Major General Allen Alastor briskly marched down the dim hallway, his polished shoes quietly thumping on the wooden floor, past the framed oil paintings depicting various kings and princes. Stopping in front of a large wooden door, he briefly adjusted his tricorn hat, with a gold-thread embroidered brim, straightened his red coat and its trimmings and buttons, and brushed off his epaulets before he rapped on the polished wooden door three times.
"This is Major General Alastor. May I come in?"
"Come in, Major General Alastor." said a gruff voice behind the door.
He closed the door behind him. He performed a short salute.
"Greetings, General Clinton."
"I assume you have something pressing to say?" replied the slightly portly man behind the desk.
"Yes sir. Concerning the newly arrived regiments, and their equipment, I was asked to deliver to you a log and a short summary of the arrivals." said Alastor, pulling out a short file of paperwork and handed it over. General Clinton the paperwork a cursory glance and a short nod.
"Additionally..." said Alastor, pulling out a sealed letter.
"Here is a request by Major General Grant to increase the number of troops under his command in the planned deployment to Barbados from under four thousand to just about five thousand."
He nodded after a short while.
"This will be approved and I will reassign those regiments. Do you have anything else?"
"Also, concerning my request to deploy the battalions under my command in the planned expeditionary corps alongside Colonel Archibald Campbell, it has reached you, has it not?" Alastor questioned.
General Clinton sighed.
"Major General Alastor, I believe that we've already talked over this before, and my response is the same. No, your request is denied."
His eyes narrowed and his gaze hardened.
"Major General Alastor, I will have no more of these types of requests. As your immediate superior, I am giving you a direct order to garrison your battalions in New York City until further notice. If you try to override my orders again, I shall have you tried and court-martialed! Is that clear?"
Alastor offered Clinton a thin smile in reply.
"Yes sir, my good General." he drawled slowly.
General Clinton peered at him with concern and let out a deep breath.
"Apologies, Major General Alastor. I wish just as much as you did that we had permission yet I am being saddled by requests from the crown and Parliament. My hands are thoroughly tied." he gestured at the pile of paperwork on his desk. They simply would not let me approve of your request, and there is only so much I can do!"
He motioned to a large letter that showed proof of the exchange. Alastor took it and read it over thoroughly.
"Well?"
His shoulders sagged. What the General had told him was true. Alastor sighed in annoyance through his teeth and they both shared a knowing glance.
Politicians frustrated him to no end and made him want to tear out his hair. They always worried about costs, about the general direction of the war, about his Majesty's wishes, some arbitrary fixed-course plan, or some other small insignificant thing.
Alastor was no politician. He was a tried and true soldier. He was an experienced veteran of the Seven Year's War, having distinguished himself in battle, and he had the scars to prove it. He knew war. War was not a simple mathematical equation of ships and men that some of the planners back in England thought it was. War was a careful dance of death, a careful balancing act of morale and marching, of supplies and fighting. And war, war rarely if ever followed a given plan. His troops were needed on the front lines. He could not keep sitting around in New York City, wasting precious time as the Rebels made their moves!
Fuming, Alastor had his hand on the brass handle of the door and was about to exit.
"Are you going to go to the ball this weekend?" said General Clinton, suddenly, behind him.
He turned around.
"Why would I bother to do that?"
He looked at Alastor through a raised eyebrow.
"It would be good if you did, you know. I believe that Sir Lucas de Magne has invited all the important officers in the city to the dance he is hosting at Magne manor this weekend. He specifically relayed to me that this request includes all the officers on my general staff. It would be seen as a severe slight if you were not to go."
Alastor groaned internally. Now that was another unavoidable annoyance. He had tried to put off replying, but he supposed that he could no longer do so.
"I will let him know."
He ground his teeth once he finally exited the office. He supposed he would have to go.