Quartering Acts

By Ahro

Warning: Sexual situations, language and violence.

Chapter 13

He felt like he was broken. A puppet that was simply being lead by an invisible master. The wind that stirred the dead leaves on the ground - he heard nothing. The shifting mass beneath him that was Hero - he felt nothing. The bright sun as it began its descent over the horizon - he saw nothing. Part of the soldier wished he was just being lead along. His decisions were not his own. He could blame someone else, but this wasn't the case.

I made him like this. I stole away his trust. I took advantage of his kindness. But- was all of that worth it? Worth seeing him crumble in front of me? That light being dimmed that much sooner. Were his words in that cell truly that painful to me? Were they worth all of this?

"Captain."

He never rejected me. He still showed trust in me. He still wanted me.

"Captain Kirkland, sir."

Is it so wrong for me to not want the same that Alfred wants? This war would never have to happen if people like him and his men gave up such foolish notions of independence. Alfred wants to be with me, as I want to be with him. Why can't he just acknowledge that its possible without this fighting?

"Sir!"

But now I'm playing mind games with him. Have I taken this too far? Will I kill him before his ailment takes him? Or is he dead already?

Answers wouldn't come right now, as his train of thought was quickly halted upon almost losing his seat atop the massive black draught horse.

"WOAH- Easy there Hero!" Once Hero had all of his hooves planted firmly again, Arthur glared fiercely at the Ensign who was now positioned directly in front of him. His blue roan, standing his ground in front of Hero; the cause for the black horse's abrupt rearing. "Berkley! What's the meaning of this?"

"My apologies, sir, but I've been trying to get your attention for the past fifteen minutes." The man saluted as he walked his mount out from in front of the still irritated Hero.

"Oh- well, what is it then?"

The ensign took a moment to survey the area. They were both on a lone dirt road, just wide enough for a horse and buggy to move down, but with little leeway on either side. The path had grown old now though. Where carriages had once ground tracks into the road, now grass and weeds had begun to retake the pass once more. Spindly tree limbs began to reach into the path as well. If any rider were to carelessly head down this path, they might easily find themselves nursing a bruised head, among other things. With the path being as secluded as it was, they would not have to worry about being overheard.

Berkley cleared his throat, "My concern is with the rebels. Will you be continuing to assist them, sir?"

With a deep inhale, Arthur looked to the ensign, "No. Of what brief respect I had for their ideals, it will only lead them to their deaths. With your help, Berkley, we've done more for them than they could expect of any British soldier." He then looked back down the road they had yet to travel. A rabbit sprinted across the path. A hungry fox in hot pursuit. "From here on out, our obligations are to his Majesty."

With a 'walk on' to Hero, Arthur continued on to their destination in silence; Berkley quickly following after him.

Arthur had to admit that he had grown curious of the young ensign. After some time of being under Arthur's command, he realized he knew very little of the quiet soldier. Unlike the other soldier's who mingled together, drank, and told outlandish tales, Berkley remained a puzzle. He was a good soldier. Followed orders without question. Was there the moment he was needed. Reliable. Direct. Yet a mystery. Arthur had reviewed the man's records and it was all in order. Grew-up with his father, aunt, and uncle in Berkshire. After school, enlisted in the army with his father. His father had been shipped to America under the command of former General Dereks, until his son soon followed. Then stationed in New York before being re-assigned to General Dereks' regiment in Quincy.

Now that I think of it. He's never once mentioned his father, nor have I seen him with him. If he was under Dereks' command, he should still be in Quincy. Or at least Boston by now.

"Captain Kirkland, might I speak freely?"

Arthur was growing tired of constantly being caught off guard. It certainly wouldn't look good if his men caught him daydreaming while muskets were being pointed at them from across an open field.

"Yes, Berkley."

The ensign moved his mount closer to the large draught horse. Even if they were in a rather secluded part of the forest, they couldn't let their guard down completely. "You mentioned you held a brief respect for their ideals, sir. If you don't mind my asking, but what was it that made you listen?"

This - was an interesting question. One that Arthur wasn't completely sure he knew how to answer. Thinking about any other British soldier he had met to this day, none seemed to believe the Americans had a right to argue liberty. The Americans should be thankful they were governed by such a giving Empire. That this land had been given to them under the good graces of his Majesty. That they had grown to be spoiled children, and now that the parent was reprimanding the child, they were simply throwing a temper tantrum that would be quickly squashed. Was this the truth of it? Were the Americans simply acting as spoiled children, or did they honestly have a right to call this land their own, and govern it as they saw fit. A new, independent country.

"What made me listen?"

A silent nod in reply.

"I- met a man. A man lost and in need of a direction to follow. That man found an ideal as his direction. He... he reminded me a lot like myself. Yet, his strength was not something I could challenge. He never lost his direction." He paused, "I did."

"Have you found your direction again, sir?"

Arthur could feel his heart sink. His direction. He had gone in a circle for his direction, which only meant if he continued he would simply do so again. Would happiness come back to him, only to fall away again to repeat the process?
All he could do- was follow it.

"I believe I have."

"General! He's innocent!" The crowd was roaring. Alfred's speech had done exactly what he wanted. A rallying cry to give his men cover. I had learned of his plans through Berkley only a few hours before. I would never have believed it could be true. One man, positioned clear across the park, in a second floor window, aim steadied on the single rope that would snap Alfred's neck if his accuracy was off by a fraction. Had Alfred not shown me his altered musket's improved range, it would have been impossible. I could only hope his chosen marksmen was just as good... to save Alfred's life.

It was then my feet touched on the main platform of the gallows. Seeing the crowd stretched out over the lawn, crying out their protest over Alfred's mistreatment as much as their own, it was frightening. The numbers were certainly there. They just needed the right leaders to bring them together. It made sense now why Alfred had been thrown into his leadership role. Not just because of his father, but the man himself knew what it took to achieve what many would believe impossible.

That's when I saw him.

Rounding the tall wooden pilings, that blond hair shown brightly against the contrasting dismal day, but those blue eyes... eyes that held the freedom of the skies in them, had turned gray.

I had only caught a glimpse of him as his attention was directed at the limp child in Dereks' arms. I knew what he was thinking. I knew he would see me any second now, but I had to still play my part. I had my own plans, just like he had his.

"You will stand down, Captain! I have spoken with the judge and he is favorable in his decision. These rebel's spirits need a bit of crushing."

Ugh- this bastard disgusted me. As much as I wanted to rush in and grab Micah while cutting Alfred down, I knew my choices were for the best.

"But sir, surely this will only cause more uprising!" Of course it would, but this idiot didn't believe there were men like Alfred out there who were capable enough to sustain an uprising with success. He was already foolish enough to disregard the outcry from the public just twenty yards away.

"Captain Kirkland!" He faced me now. The fat of his chin bouncing from the momentum as he turned. Spittle running down to get caught in its folds. I thought I would have lost it right then.

"Your merit is being tested, hear and now! You claim you were spying on the rebels in the forest, yet, you carried a pistol with the royal seal upon it. The barrel of that pistol was riffled, much in the same way this rebel had altered his own muskets. Do you deny that you have been consorting with the enemy?"

It was exactly as Alfred had warned me back when I saw him in the tent. Beaten and bloodied as he was, yet he was still coherent and cracking jokes. Of course men would rally behind him. He had such a naturally charismatic personality, that even while he kept himself locked away in his forge for four years, he never seemed to miss a beat with anyone. Was that why I was so taken by him so quickly? Beyond our similarities in our pasts?

"Since when am I suddenly on trial? You are not in a position to accuse me of such allegations!"

"I am putting myself in such a position, Captain!" There went the noose around Micah's neck. There went Alfred's belief and trust in me. "If you are innocent, Captain, than you will see this boy hang."

I swallowed the ever growing lump in my throat. I could feel Alfred's eyes on me now. Those now gray eyes, wide with confusion and disbelief. I knew what was to happen. I knew the final result in this. I had to stick it out. To play my part, just as Alfred had been playing his.

I took a step back.

"Smart man."

Then they fell.

"Captain Kirkland. Captain Kirkland, sir. I hate to wake you, but General Redford would like to see you in his office at 0100 hours." Berkley's voice was muffled coming from behind the closed door of the small bedroom. They were staying at an inn that had been sanctioned off for British officers. Arthur had only been asleep for three hours since they arrived and reported back to the General, yet it was just enough time for Arthur to be visited by the same reoccurring nightmare.

Ever since that day I've been plagued by that scene. I knew what the outcome would be. At least most of it, but is it guilt that is driving these dreams? After what Alfred put me through, giving me hope when he knew there wouldn't be any in the end. Was it so wrong of me to do what I did?

Arthur rubbed at his temples as he sat up in bed. A glance at the clock signaled that he had two hours before his meeting. Two hours. He could chance that dream again to try for more sleep, or drink away his approaching headache. So long as he nursed a single pint he should be alright in front of the general.

"Thank you, Berkley. Would you mind coming in here. I would like a word with you."

The door opened slowly as the young ensign entered. It was quiet on the landing and there was only faint whispers of conversation making its way up from the dining area below. Most of the soldiers had retired for the night, which would make what Arthur needed to say that much easier to address.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

Arthur rubbed at his eyes and stood to walk over to the wash basin by his bed. He motioned for the young soldier to take a seat as he reached into the clean water to splash on his face. Perhaps the cold would shake some of the uneasy feelings he was having from the dream away. He could only hope for anything at this point.

As he reached for a towel to dry his face, Arthur finally addressed the soldier.

"I understand I asked you to report to me in the morning, but since I'm up now I could use that report."

Berkley nodded from his seat, moving to stand to be more formal before being waved to sit back down by Arthur. After he was settled again, the ensign started, "Micah is safe."

Just hearing the name out loud seemed to help Arthur's nerves immensely. Berkley must have noticed this as he stopped quickly to mention his concern.

"I'm fine. Carry on."

He nodded. "He is with his mother in a safe location outside of the city. Its well secluded, and they are being cared for by a local farmer who lives not far from their current location."

"This farmer is trustworthy?"

"So long as I keep coin in his pocket, sir."

Arthur didn't care for the idea of trusting anyone who could be hired so easily with coin. Perhaps a visit would be in order.

"What of the boy? How is he?"

"He's thankful for your help, sir. He complains of the soreness around his neck still, but the collar and harness did its job in protecting him. His apologies have no end, sir. Perhaps if you could visit him it would help put his mind at ease. Also, he-" Berkley paused as he seemed to struggle with his words.

"What is it?"

Berkley looked to the table next to him, "He asks of Alfred. If he's alright, and if you're still friends with him. I'm afraid I was not much help in giving him any straight answers there, sir."

Arthur sighed as he moved away from the middle of the room to look out a window. Street lamps had been lit as soldiers patrolled the streets. There were not many citizens about at this time as one would be immediately interrogated under suspicions of working with the rebels. The prisons would begin filling up with innocents who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Much like Micah was.

"I TRUSTED YOU!"

I was covered in Dereks' blood. No one had seen me shoot him amidst the chaos. Neither had Alfred.

"YOU WERE MEANT TO SAVE HIM!"

I had seen Berkley coming to release the rope around Micah's neck. The wooden collar and harness that Berkley had secretly put on him under his clothing had not been noticed by Dereks, and it saved the boy. Alfred would never have known.

"HE WAS MY BROTHER!"

Alfred would torture himself now over Micah's supposed death. Blame himself. Blame me. What I did was right, though. Alfred was a fool to follow in this rebellion.

"WHY, ARTHUR?"

I did it for the best. Alfred would see that now. Once I reveal that I saved Micah as I promised, Alfred would forgive me.

"ARTHUR!"

Wouldn't he?

"Captain Kirkland! Sir, are you alright?" Berkley's frantic voice yet calm touch was behind Arthur has he began to come to. He must have begun to zone out and collapsed at the window. His head throbbed even worse now as his hand went up to inspect the already forming bump.

"I-I am sorry, Berkley. It... it must be from a lack of sleep is all." Arthur then began to get to his feet as he waved the ensign away. Thankfully, the man knew to keep his voice relatively low in his distress as no one came to check up on the commotion.

"Perhaps you should rest. I can inform the General that you will see him in the morning."

"No." Arthur quickly reached out to grab hold of Berkley's arm to stop him. "No- that will not be necessary. I- I think I might go down to the pub for a quick drink just to rid this headache and I will be fine. Thank you for your help, Berkley."

The ensign nodded as he went for the door, turning with a final salute. "It is an honor serving you."

The door finally closed, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts once more. Probably not the best thing to be left with for long, so he quickly picked up his coat, checked himself over in the mirror, and headed out to find himself a much needed drink.

The pub was quiet, much to Arthur's delight, as he made his way to the bar. Besides the barkeep, there was only one other soldier there, and he was out like a light. His head was cradled in his arms on top of the bar where he had passed out. An empty mug sat on its side against his arm.

Ignoring the other man, Alfred took up a seat farthest from the drunk. His stomach rumbled some, but the kitchens would no longer be serving at this hour, and Arthur was not one to use his station to bully around these citizens more than they already had been. As much as he hated seeing these people mistreated, it was for the better that their rebellious spirits were eliminated before more innocents died.

"What'll ya have, Captain?" The barkeep's accent was thick, and Arthur cursed himself for letting his thoughts quickly lead to Alfred.

"Just a pint, thank you."

The barkeep nodded and poured a frothing mug of the house's finest beer.

"What brings ya round here at this hour?" The man seemed rather skeptical of asking, but Arthur obliged. Perhaps he needed a little useless small talk to ease his nerves.

"Just needed a little extra courage before a meeting with the general."

"A meetin' this late? Well- I'll just keep them commin' as I expect you'll be needin' it." The barkeep let out a deep laugh as he went back to wiping down the bar and additional mugs.

Arthur remained quiet as he slowly nursed his drink. He had no worries about meeting with Redford. Unlike his former counterpart, Redford was far more respectable. The kind of man Arthur had expected to see leading troops in the colonies. Dereks was a joke, and Arthur wouldn't have been surprised if Redford himself was pleased the man was dead. Of course, no one would ever know Arthur was the one who placed the ball between his eyes.

"Lookie here. Fancy seein' a young British captain out havin' a drink at this hour."

Arthur never even noticed the drunk from down the end of the bar had found his way over to him. The barkeep's laugh must have woken the man. Certainly not what Arthur wanted to deal with right now.

"Yes. I have business to attend to soon."

"Ahh- best drown yerself now in some good ol' spirits before confrontin' the man."

"Yes." Arthur paused then as he looked away from his mug to the man next to him. It took only a second for his eyes to widen at the sight of the colonel insignia on the man's shoulder. He was at attention before the colonel knew Arthur was standing.

"My apologies, sir, I was unaware you were a colonel, sir." Arthur saluted.

The colonel laughed as he waved off Arthur's salute. "Relax there, Captain Kirkland. You're off duty as much as I am right now. Y'all have a drink on me!" He said with a laugh as he included the barkeep in on the offer.

"Ahh- thank you, sir." Arthur took his seat again, as now his mind was wrapped around this colonel's accent. It was distinctly from the southern colonies. That would make this man a loyalist. How had a loyalist achieved the rank of colonel in the British army though? If someone had the coin they could certainly buy their position, but regardless, for a loyalist the price would have been outlandishly high. No one in the colonies earned that amount. Unless the man had proven his loyalty so beyond that of coin he was given the position. Maybe a political choice to persuade other colonists to join arms against the rebels?

The colonel let out another loud laugh, "I must have spooked ya with the accent. Y'all have acted the same way around me since I arrived here in the north. Next, you'll be wonderin' what an American loyalist is doing as a colonel of the British army."

Arthur was shocked, and quickly began to wonder if he had spoken his thoughts aloud.

"Oh- no, sir. Forgive me if I may have appeared that way. I feel the more men we have on our side the better. I would rather see this feud end without anymore bloodshed."

The man suddenly turned serious as he looked away from Arthur to pier into his freshly filled pint. "I have seen much of the colonies durin' my service. I've been up and down this coast many times, as well as on your own shores. The spirit of these people is unmatched by any others I have seen before. I'm afraid this war will turn ugly before long." He took a heavy swig from his mug, almost ridding it of its contents in one go.

Arthur contemplated his own drink, Alfred's words of defiance against the British returning to him. "So you don't believe the colonists will give up?"

The man shook his head.

"This land is wild and untamed. Its people have grown to be fierce in order to tame the land they've staked their homes on. Not to be rude, but your people have become soft. Your leaders have grown to enjoy too many comforts as they wage wars from behind desks. The British Empire is great, but its been great for too long. Unless changes are made, the Crown will be facing a challenging reality very soon right in the heart of their economic strong hold." The colonel explained, as he stamped his foot to drive home the visual.

Arthur didn't add anything else so the man continued, "Its why I asked to be transferred up here. This rebellion will soon escalate, and I wanted to see my son once more before I lost the chance to do so."

This made Arthur turn in his seat. "You have a son here?"

"I do. You actually know him, Captain. He's under your command."

Arthur eyed the man suspiciously as he then began to take in the man's black hair, familiar square jaw, and brown eyes.

Could this man be...?

Arthur's silence pushed the colonel to answer his unspoken question. "I'm Colonel Samuel Berkley. John Berkley's father."

Arthur practically spilled the remains of his beer onto himself as he stood up from his seat.

"You're Berkley's father?" His voice carried accidentally, and Arthur winced as he tried to pull himself back together.

"That'd be me. I take it he's been a good help to ya up here?"

"Ahh- yes, he's a fine soldier." Arthur's mind was then quickly not on the conversation, but analyzing his time with the ensign.

His father is an American loyalist. That makes Berkley's history a lie. Why would he have forged his past and faked a British accent? Especially if his father is a known loyalist in the British army. Yet, Dereks seemed to know Berkley well. He had said he was under Dereks' regiment in London. Something isn't right.

The colonel must have noticed how Arthur immediately withdrew into himself with this latest news as he then stood and placed a hand on the captain's shoulder, pulling him from his musings.

"Would you mind goin' for a short ride with me, Captain? I could use some fresh air after all of this good drink." He smiled down at Arthur as he placed what he owed and then some on the bar. Easily covering Arthur's own drink with it.

Arthur's head was filled with questions that he needed to confront the ensign over, but he also couldn't say no to an order from a superior officer.

With a nod, Arthur then followed the colonel out to the road. He would need to be on guard while they rode.

They both had mounted in silence and took off on a road south out of the city. The pub had been on the outskirts of Boston which made it easier to leave without raising too much suspicion.

That extra coin he left for the bartender was for his silence. Something isn't right.

"Its been a long time since I've seen that beast."

"Pardon?"

Arthur looked over at the colonel who rode a dappled gray mare. He motioned with his head to Hero, who stood a few hands higher than the colonel's own horse.

"You're familiar with this horse, sir?"

The man laughed, "While you were still in the pub, I was reachin' for my mares reigns and he nearly bit my hand off."

"Oh- I'm terribly sorry, sir! I knew he was rather aggressive but I did not think-"

"No worries, Captain. Its a rare thing to see a plow horse that's aggressive. Only reason why I knew it was Hero."

This caused Arthur to pull Hero to a stop as the colonel continued on a few feet before noticing he had left his companion behind.

He knows Alfred's horse by name? What is his connection with Alfred now, and with that, what about his son?

"I did not realize Hero was so talked about amongst the soldiers." Arthur needed to watch what he said now. This man could very well be baiting him into releasing information he had gone to great lengths in keeping quiet. He wasn't sure of how this man's relations with his son still were. Berkley seemed to be on Arthur's side, but did that mean he could trust the ensign's father? Or was Berkley working for his father the whole time, and Arthur really had no one to trust.

No, I do have one man I can still trust.

The colonel rounded his horse back to face Arthur. They'd made it a ways into the woods now, and with only the dim light of the moon pushing through the thick tree limbs above them, they would continue to go unnoticed. Arthur would need to make quite a scene in order to gain outside help if things were to go bad. Hero could run fast, but he was bulkier than the colonel's mare and not built for speed.

Once the colonel neared, his voice took on a whole new level of deception. The southern twang was gone, yet he did not have the familiar Boston accent he had grown so familiar with. If anything, it seemed plain. Obviously American still, but without any unique characterizations of his words. Listening to him now, Arthur couldn't place where in the colonies he would have been from.

"My son tells me you assisted in the rebel, Alfred Jones', escape. You also shot General Dereks."

The abrupt accusation quickly threw Arthur off far more than the man's sudden change in accent. As well as the first words that came to his own mind being that of the truth. Should he come out that easily and accept the colonel's accusation of him? If he had ties to Berkley, than the colonel had proof that he had aided the rebels. Of course- just as much as his son had as well. However, had they really gone that far to lure me into a false sense of security in order to capture these men? They had lost a British general in their scheme. Or was this colonel looking to take that position for himself, and needed Dereks out of the way. Surely, his son would have told his father about Arthur's hatred of the obese general. What better opportunity than have an unsuspecting captain do your own dirty work.

Arthur straightened up in his saddle as the colonel waited patiently for an answer. Whatever the case may be, Arthur was not going to be frightened.

"If you knew that than you wouldn't have taken me out here to accuse me of it. What is it that you want?"

Even in the dim light, Arthur could see the smile that played across the colonel's face.

"Then tell me why, a Captain of the Royal British Army, who has made it pointedly clear you do not wish for the Americans Independence, has gone to such lengths to do just that."

This was interesting. Here the colonel was facing a traitor to the Crown, as he basically was claiming, but wanted to know what Arthur's reasoning behind it all was.

Arthur remained silent so the colonel continued, "Saving a young colonial boy's life, killing a British General, helping return muskets that can be fired from 300 yards out. To me, that sounds like you're far more interested in helping them then dissuading them."

Arthur lifted his head at the indignation the man bared for him. Of course putting it like that made it sound like he was helping the Americans cause, but it was more than that.

"Micah was innocent, and I hated that pig of a general. Those muskets will not throw the tides of battle. They can be only fired once before they need extensive cleaning to be reloaded. They're useless after one shot."

"From 300 yards away you only need one shot. Hidden amongst the trees, aiming for an officer astride his horse. Clear, open shot through the chest, sending confusion amongst the soldiers. With no one to lead them, they become like pigs out to slaughter."

Arthur shifted uneasily in his saddle, "How is it you know so much?"

He let out a boisterous laugh, much like the one he had made back in the pub. He seemed far from concerned whether anyone heard him.

"I was a close friend to that old fool who crafted that first rifled musket. Just like you're a friend of his son." He smiled.

What?

"Who are you?"

"I am Colonel Samuel Berkley of the British Royal Army." He saluted. "Former citizen of the good town of Quincy, Massachusetts. Later, of Yorktown, Virginia, and last of Berkshire, England. I'm sure you're familiar with the latter. Especially as its in my son's records that that is where he is from. Part of it is true. Before all of that though, he was an American living in Quincy, just down the road from Jones' Blacksmithing."

"So you are saying you were friends of Alfred's father? That your son was in turn friends with Alfred himself?"

"We were friends alright. However, I can't say my son stopped at being just friends with Alfred though." The colonel looked away at this. Pain seemed to strike across his features at past memories.

"What do you mean... more than friends?"

The colonel smirked and scratched his nose, "That boy captured my son's heart... much in the same way he seems to have caught yours."

It happened without Arthur even knowing he had done it. In his hand was his pistol, aimed threateningly at the colonel's head. Once he realized what he was doing he didn't even care.

"You may be a senior officer, but where do you have the suspicions that I would be sinfully in love with another man? A rebel at that!"

The colonel smirked. The threat of the weapon seeming invisible to him.

"I felt the same towards my son. I took him away from Alfred. Moved to the south so he would forget about the boy. He never did. He pretended like he had, but he was never the same. He had grown to be some lifeless doll. Doing nothing but taking orders. I have relatives back in England, and we were contacted to return. We did, and while there we both enlisted in the Army. I felt if he was to live his life in such a manner than he would make for a good soldier. I was right in that. When we returned to the colonies, strife was beginning to brew and I first returned to Quincy to see Alfred's father. That's when I learned of all the terrible things the colonists were going through, and I vowed to him that I would be his inside ear." The colonel paused and heaved a sigh. "The day he sacrificed himself at the Boston Massacre was the hardest day of my life."

"So, you mean to say that Berkley, your son, was the young boy Alfred had been in love with?" The pistol in his hand began to lower.

He nodded as his gaze drifted to look south down the road they had yet to travel. A road that would lead them both back to this man's hometown, "I've seen a lot of fighting in my day, and I've begun to realize just how precious and rare it is to find a sliver of hope in this world. Time is short now, and I've grown to hate myself for having pulled my son away from the man who had made him happy all those years ago." He then looked back to Arthur. "My son, John, now only cares about seeing a peaceful world. His heart now belongs to that ideal. With that ideal comes great sacrifice, just like the sacrifice you have made."

Arthur could feel the anger at the man's words billow up within him, as he looked down at the pistol in his hand.

"A sacrifice for a selfish reason."

You let him drown.

"We're all born as fools, Arthur Kirkland. Its time you realize that, and make the right choices." The colonel lightly kicked his mount forward as he began to continue south once more.

"B-but, Colonel- What should I do?"

The man looked back over his shoulder at him, "Make this war right boy. Live for that sliver of hope."

Arthur's thoughts were wild, but this man seemed to have helped in grounding some of those thoughts. What would he do though if he needed more help in the future.

"Wait- where can I find you if I need your help?"

There was a silence for a moment as the colonel halted his mare for a moment before turning, "You can find me at a grave site." and with those final words, the man kicked his mare and sent her galloping off to the south, leaving behind Arthur in his wake.

Could Alfred be right in all of this? Was it possible for the Americans to gain their freedom, even at the might of the British Army? Alfred had won my own judgement early on in all of this. I was ready to fight with him, then things changed, and I was forced to see just how devoted Alfred was to his cause. If he could change me, other men would rally beside him just as easily. He has a small force, but they've proven successful. Has their success already been whispered amidst the colonists behind closed doors? How soon until I will be shot off my horse by one of his muskets?

"A sliver of hope." Arthur looked at his hand where he still clutched his pistol. Did he want to aim that same gun at his sliver of hope? He had been selfish once, and he lost not just his younger brother, but his mother as well. The one who he wanted to be loved by the most. Now, was he going to let his selfishness do this again? Bring him back to the miserable state he arrived in Boston as. Was he better off fighting next to Alfred, or helping him in secret from the British side?

Regardless of my choice, Alfred won't be swayed away from his ideals. If I am to make this war right, and hold onto that hope, I will need to help him.

"I have to go see him."

"Captain!"

Arthur quickly turned in his saddle to see the familiar blue roan galloping towards him, the familiar young ensign astride its back.

Berkley.

"Captain Kirkland, sir." He rained in his mare quickly as he neared, holding out a sealed letter to Arthur as he did. "I've just left from General Redford's office. He has been suddenly called on to report to Philadelphia. He apologies for not being able to speak with you at the originally appointed time but he has written down his orders to you there." He motioned to the letter now in Arthur's hands.

"Philadelphia. Must have something to do with the Continental Congress." Arthur quickly unsealed the letter and began to look over it.

His heart felt like it had been crushed.

"Captain?"

Arthur tried to swallow the growing lump in his throat, "General Redford-" He began, his hand beginning to shake while he held the letter. "Is sending regiments of soldiers to fan out through the towns and forests north, west, and south of Boston to pick off any rebels they come across. Namely, Alfred and his men."

"What did he ask you to do?"

Arthur shook his head as the letter was quickly crumpled up in his hand. He would need to act, and act now. There was no time to spare.

"He's commanded me to lead one of the regiments."

Berkley caught Arthur's gaze immediately. It was a silent understanding between the both of them. Berkley knew he would have to cover for Arthur. He had to go now or his window of opportunity would be lost.

"Go to him, Captain. He needs you, but you need to fight for him from this side."

"Just as much as you have done for him all of these years."

Berkley was silent for a moment. Arthur could see the knowing look in his eyes. Arthur had finally spoken with his father. Everything was out in the open now.

"I'm sorry for having deceived you, Captain Kirkland."

Arthur shook his head.

"You've played your part well, and you've stuck by me faithfully. I understand your feelings, and what you hope to see achieved. Now its my turn to help you as much as it is to help Alfred."

Berkley nodded and a faint smile flickered across his face before he sat erect with a salute.

"I'm thankful, sir, that Alfred has finally found someone in this life that is truly worth fighting for." He dropped his false British accent with his last words, bringing out the same one that his father had used not long ago.

Arthur smiled and patted the ensign on the shoulder.

"Thank you, John. You have truly opened my eyes to see exactly what Americans are made of."

The ensign laughed. "We won't be made of anything unless you go warn those men."

"Right then." With a final nod, the two men split. One heading back to the city. One heading off to the forest.

This game is over. Alfred will know everything now. I can't hold anything back, for it might be the last time I ever see him again.

A/N:
Finally! Chapter 13! Its taken quite a while for me to get this to you and that's due to Megacon back in February. After the show I had so many commissions that I was overwhelmed (not complaining mind you; just lack of time). Trying to work on those around my job and internship was brutal so sadly my fanfics had to be put to the side.

Beyond that, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Plots are set in motion now. I'm sorry for the lack of direct interactions between Al and Art. Unfortunately, they're on opposite sides so its been hard getting them together. However, Art is rushing to see Al. The next chapter could be one you've all been waiting for. ;)

Thank you all again soooo so much for your continued support in "Quartering Acts", as well as my newer fic, "Jacob's Ladder". Your feedback has been a great help in keeping these fics alive. As always any concrit you feel like leaving never goes to waste. I've already been back through QA numerous times and I've added some more exposition and dialogue to early chapters in case you care to reread (nothing plot related so it won't hurt you if you don't). I hope the edits make the story a bit easier to read/follow.

Thank you again, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on the way out! Any speculations you might have is always fun to read, and helps me out with the flow of the story and what I've revealed or withheld if done correctly or not. :)
See you again in Chapter 14!

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