Headquarters

George said nothing, waiting for the Doctor to take some sort of action.

Stephen looked back. "Ah, I am sorry, I was waiting for you to deal with your cloak. I believe the kitchens are this way - there will be bread at least."

[OOC: Rofl, I am an idiot. XD]

George gave the cloak to the first passing soldier with the instructions on where to put it and followed Stephen to the kitchens, where he had breakfasted and dined yesterday.

Stephen raised his eyebrows but said nothing; remaining inside with the cloak was hot, but he hoped it would save his clothes for a little while at least.

The kitchen was full of officers running in and out - some were packing food for the march, but some were, like themselves, trying to claim some breakfast before returning to their duties. Stephen had pulled his hood down upon meeting Hunter, but was glad of his spectacles as he looked around.

Since it was Fernao who was now responsible for procuring food, Hunter expected him to be somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen, and indeed he soon spotted him in the corner, trying to hide a big basket behind his back.

Stephen was being elbowed from both sides, to get in and to get out, and the kitchen was a seething tangle of legs, swords and cloaks. "Excuse me-"

'This is definitely not a place to be this morning,' muttered George giving a murderous look to a man who nearly pushed him over. Weaving through the crowd he took the basket with food from Fernao, then telling the boy to follow him came back to Stephen. 'Why don't we leave before we are flattened?'

"Ah, you managed to get some," Stephen said with a smile,. "Oh, there you are, dear boy!" This to Fernao, who he finally saw in the throng. "Yes, we are quite in the way, I think."

George maneuvered back into the corridor followed by Fernao, where the latter heaved a sigh of relief and the former muttered something unpleasant about crowds.

Stephen slipped out with Hunter. "Is it always so busy?"

'In the kitchens? Not that I have noticed. I suppose it must be the effect of finally having a building big enough to accommodate all the men assigned to Staff." George began walking down the corridor seeking a room that would hopefully be empty enough for the three of them to have some sort of breakfast.

"is it a very great number of men? On Wellesley's staff?"

'It's actually comparatively small. There are the ADCs, the Military Secretary, the Adjutant-General, and the Quartermaster-General. Then the commanding officers of the Engineers and the Artillery, the officers in charge of Staff Corps Cavalry and the Provost Marshal.' He paused. 'And of course, the Medical, Purveyor's, Paymaster-General's, Commissariat's, Army Account's and Storekeeper General's offices. Of course, not all reside in the same building.'

"My word," said Stephen, trying to remember the string of unfamiliar names - he had a prodigious memory, but he was quite new to the workings of the army. "And I assume you are the links between the General and all these other staff members?"

'Well, I would not say so exactly. From what I know of Sir Arthur, he prefers to deal with the various department heads and commanding officers directly. Most ADCs are nothing more than glorified secretaries.'

"I do not envy you, sir - a moving army must generate a mountain of paperwork," said Stephen, looking around the bustling corridor. Hunter gave the impression of competence, but with a learned nonchalence. "How long have you worked for Sir Arthur?"

'Not above ten days, Doctor.' Finally they came to an out of the way parlour, that seemed miraculously deserted. Fernao deposited the basket onto the table gratefully.

"Ten days?" Stephen asked in astonishment as they stepped into the room. "I would have expected months at least; who were you ADC to before?"

'No one. I was a simple infantry officer.' George pulled up an extra chair to the table, so that the three of them could sit.

"You are a prodigy, Captain Hunter," said Stephen with a smile.

'No, sir, I have simply been lucky, it would seem, in having the friends that I do.' George lowered his voice, muttering: 'Or unlucky.'

"Oh?" was all that Stephen said, a curious and sympathetic expression on his face; if Hunter did not wish to elaborate, he would not have to.

George looked at Stephen, a smile appearing on his face: 'But then the story of my appointment and the speculations of how it came about would surely be told to you soon enough by one or the other.. if they haven't been told already.' George pulled a chair out for the Doctor. 'Why don't we sit down and have some breakfast, finally?'

Fernao dropped himself onto a chair and began pulling food out of the basket.

"I find such things are generally best heard from the person they concern," said Stephen, but he smiled and took the seat. "Thank you, Fernao. I do not believe I thanked you properly for all your help yesterday either."

'Oh, it was nothing, sir.' Answered Fernao cheerfully, beginning to slice the bread.

George picked up a small, ugly looking apple, that nevertheless wintered without being spoiled and toyed with it.
'Well, Doctor, in all honesty, my own story would be filled with speculation, since the only thing that I am sure of, are the orders from Horse Guards that bade me to this post.'