25th May evening, An officer's duty

To my Darling Sophie... he began penning his daily letter to his wife. It was almost instinctive that once the daily affairs of camp were in order he would begin writing to his wife. Not much had changed since the last he had written her. The army was still encamped, the French were still on the run, and he still had no new orders (not that he could tell her if he did). The children were fine, Friedrich Augustus was following his father and writing a letter to his mother while Karl Wilhelm was examining the newer British 9 pound guns that had arrived. It was getting rather routine, but Friedrich loved the army life. Hopefully on this new campaign his abilities would be recognized and his promotion would be earned. It bothered him greatly that he was still only a colonel. If he had access to the resources that his younger brother did and was not trying to maintain his family, Augustus might have raised his own army to fight Napoleon. He sighed at the conclusion of his letter. He longed to see his wife but also wished to stay on the field.

With his letter concluded and his affairs in order he went outside for a stroll with his sons. Karl Wilhelm had out paper for notes, taking careful examinations of camp equipment and guns. Colonel Friedrich sometimes had to burn some of his son's papers for fear that some might accuse him of being a French spy since so much was documented. Some might say the battlefield is no place for children, but Friedrich had been in the army since he was very young and felt that this is where men got their true education.

[Open]

Their camp was made and the horses were fed. The men ate their own meagre fare as quickly as they could to avoid noticing the lack of flavour. Afterward, it was down to cleaning tack and repairing uniforms. That was until Kenley produced a battered, floppy leather ball from his saddle bag. For a long moment, the troop gazed at each other in silent conversation, then there was a unified rush to saddle their horses.

Kenley, by virtue of fore-planning, had his horse ready. It was a simple task for him to leap into the saddle and spur off, safely out of reach for the moment. "Come on, you slow-movin' beggars," he called cheerfully, tossing the ball from hand to hand as if he was bored.

"Slow-movin' nothin'!" Stubbins called back, hurriedly tightening his mare's girth. The horses sensed their masters' excitement and were stamping their hooves eagerly. Any action, even in play, was welcome to them as well as to the troopers.

With a whoop, Forbes touched his heels back and his horse sprang forward into a canter, closing the distance with Kenley. The others were not far behind him. Kenley wheeled his gelding to retreat. The game was on.

Kerr, usually most interested in the fairer sex, and most commonly found chatting with the women if at all possible, made it into his saddle with a fair amount of speed. A game was too good a thing to pass up, and Kenley's challenge was something no Hussar would let be.

"Come on you old hag, we'll have him before you get to yank your shirt down." He called to Williamson who had been slow to put his things away. The man grinned and ran, dressed equally in only a shirt, with his dolman and his pelisse left behind. It lay in a pile which was far from orderly.

"You want to bet?" The man asked, and yanked at the horse's reins, freeing them. Kerr was already spurring his horse forward, barely avoiding trampling Thorne. The eldest of the lot, probably, had been no less able to act as a child, heading off to fetch his own horse.

"You younglings ain't going to get close when I get that ball!" He smirked, and jabbed at the horse's sides he turned the animal about in a loud thumping of hooves, and looked towards their lost Hussar. "Ey chap, gennletalk, we ain't going to wait for Your Highness to get off his arse."

Willoughby hadn't been right on the slow side, but Herrero seemed to have a different idea, and reared rather than advanced when the lad got onto his back. With a smack on the rump, the horse broke off into a canter, raising dust, dirt, muddy water and throwing grass up behind them.

Kenley ducked to the left, in a sharp turn then spurred his horse onward, seeing the riders close in behind him. "Those leggies would've been faster, just walking than you lot." He called to them, lifting the ball high into the air, as if presenting the prize, before, with a laugh tucked it under his arm.

OOC - This may be a good point for Friedrich to reappear?

IC -

"Flank him!" Corporal Tunney cried, racing ahead to cut Kenley off. Two troopers followed him while the others fanned out on the field beside the road.

Stubbins waved a hand in the air. "Kenley! Here!"

The ball-carrier checked his horse's forward progress, turned the mare's head, and spurred her on again, deftly throwing off his pursuit. He saw Stubbins and gave the ball a heave toward him. Stubbins swiftly knotted his reins so they wouldn't drag too low, choosing to guide his horse with his knees and legs only. The leather ball spiralled down into his up-stretched hands.

Almost immediately, the line of troopers shifted toward him. Stubbins kicked his horse forward with a laugh. He had the ball now, which meant they'd have to catch.

"Mind the foot-sloggers!" Somebody called, wheeling his horse away from a gaggle of soldiers near the edge of the road. To hell with the foot-sloggers, Stubbins thought as he flung the ball toward Forbes. This was a cavalry game.