A/N: You guessed it – we're back at the rebel encampment!

A Corporal's Duty

Two Corporals waited on horseback at the drawbridge of Lord Ivor's manor house, utterly bored. One turned to the other. "So, Ghalio. What do you think she'll look like?"

The younger Corporal shrugged. "I don't know, Padric."

The other officer, Padric, raised an eyebrow. "You're not even the slightest bit interested in what our King's bride-to-be will look like?"

Ghalio sighed. "Frankly I don't care. I didn't know my first mission as a Corporal of the Royal Guard was going to be playing messenger-boy for the Kingdom's future Queen."

"Somebody's feeling grumpy today," noted Padric mildly.

The other Corporal ignored him. "Why is the Lieutenant taking so long?" he muttered, shifting in his saddle and turning his dark eyes up to the sky. "If we want to make the next posting by nightfall, he'd better hurry up."

"Well you're in luck," said Padric, motioning towards the gate. Ghalio looked up, and found himself momentarily speechless.

Riding across the drawbridge beside Lieutenant Vansen was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her hair spilled out in rich black waves from under the hood of her cloak. As she and the Lieutenant drew level with them, Ghalio marvelled at her sparkling eyes, her delicate gloved hands. He was overcome with admiration and desire.

Vansen's voice interrupted his reverie. "Lady Irabel," the Lieutenant was saying. "Corporals Padric and Ghalio will be accompanying us to Belisaere."

Ghalio managed a nod, but as Vansen and Lady Irabel rode on ahead, he knew that he had just laid eyes on the perfect woman. And that only happened once in a lifetime.

Striding through the encampment with his fists clenched tight, Ghalio paused by the wall and smashed his hand against one of the wooden posts. He cursed savagely under his breath, not caring if anyone saw or heard him. For letting Madran go free Ciprian had been reprimanded – not even punished – and Ghalio was utterly furious. Allowing an enemy officer to slip away was thoughtless and stupid, and Betrys would have instantly demoted any other Lieutenant. Ciprian should at least have chopped off Madran's hands to revenge Vansen's treatment by the Royal Guard. But Ciprian was the Captain's new favourite, and it would take more than the usual mistakes to remove him from his station.

Ghalio walked on until he met with a thin cloaked figure standing outside of a tent. A reedy voice hailed him: "Evening, Corporal sir."

"Do you have it, Sino?"

Ghalio's Lancepesade passed him a dark bottle from under his cloak. "Sneaked it from the stores," the old man said, and a smile stretched his wrinkled face. "Sergeant Kier won't even notice it's gone."

"Just like the others," said Ghalio to his right-hand man. "Good work, Sino. Is he alone?"

"As always."

Assured on that point, Ghalio made his way towards the outskirts of the encampment, finally coming to a dilapidated little tent tucked into a corner separate from the rest of the rebel force. He rattled the tent-flap. "Lieutenant Vansen? It's Ghalio. May I come in?" He was answered by a muffled grunt and ducked inside.

Captain Betrys' second son was down on his knees, frantically rummaging through his belongings. Ghalio watched with a mixture of contempt and disgust as his previous commanding officer rolled a bottle towards him then pushed it away upon finding it empty. Ever since his demotion Vansen had been an outcast, wallowing in drink and self-pity. His little tent was about as neat as a pigsty, and smelt like one too. But Ghalio hitched a respectful and kind expression onto his face as he knelt beside the other man.

He pulled the bottle out from under his cloak. "Looking for this, Lieutenant?"

Vansen seized the bottle between the bandaged stumps of his arms, pulled the cork out with his teeth, and gulped at the wine as if it were water. Burgundy liquid dribbled down his unshaven chin. When at long last he removed the bottle from his lips, it was half-empty. "Thank you, Ghalio," he said hoarsely. "How'd you get it?"

"A farmer gave it to me when I was on patrol," lied Ghalio easily. "I managed to sneak it past Sergeant Kier. He doesn't suspect me." Ghalio had been bringing Vansen plenty of wine ever since the demotion. Drink had reduced the ex-Lieutenant to something pitiful, but it was what Vansen wanted, so in a way Ghalio was doing him a favour by bringing it to him.

The dark-haired Corporal pulled open the flap of the tent to air it out. "It's after dark, Lieutenant," he said reassuringly. "Nobody can see you." In the light of a smoky lantern he started to clear up the mess, shaking out the bedding and putting empty bottles in a sack to be disposed of properly. Vansen watched him with an air of gloom.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," said Vansen miserably.

"Call you what?"

"Lieutenant," the other man groaned. "It only serves to remind me of what I've lost." His gaze turned to the bandaged stumps of his hands, and Ghalio made a mental note to keep on calling Vansen by his former rank. "I can still feel them sometimes," said the other man quietly, "tingling or even burning, or nails digging into my palms. Drives me mad."

Ghalio looked at the other man out of the corner of his eye as he sorted through clothing to be washed. "Have you talked to Anthone about it?"

Vansen snorted. "Anthone! He's been trying to speak to me, but I don't want his pity. Besides, he's still a Lieutenant. An officer shouldn't waste time on someone like me."

"Is that what I'm doing then?" said Ghalio lightly. "Wasting time?"

A contrite expression flitted over Vansen's face. "I'm sorry, Ghalio. I appreciate your help, I really do. You were a good Corporal."

Ghalio finished straightening the tent and rinsed out two tin cups with water. "Then let us drink like friends," he said, reaching for the purloined bottle and pouring them each a measure. "Things have gotten worse since you were – well – demoted," he remarked, pretending not to notice Vansen's pained expression. "It's maddening to have to serve under my younger cousin."

"You have my sympathy," said the other man. "I wish to the Charter that you had replaced me instead of Ciprian."

"And I wish you'd never been demoted," Ghalio remarked, taking a sip of wine. Vansen winced at the word again, and drained his cup. Ghalio refilled it solicitously. "It really wasn't fair, sir," he said, hitching a sympathetic expression onto his face. "The way I see it, you were doing your duty. You were the only one in this entire stinking camp who had the guts to openly attack a Royal Guard patrol."

Vansen nestled the cup carefully between his bandaged wrists. "Yes, but look where that got me," he said bitterly. "Lieutenant Gamet really thought of a fitting punishment when he caught me. What can I do without my hands, Ghalio? I cannot wield a sword. I cannot cast Charter marks. I cannot even open a door!" Vansen lifted the cup to his lips and messily gulped down the wine. He sniffed and glanced at the half-filled bottle. "Can you get any more?"

"Of course I can," said Ghalio. "As much as you like." Vansen was too miserable to notice the scorn in his voice. The dark-haired Corporal silently watched the other man drink, every so often topping up his cup. Soon Vansen was red-eyed and swaying.

"You don' know how hard 'tis to have no hands," the ex-Lieutenant slurred. He dropped his cup and reached for it with a bandaged stump.

Ghalio picked it up for him. He cradled Vansen's head with one hand, and held the cup to his lips with the other. "All right, all right," he murmured as he helped the other man drink. "Take it easy. I know it must be tough without your hands. But I'll help you, Lieutenant."

Vansen pulled back violently, spilling the rest of the wine. "Don't call me Lieutenant!" he bellowed, falling back against the side of the tent.

Moving forward, Ghalio grabbed the other man by the shoulders and pulled him back up, ignoring his feeble struggles. "I'm sorry," he panted, grappling with Vansen who was drunk and half-wild. "I won't do it again. But – but I don't know why you're angry with me, Vansen – I didn't cut off your hands!" The other man stopped thrashing about and slumped over, crying, and Ghalio felt another wave of contempt for the demoted officer. "You shouldn't be angry with me," he said firmly. "It's King Rothain who is the cause of all this."

Vansen wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "Rothain?"

"Yes," Ghalio said encouragingly. "The King must be overthrown." He was not saying anything out of the ordinary. That type of treasonous talk had become commonplace among the rebels, and Ghalio was merely doing his part to spread it. Day by day he was sowing small seeds of revenge against the King, whom he hated. He didn't think anyone was aware of the extent of his loathing. Not even Sino, or Padric.

"It won't be too long now, either," said Ghalio confidently. He clapped Vansen on the back.

The other man nodded, looking determined for the first time that night. "You're right. My mother has powerful friends at court."

The Corporal's ears perked up. "Like who?" he asked casually.

"I don't know – Lord Ivor maybe. The Queen's father. He was very popular back when mother had that falling-out with the King. Probably still is."

"Lord Ivor..." Ghalio scratched his beard. A plan was starting to fall into place. "I've remained here long enough, Vansen. I ought to be going." He stood up and drew aside the tent flap. "I'll come back in a couple of days with more wine." He stepped out, taking the empty bottles and a bundle of laundry, and before he let the flap fall he couldn't resist adding, "Goodnight, Lieutenant."

Ghalio walked back through the encampment, his mind working quickly. King Rothain, Captain Betrys, Lord Ivor... It was finally all coming together. If he could only execute his plan the right way...

A footfall sounded behind him and Ghalio spun around. Bottles and laundry tumbled to the ground. Out flashed his knife as he pinned the other man against the palisade wall, bringing the blade up to his throat.

It was dark, so it took Ghalio a few moments to recognize Corporal Hallam, the idiot serving with him under Ciprian. The young officer gulped, and Ghalio gave him a stern look before lowering his knife and stepping back.

Hallam rubbed his neck. "I was warned not to sneak up on you," he said ruefully. "Guess I'll never make that mistake again."

"Reflexes from the barbarian invasion," Ghalio grunted. "Can't get rid of them. What do you want?"

"Captain Betrys would like to see you," said the other Corporal, still feeling his throat. When Ghalio looked at him suspiciously, he added "She wants to know how her son is doing, and thought you'd visit him tonight."

"Fine." The dark-haired Corporal nudged the bottles and laundry with his foot. "Take care of these, will you?" Before Hallam could answer, he turned and made his way to the Captain's tent on the other side of the encampment. Ghalio nodded at the soldier posted outside, waited for his name to be announced, and then entered. Betrys looked up from the map spread over her desk. "Good evening, Corporal." She motioned with her arm. "Take a seat." The Captain waited until he was settled. "You've seen Vansen?"

Ghalio nodded. "Just now. I visit him every few days."

Betrys took a breath and planted her fists on her desk. "Listen, Ghalio. I truly appreciate what you are doing for my son. I've been told that you are looking after him, and I wanted to let you know how grateful I am for that."

"He was my Lieutenant," said Ghalio flatly. He shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose I feel guilty for not being with him the day that... Well, maybe I could have talked him out of it."

Betrys gave a grim smile. "I'll tell you right now that nobody could have talked Vansen out of that attack. He was always stubborn." She sighed and gave Ghalio a look that was surprisingly vulnerable. "How is he?"

"Not too good," he confessed. "He's still depressed about his hands. And he's drinking."

The Captain shook her head. "I am sorry to hear it. I don't know where he gets the wine from. Perhaps you can look into it." Ghalio nodded, keeping his expression carefully neutral. "Vansen needs a friend right now," Betrys continued, "and you've been more than one to him. For that I thank you, and I trust that you will continue to keep an eye on him." At Ghalio's nod she waved her hand. "Dismissed, Corporal."

Ghalio stood and bowed, while inside he was boiling with rage. This woman had overlooked him in favour of Ciprian, and now she expected him to play babysitter to her deformed drunkard son? But he needed her and could use her, so for now he was going to bow and smile and follow orders like the good little soldier they all assumed him to be.