URMAGURD Finally! I'm out of school so I was finally able to finish this little heathen! Anyways, Chapter 7 is now officially, finally here and I am SOOOO sorry for the long wait. But here it is. Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing and no one except the throw in characters, Charles and Stephen. I also own the main character Anne. THAT'S IT.


Chapter 7: The Fun Begins

All of us went into the company the very next day in the most ungodly hour possible. It was still dark outside when we were awakened from our slumber by the sounds of soldiers yelling at each other to get up. Alfred and I groggily sat up while both Stephen and Charles got up with little to no effort. I was amazed at their clear will-power. I was about ready to get back to sleep. As I looked around, I saw that both Charles and Stephen were rolling up the blankets… But the third bedroll was missing. The middle-aged soldier must've awoken earlier than us, which was a surprise considering he got less sleep than we did. I groaned softly as I leaned down and rubbed my eyes. But Stephen kicked my leg.

"Well come on then! We got a company to get into. Though I'd happily leave you here if you like," he snickered at me and stepped out of the tent. Charles simply stood up and walked to the flap.

"It's best you both get up… The sleepers are generally left behind without second thought…" he said and walked out. With that, I hauled myself off the bedroll, rolled it up, carried it in my arm and went out to put it into one of the wagons outside. When I stepped out, cold air hit my face like a back-handed slap, making me squint and blink my eyes to keep them from watering. I looked around to see fires being put out despite the dark and cold, soldiers groggily walking out of their tents, some only just waking up and others still sleeping heavily unknowing of the fact that in just a few moments, they'd awaken later to realize they were all alone.

"Join with your companies according to your Captain or First Sergeant! Come on, get a move on!" I heard the Lieutenant General's voice thunder throughout the camp. I said nothing, despite the fact a horrid feeling of fright coursed through me at that very moment. Alfred too, I believe, stiffened next to me. Charles went to us.

"Well are you going to go find your company or not?" he said with an unimpressed look. I lifted my eyes to him and then looked at the soldiers finding their commanders. I looked at him.

"What company are you in?" I asked him. He nodded towards a figure a little ways off.

"Captain Arthur Kirkland's… Both Stephen and I… I think Mortan is going to the company of First Sergeant Heyworth. So we won't see much of him…" My heart flip-flopped again. Great, not only was I under Arthur's command I was also going to be under his command with these two men. Charles I didn't mind too much.

Stephen however…

"Mortan?" I asked him with a quirked brow. Charles smiled a bit.

"The middle-aged man that was in the tent with us. The one who seemed a bit… off…" he said chuckling a little. I then remembered that soldier again, from the fact I saw his bedroll was gone. With that came another question.

"Did he get up earlier than we did?" Charles shrugged.

"Well I'd expect so… He always does generally, either because he really didn't get any sleep at all or he's a naturally early riser. I for one think it isn't the latter… Mortan is too grumpy to seem like he is getting any sleep."

"Why is he still a Private if he's graying? Shouldn't he be one of the senior officers if that's the case?" I inquired curiously. Charles looked at me with a skeptical eye.

"You ask too many questions…" he said. I shrugged.

"An unfortunate quirk I have. Please answer my last one and I just might not ask any more," I calmly stated. Charles suddenly laughed which was confusing.

"A soldier with manners… Who ever heard of a thing like that?" he asked himself. "Well, anyways, he joined the army only recently, for what reason no one really knows. He just showed up out of no where and enlisted. He doesn't talk to anyone except to grouse though. Nothing more. And this sounds like something Stephen would say, but just a bitter bloke like a lot of men here…" he said, walking away to the company. I followed behind him and joined in the same line as he.

"What are we doing now?" Alfred asked Charles.

"So many questions… Too many… We are getting our first step in training… Marching," he said.

"Then why are we bringing our belongings and weapons?" I asked. Charles at this point rolled his eyes and instead, the man named Stephen shoved himself on the opposite side of Charles, next to Alfred and I, and pitched in.

"Well there's two reasons, see! One, is so that you two can man up and get a taste of the journeys of soldiers, with packs, muskets and all, and see if 'we' in Arthur's perspective being his company also known as us and 'we' from my perspective being you, can handle it. Two is because we are moving out to a different position due to the fact a French battalion also seems to be moving into that direction. My guess is we'll evade them there, and when the company is ready, we'll finally see a battle and go back and bloody up every French bastard there is in that area," he snickered and slung his things over his shoulder, looking mighty pleased with himself. I almost rolled my eyes but I heard Arthur's voice ring over the company from the horse he was riding at the front of it.

"ATTEN-TION!" he cried and immediately, every man in the company shut up. There was a pause and the other company commanders cried out as well to order their own lines. Then finally the Lieutenant General of the battalion came forward and rode across the lines and bellowed loudly for all to hear.

"ORDER. ARMS!" we brought our muskets up to lean straight against our shoulders, all in an orderly fashion, at the same time. They were friggin' heavy… Plus our stuff made us feel even more like pack mules. The Lieutenant General bellowed again when that was over.

"PRESENT. COLORS!" flags flew up, company after company, the sound of unfurling fabrics billowing in the air reaching my ears. We sighed. Anytime this year would've been nice…

"COMPANY. FOR-WARD. MARCH!" came the scattered cries of the Captains. The drums pounded finally, ringing out the marching cadence as we stepped out with the left, right, left ringing in our heads, making sure we were all staying in step. I took this opportunity to turn and speak with Charles.

"Is it always like this?" I asked.

"What in the bloody hell do you think, just shut up and march…!" Stephen hissed. Charles looked at me with a gaze that said 'it's alright, but do as he says'. I sighed and marched alongside my brother, ignoring the weight upon my shoulders. I had a tough time staying in step and keeping up with my line glancing to the right to keep my guiding. And my heart nearly stopped when I heard hoof beats alongside us and a stern voice.

"OI!" I heard Arthur. Shit… "Keep in line! Stay in step! Guide! March right or I beat you with a stick later! Got it?" No answer. Not from me. I was practically stiff as far as my upper body went and I kept my head down to hide the features of my face.. "You there!" he called out to me. For a minute I thought he recognized me. "Answer!"

"Aye, sir!" I called out in the most boyish voice I could muster and got into step and caught up with Charles. When Arthur was satisfied he rode a little up ahead to the front line. I let out a long sigh of relief. Phew… He didn't recognize me. I heard Stephen snicker next to us.

"Shut up…" Alfred grumbled to him. I turned to Charles and whispered.

"That… was a little scary…" I said.

"Welcome to the British Army…" he replied. Stephen snickered and turned to look at me.

"That is commonly called the 'boot-to-ass' technique. If you don't do as he says, boot… meet ass. Now you'll do as he says," He snickered. I almost laughed at the way he said ass. It sounded more like ahss. Ain't I mature…

"Soldier!" I heard Arthur call to Stephen. Stephen stiffened.

"Yes, sir…" he muttered.

"What was that?" Arthur called out sternly.

"Yes, sir!…" Stephen called out a little louder.

"What's your name?"

"Private Stephen Lambton, sir!"

"Hm, Private Lambton- Shut it and march!" Arthur ordered and rode ahead. Alfred sputtered as he tried to hold in a laugh. I too, smiled a little as well as Charles. Stephen scowled and was silent for the rest of the journey.


It took three days for us to finally arrive to our destination. And by then, my feet were throbbing with a terrible pain that felt like a thousand needles tearing through my foot from the inside, a pain that I felt I could hardly bear. On the first day of the march, by nightfall, I did not want to walk any longer. But for our two hour sleep, I was so immersed in rest's comforting embrace that my eyes did not stay open and the thought did not even come to mind to take off the boots cutting into my heels. I did the same on the second night.

For that, I paid dearly…

Not only was the lack of sleep taking its toll beneath my eyes, placing dark, tired shadows upon my skin, but my feet felt horrid. My middles of my feet were sore, my heels felt like the bearers of needles and knives and every other sharp object, and my toes felt numb at this point. But like usual, I kept my mouth shut during the march even when at one point I almost fell to my knees.

"Corporal, are you able to go on?" Arthur called out to me once, inquiring upon the way I had been limping through the land. I was so tempted to say 'no' but to avoid being seen by Arthur and given away (plus not having to endure Stephen's giving his share of grief to me), I quickly said, "Yes sir" and with one last skeptical look, Arthur rode ahead again. I also wasn't to keen on the idea of being left behind to die, should this army not be the type to provide a horse to one who cannot walk. Most likely they weren't… Supplies and transportation had limits.

I was joyously relieved when we finally had arrived. Thank the Lord for good fortune! I almost fell on my knees to praise Jesus for a second.

I fell out of ranks when our men were ordered to do so and immediately I walked away and sat down, gritting my teeth and not even wanting to touch my feet. Ever. Alfred saw this and walked over to me. He'd taken off his boots on the first and second nights so he looked fine. Yes, his feet were sore, but I would've been willing to bet that he didn't hurt nearly so much as I. I looked up at him.

"Your musket loaded?" I asked him. Alfred kneeled down to me.

"Mmhm," he nodded.

"Good, please shoot me with it…" I said and I looked down at my feet. Alfred looked down at them.

"That bad…?" he knew me well enough to know that it took a lot for me to feel like that. Soon afterwards, one more familiar and unwelcome voice presented itself.

"Oi! What are you doing? We need to set up camp why are you just sitting there you lazy rats!" called out Stephen, the out-crower of all. I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"Wonderful…" I muttered and he walked over, kneeling with both Alfred and me, looking at me with expectant eyes.

"Well, you gonna get up?" He said in an annoyed tone.

"… I can't," I said. I wasn't lying… I almost fell down multiple times during the march. I was not getting up. Apparently, that wasn't a good answer. Stephen stood up and kicked my leg. Following that came a surprising sight.

Alfred got up and grabbed Stephen by the collar of his coat and growled at him lowly.

"You touch my… brother… again… And I'll kill you…" he hissed. In his anger, he almost forgot to not call me his sister. Stephen too looked surprised.

"What's going on here!" I heard Arthur's voice ring across the place to us as he walked this way.

"They're being good-for-nothing's and not helping to set up camp!" Stephen said. Alfred shook him.

"He can't walk, you moron!" he snapped.

"Stand down!" Arthur ordered and there was a long silence. Alfred looked at Stephen one last time before grudgingly letting go of him and backing away, being sure to lower his head so Arthur wouldn't see his face.

"… Do I know you?" Arthur asked with a quirked brow upon further scrutiny of my brother. I could see his muscles tense and I panicked. Both of us did. As soon as Arthur found out who we were, we were dead! I knowing him, with his kind of temper, he'd skin me and Alfred alive. Alfred was at a loss of what to say and so I spoke for him.

"He and I are brothers, Captain…" I said. Arthur turned his attention to me. I kept my head down but continued to speak in a well-practiced youthful boy's voice. "Inseparable… Where he goes I go, and the other way around. If he had ever known you, I would know you too and let me tell you that I sincerely do not recall us ever meeting you before the call to war against the French…" I finished and said nothing more. Arthur quirked a brow and paused before I heard the crunch of leaves being crushed beneath his steps coming closer and closer to me until I saw the folds of his red soldier's coat splaying across the ground as he kneeled down.

"… I don't believe I addressed you, Corporal…" he said sternly. I scoffed. It was hard not to when I knew the real Arthur behind the soldier's façade.

"You didn't address me… But I address you anyway… My brother Bentley is a bit of a tongue-tied man when it comes to the higher ranks. So I've made a habit of sometimes speaking for him," I ignored the glare I got from Alfred for stealing his thunder. Arthur quirked a brow at me.

"… Let me see your feet. Your brother said you couldn't walk…. I'll be the judge of that…" he murmured a little lowly. As if there was something interesting that he was noticing as he spoke with me. I tried to ignore it… I winced as I put my hands on my boots and started to pull the left off, then the other… My toes were red and my feet were absolutely filthy from the walk. "Turn them…" he said so far not seeing anything. I turned them to reveal my heels. My eyes widened when I saw huge, red, swollen, bleeding blisters on them. Arthur too stared at the ugly marks and then looked at my hunched form.

"… Bandage those feet… If you can, help pitch camp. If not, then sit down and wait," he nodded and stood again. I in return suppressed a sigh of relief as he turned to Alfred and gave him orders on what to do to pitch the camp before leaving to supervise everyone else.

Alfred and I looked at each other and one gaze was all it took for both of us to know what the other was thinking: Thank. The. Lord.


My favorite part of the whole thing? The shooting range, where Arthur took us to be trained in firing a musket. Little did he know that he had already trained me many times in shooting one in the woods not far from the Kirkland manor back at home. Little did he know that he also trained 'Bentley' Jones a thousand times alongside me.

Despite my feet being covered in blisters completely, I still walked with the company to the shooting range to train up on our skills with muskets. I wouldn't dare to miss such a thing. If anyone knew me at all, they would know full well that I was happiest when I was aiming a weapon to a target. I liked everything other girls didn't. I liked the feel of a gun tucked in my arms or gripped in my hands. I liked the satisfaction I got whenever I had hit a target dead-on. There was no way I was missing gun-training.

"You're crazy! You're feet are gonna kill you if you keep walking on 'em like that…" Alfred had said. I looked up at him and replied coolly.

"When have I ever missed shooting practice?"

Arthur too was surprised. He had recognized me as the Corporal with the messed up feet from before. So he too inquired upon my walking the next day after pitching camp on his own way to the range.

"Corporal, you sure you can walk on those feet of yours?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I had replied simply, joining Charles, Alfred and Stephen with the rest of the company. Charles had nothing to say. Stephen as per usual sneered at me… I was pretty sure he was doing that because I had sat down the rest of the day when we had first arrived and only now was I walking.

Scarecrows lined the range, dressed in the French coats (probably stolen off of dead men), motionless and waiting for the musket fire. I smiled. Nothing pleased me more than practicing skill with guns. All of the company lined up, muskets tucked into their arms, ready to be shot. I was already preparing my gunpowder as Arthur called out what to do. I wasn't even paying attention, I already knew how to do it.

Alfred was following my lead and already readying the weapon within his hands, filling it with powder and smiling. Eventually in our loading, Arthur finally got to the point.

"I want accuracy! I want the shots to be precise! Remember!… Aim small, miss small!" he said before putting himself to the side of the company line. "MAKE READY!" he called. All of us lifted our guns and positioned the buttes against the sides of our chests. It felt odd to position a gun on the chest I had strapped down. Apparently, I had momentarily forgotten that I was posing as a young, British boy. "AIM!" came the next call. I closed one eye and carefully planned my shot, a deep, smooth breath inhaling and exhaling from my chest. Relaxed… I was aiming for the head... Keep steady... I told myself. Aim small, miss small... I repeated over and over. Aim small miss small...

Anticipation rose over the company as silence strained between the calls. We waited for our order, some anxiously, and some nervously, for they had not yet actually used a gun other than to hunt. I fidgeted in my position, the very crunching of the leaves beneath ringing in my ears. Until finally…

"…. FIRE!" came the call that was soon drowned out by the crackling thunder of the muskets as the triggers were pulled. Powder wisped around the clearing following the shots.. I grinned as I saw stuffing fly from the head of the scarecrow I had aimed for just before my sight was blurred by the white clouds of gunsmoke. Gotcha…

Straw flew from the chest of the scarecrow shot by Alfred. I looked at him and grinned, nodding. He did the same, snickering with pride in his good hit. Charles said nothing. He simply shot and waited for the next call.

"RELOAD!" we all quickly as we could reloaded the muskets with fresh powder and new bullets. I was now excited. Adrenaline rushed through me.

"READY! AIM!" came the second calls. We did as commanded, squirming in our positions, wanting to see how well we could do again. Here goes...

"FIRE!" came the call. More thunderous bursts of powder as shots were taken. More stuffing flew from the head of the scarecrow I aimed for. I looked at Alfred's shot and saw straw falling from the scarecrow's groin. That would have been comical…

But it was then I noticed the frozen expression of Alfred's face. The urgency of the other soldiers as they turned from one to the other filled the air around me. I heard more loud shots cracking into my ears… But this rung from the trees. A chill went through my entire body as the drowned out cry of Arthur's telling us to get out of range echoed desperately across the field. Blood roared in my ears and turned to ice within my veins. I grabbed Alfred's hand and stood up in panic and confusion. What was happening...?!

Gunfire everywhere. Not ours, I knew that for sure. It was only when a bullet whizzed by me and hit Stephen, who was running behind me, in the chest when I fell down on the ground with Alfred next to me. It was only when blood sprayed onto my face and grass when I realized with horror that we were no longer the ones firing the guns… The enemy had found the British camp.

And they were firing at us…


DUN DUN DUNN... The arrival of LE FRENCH! what will happen next? Find out in the next Chapter! Hopefully it will be posted 1 to 2 weeks from now. Aka deadline being either 6/3/13 to 6/10/13. Look out for it!

Also, go visit my profile to get the link to my facebook fan page! :)