Training Day - the Girandoni

"As you said, quite impracticable," Sanders said, lowering the gun and studying it again, a smile on his face. "The groupings do not hold for long, now that it is used... but the idea in itself is quite fascinating. There is certtainly room for improvement - a better method of sealing the air resevoirs, perhaps... How many of these did the Austrians make?"
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Wellesley frowned. He most likely had been awake when Von Dorn called that morning, yet none of his staff were to have known and probably thought it not worth disturbing him. A shame, as it meant that he most likely would have to seek out this 'von Dorn' - which he was increasingly convinced could not be the man's real identity.

It seemed that Hunter was as clueless as the rest - though his manner was more awkward than usual. There was something he was not telling him, or willing to admit to.

"And what is your opinion of the man? You are the only one so far to have had any contact with him."

"As I understand it, about fifteen hundred all told. They've been using them for nearly thirty years though, and the makers never quite overcame its faults. The air reservoirs are one of the problems: they're difficult to make, or to repair away from properly equipped workshops. They leak from the gaskets, or just from the joins..." Edrington looked down at it. "I assume our arms makers are still working on it, but at present we're safe, since the French have not managed to improve on the design either."

George was not going to hide what he truly thought about the man.

'Clever. Doesn't say much. Very calm and serious. I am quite sure he is a ruthless man, when it suits him.' And that was about the extent of his knowledge of von Dorn's personality.

'I think he also had some dealings in the Eastern Europe, sir.' In the end George decided that, even though he'll help von Dorn keep up the pretence of being a Prussian, he will slip in this piece of information. If Wellesley thought George was not being absolutely open with him, he can always pretend to feel uncomfortable about his roots. After all the General seemed to know nothing of them.

Wellesley thought about it for a moment. Hunter was part Polish - that much he knew - which might explain why von Dorn had gone to him and not to another officer. He'd had Hogan set a watch on Hunter and the address supplied that morning and was yet to hear their reports. He'd be interested to hear an impression from another man.

"What gives you that impression? Did you converse with him for long?"
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Fifteen hundred. Sanders raised his eyebrows.

"Perhaps we should be grateful that they have not yet reached perfection; as although Boney is prejudiced against rifles I doubt he would have been able to resist these."

He gave the butt a thoughtful tap. Fifteen hundred. Enough to equip a whole battalion and take out the entire compliment of an army's officers. A frightening thought indeed - but also intriguing.

"Such a weapon would change the entire way wars are fought."

"That - as I understand from a cousin with the Austrians - is how many they've purchased. How many they have in use I don't know. Given their general fragility half of those may be replacements for damaged weapons. The Higher Command blames the men.,," Edrington smiled. "My theory is that the person who first ordered them is standing by his decision to do so, despite the gun's imperfections. Since his decision to buy them was absolutely correct, the problems must lie with the men. If the bad workman blames his tools, the bad procurement officer blames the man at the sharp end."

[OOC: Hunter is part Polish, and he gave Sir Arthur the letter and the address this morning when the man came for the kitten, not last night. ]

'Not long, no. A little last night, when I received the letter and this morning, when he came to see if there were any news. We didn't talk of business much, since he evaded any question about it, but a certain remark he made about his work and his travels... Certain places he mentioned. I know some of them, sir, and a man does not go there to admire the architecture'.

George noticed that he was being watched: a man with his 'tastes' did not not survive by being unobservant. He did not let it worry him though. The watch was there only since this morning and he did not intend to 'indulge' until it was taken off. It did however put a dampener on his desire to acquire the horse.

[OOC: Sorry!]

Wellesley gave Hunter a very hard stare.

"Not, I take it, a banker then. And maybe not even Prussian."
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Sanders smiled.

"Well, perhaps the gentleman should have considered that giving a blacksmith a glass hammer was not a work of wisdom in the first place; but I am certain he does not see it that way."

He held the rifle out carefully to Edrington.

"Thank you for the chance to examine it more closely. A rare opportunity, I am sure."

George held the stare unflinchingly and shrugged:
'He might be, he might not be. He might have just been there on some shady financial business, after all, most Polish people do not exactly like Russians or trust them. I am not going to presume anything, sir.'

"That would have involved admitting that his decision was wrong in the first place!" Edrington adopted a tone of shock. "You cannot expect that. One can see him now, moustaches bristling as he claims that this discovery of his will bring them victory - change the way it is fought, as you say," he nodded at Sanders. "The first demonstrations were effective, and - probably he got advantages: patronage, preferment, a title. How could he go back and say: Actually, they don't work very well, and we need a support regiment of double the size of the actual fighting strength..."

"It does present an amusing dilemma," Sanders said, his smile widening. "Yet thankfully we have a more measured attitude to incorporating new technologies and advancements into our army, as you and you and Captain Vickery's men have so ably demonstrated today. Unlike the Baker rifle I believe the Girandoni to have been a step to far too soon."
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Wellesley raised an eyebrow at Hunter's admission to a personal connection or bias; but in the grand scheme of things it did not bear much weight yet. He'd wait to hear the reports from Hogan.

"I however would like to have something a little more solid to go on than mere presumptions. Can you arrange a meeting with him?"

George realised his last words sounded like he was talking about himself: he wondered whether the General knew that his grandfather, though Polish, has always been a faithful servant to the Tsar, who even presented him with some land, after he proved his bravery in a battle. It was unlikely though that Wellesley would know anything about Polish aristocracy.

'Yes, sir. When do you wish to hold this meeting?' Was the man trying to catch him out? He wondered whether the watch was in fact set on him by the General: he would not put it past the man. What would the General's reaction be should the man be found poisoned or have his throat slit? He kept any trace of these thoughts off his face: for now they were idle wonderings. For now he had no reason to tangle with the General. Besides, the man had an advantage of many puppets at his beck and call, while Hunter had to act on his own.

"Proven advances, yes, but we take things more slowly. Possibly too slowly - the Americans and the Germans had been using rifles for a long time. But the Baker rifle is an improvement, and it was perhaps best to wait."

"Considering what opposition there still is, I don't think it would have been feasible before now," Sanders agreed.
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"This evening, preferably as soon after dinner as you can make it."

He had no time to faff about tomorrow morning; the orders for a general review of the troops would be issued within the hour and marching orders soon after that. This mysterious possibly Prussian banker was an unneeded thorn in his side.

Edrington looked at Sanders. "If we had started earlier, the opposition may have been overcome sooner. Look at today: the rest of the infantry will have a much better opinion of the Rifles after this - which does not mean that all will be easy," he said, not wishing to tempt fate.

"It is not so much the infantry's opposition," said Sanders, handing back the Girandoni. "It is the ones that have not seen the effects that rifles can have that are the problem, and they are the ones that will not see it."

He of course referred to those at home back in England.

"But a few successes will surely soon change their tune."

Hunter resisted the great urge to give the General a butler's bow.

'Very good, sir.' He glanced over to Edrington and Sanders, who seemed to have finished playing with the gun. Hunter had no time for guns: he could never hit a target further away than ten paces, which was laughable. It annoyed him, considering his ability to throw a dagger and get his target almost every time.

'May I be dismissed, sir?'

Edrington drew in the corners of his mouth. "But soon those old buffers will be us, and we will be all for the introduction of rifles... Unfortunately, the world will have moved on, and we ought to be promoting Congreve's Rockets, or something we as yet haven't dreamed of."

Sanders grimaced.

"Not unless Congreve's Rockets suddenly develop an uncanny accuracey and hit their targets no less than ninety-five per cent of the time, I think not. Though by the time we are old buffers they may have acheived it. Who knows?"

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Wellesley gave Hunter a weary glance.

"Really, Hunter, you need not sound like a junior ensign anymore. A request to be excused will suffice. And yes, I don't mind if you excuse yourself - just as long as you can usually be found."

'Considering you treat me like a piece of dirt that had an audacity to get stuck to your shiny boot, not even an ensign,' thought George, 'it just comes out naturally'.

'I am sorry, sir, and thank you, sir,' he really, really wanted to give a bow now, but restrained himself, keeping his face straight. 'I shall make the arrangements presently. Good day, sir.'

He had to see a man about a horse, and then the man who was the reason for him even bothering with the animal. He'll send Fernao to track von Dorn down, the boy was hanging around somewhere here anyway.

"Good day, Hunter."

He could not understand that boy, Wellesley thought. There was still too much about him he did not know, and he had the annoying habit of wandering off without telling anyone where he might be found - and then wondering why everyone got annoyed with him.

He turned to see that Sanders had finished his go with the Girandoni, and walked back over to the small knot of officers surrounding Edrington.

"A successful afternoon, my lord?"

[OOC: Bath time.]

Edrington acknowledged Wellesley's arrival "Very successful, I think, Sir. Everything went well, and no one was shot - for which I am very grateful. But we won't know whether it was truly successful until later. We hoped it will foster mutual understanding." He smiled tightly. "But everyone has had a pleasant day, and seen some fine shooting."

George left, a smile touching his lips: he has not had this much fun for months. A game of cat and mouse, where the ultimate price he might have to pay was his life, was always that much better for having a most worthy opponent. Not that he was going to let the General know that he was a mouse to be caught: he had a sneaking suspicion that this was the one man who might win the game against him. But then, the body count of his victims no doubt was a little longer than that of the General. And he did not count enemy soldiers as victims.

A smile quirked at the corners of Wellesley's mouth.

"Yes, I ran into the victor from the shooting competition just now. I asked him to pass on my compliments to Captain Vickery, whereas I am able to pass my own onto you."

He eyed the Girandoni cautiously, as if at any moment he expected it to rear up and bite him. Sanders caught the look and smiled cheerfully.

"Would you care for a go, sir?" he asked dutifully. "It is certainly a most extraordinary weapon."

Wellesley directed an arch look at the captain. Sanders knew full well that it would be inappropriate to do so, and secondly what a rotten shot he was with a gun.

"I do not doubt it, Sanders, but I think on that I should rather pass," he said delicately. "That I shall happily leave to the experts."

"You are probably wise - after seeing Lieutenant Jaeger - one of Captain Vickery's officers - and Cotton, I am disinclined to try it myself." There were still people watching, although now the spectacle was of senior officers talking, not riflemen firing a new kind of gun.

"And thank you for your compliments, though the arrangements were in the hands of your Captain Hunter, who set it all up with Vickery and Sharpe. I simply have to look as if I am charge."

"That is often the most important part," Wellesley said, smiling at Edrington. "Though rest assured I shall mention it to Hunter when he next stands still."

The other staff officers all smiled at that. Hunter had already got himself reputation for his restlessness and foolhardy escapades that he was fast heading for an unofficial nickname of either Captain Fearless or Fidget Hunter.