expression; Ian assumed that the corporal wasn’t. “Why it—well, it certainly put the captain in a fit about me. I’ll be lucky if I ever manage to get him to only partially loathe me at this rate.”
“Dispositions change, through time and circumstances.”
Ian had a strong urge to remark that the captain was an idiot, but even given Corporal Wesshire’s consistent demeanor, he didn’t feel safe with such an assertion.
Stop it, Ian kicked himself. What good would it do anyway, to voice his petty opinions?
“That’s an interesting definition of foolishness,” Ian said instead. “I’d never thought about it like that. Especially, I guess, in terms of the goals one ought to have, instead of what goals one picks.”
The other looked at him, but didn’t say anything.
Ian frowned at the ground as the corporal turned back again. Ian tried to take a bite of his rations but found it difficult. Aside from his headache and general fatigue he felt relatively good, but his appetite would no doubt take a bit longer to recover.
“So what is it you’re looking forward to on this trip?” Ian asked.
A ghost of a smile passed over the corporal’s face. “Perhaps the same as you. Duty, to those deserving it—”
Ian snickered, feeling a great relief wash over him.
“—and the opportunities that will be available.” The corporal paused.
“ If we have any luck about it,” Ian said, glancing behind him, “since even the best of circumstances can ruined—well, we’ll see.”
The corporal paused again, and started a little more slowly. “Yes, there is always great space for opportunities to be mismanaged. There have been many instances of military tours with even greater promise squandered … to nothing.”
Ian rubbed at his temple, greatly hoping that all this conflict in his head would be gone by tomorrow. “Really?”
Corporal Wesshire finished his rations, finding something distasteful in the last end of it and tossing it off to the side. He leaned against the stone beside him with his arms crossed, regarding Ian in a nearly open-looking manner.
“At Barlund,” Corporal Wesshire went on, “there was talk of a colonel who was tasked with moving the archduke’s special materials after the end of the war—an easy assignment with the full assurance of promotion and expedited transfers for his men.”
“Yes?” Ian asked, trying not to look down at the bit of food near the corporal’s heel.
“The task,” the corporal said, “which was trusted to only take a week took twice that because he dithered. Both because he didn’t know how to manage it and because he spent most of it as cause to boast with his local acquaintances.”
Ian tried to think why he should be feeling so uneasy.
“Needless to say,” Corporal Wesshire said, “he was lucky to have been able to boast to those local acquaintances because those were the only acquaintances he was to have.”
“ Really,” Ian said, trying to think.
“A general at Haxsby,” the corporal said, “couldn’t take the city that should’ve been taken. An admiral at Norgard, a lord at Hampenshire. The branches are full of officers who have seen their opportunity come and not stay long.”
“Yes,” Ian said, trying to hold back his bitterness as he rubbed at his temple, “it would be a pity if the same were to happen to us. I’m almost afraid that it might.”
“Our captain is very accomplished,” Corporal Wesshire said, his voicing lowering just slightly.
Ian looked back to make sure the others were a good deal away, their attentions elsewhere.
“He has been many places,” Arran said, “but …”
I shouldn’t listen, Ian thought to himself in a small, far off voice, as though it was with the rest of the company, laughing about something else in the distance.
“… Some have said that he has come to some trouble,” Arran said, staring at Ian with a low and friendly face. “His posting was very favorable, but he mishandled
“Dispositions change, through time and circumstances.”
Ian had a strong urge to remark that the captain was an idiot, but even given Corporal Wesshire’s consistent demeanor, he didn’t feel safe with such an assertion.
Stop it, Ian kicked himself. What good would it do anyway, to voice his petty opinions?
“That’s an interesting definition of foolishness,” Ian said instead. “I’d never thought about it like that. Especially, I guess, in terms of the goals one ought to have, instead of what goals one picks.”
The other looked at him, but didn’t say anything.
Ian frowned at the ground as the corporal turned back again. Ian tried to take a bite of his rations but found it difficult. Aside from his headache and general fatigue he felt relatively good, but his appetite would no doubt take a bit longer to recover.
“So what is it you’re looking forward to on this trip?” Ian asked.
A ghost of a smile passed over the corporal’s face. “Perhaps the same as you. Duty, to those deserving it—”
Ian snickered, feeling a great relief wash over him.
“—and the opportunities that will be available.” The corporal paused.
“ If we have any luck about it,” Ian said, glancing behind him, “since even the best of circumstances can ruined—well, we’ll see.”
The corporal paused again, and started a little more slowly. “Yes, there is always great space for opportunities to be mismanaged. There have been many instances of military tours with even greater promise squandered … to nothing.”
Ian rubbed at his temple, greatly hoping that all this conflict in his head would be gone by tomorrow. “Really?”
Corporal Wesshire finished his rations, finding something distasteful in the last end of it and tossing it off to the side. He leaned against the stone beside him with his arms crossed, regarding Ian in a nearly open-looking manner.
“At Barlund,” Corporal Wesshire went on, “there was talk of a colonel who was tasked with moving the archduke’s special materials after the end of the war—an easy assignment with the full assurance of promotion and expedited transfers for his men.”
“Yes?” Ian asked, trying not to look down at the bit of food near the corporal’s heel.
“The task,” the corporal said, “which was trusted to only take a week took twice that because he dithered. Both because he didn’t know how to manage it and because he spent most of it as cause to boast with his local acquaintances.”
Ian tried to think why he should be feeling so uneasy.
“Needless to say,” Corporal Wesshire said, “he was lucky to have been able to boast to those local acquaintances because those were the only acquaintances he was to have.”
“ Really,” Ian said, trying to think.
“A general at Haxsby,” the corporal said, “couldn’t take the city that should’ve been taken. An admiral at Norgard, a lord at Hampenshire. The branches are full of officers who have seen their opportunity come and not stay long.”
“Yes,” Ian said, trying to hold back his bitterness as he rubbed at his temple, “it would be a pity if the same were to happen to us. I’m almost afraid that it might.”
“Our captain is very accomplished,” Corporal Wesshire said, his voicing lowering just slightly.
Ian looked back to make sure the others were a good deal away, their attentions elsewhere.
“He has been many places,” Arran said, “but …”
I shouldn’t listen, Ian thought to himself in a small, far off voice, as though it was with the rest of the company, laughing about something else in the distance.
“… Some have said that he has come to some trouble,” Arran said, staring at Ian with a low and friendly face. “His posting was very favorable, but he mishandled
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