really, truly late.

(they now go to here: Spanish dawn )