Steffon

March 17, 1939

Steffon sighed, leaning his head against the cold glass window of the passenger car, en route to London. For the last few months he had been anxious about the future; not because he was returning to his studies, but because the Munich Agreement had reached its conclusion, and now he had his answer. The Times had reported that Germany had invaded and annexed what was left of Czechoslovakia, as if they needed any further indicator that Germany wasn't going to keep their word.

Bloody Chamberlain… He muttered in his mind.

His attempt to enlist at the end of the previous year had been foiled by his mother when he'd been caught trying to leave the estate grounds. Once again, they were denying him the chance to enlist; they wanted him to finish his degree at Cambridge first. He knew students would be exempt from the conscription order that was doubtless on its way, but using that to get out of service just felt slimy.

There had been another argument the night before over it which had naturally ended with Steffon storming out of dinner and shutting himself in his room. Today was going to be different. He was supposed to be taking up residence at Cambridge while he finished his degree, but he had a plan, unknown to anyone at his house.

As goodbyes were said, Steffon hugged his younger brother and sister, his mother, and shook his father's hand. Joffrey, predictably enough, hadn't bothered to come down and see him off. Not that he was too bothered; he knew that his older brother wouldn't have done anything to make him feel at home anywhere. He was helped with his suitcase by the chauffeured driver and then began the drive to the local train station.

King's Cross Station itself was packed, which was to be expected. It was, after all, one of the city's main rail hubs, next to Waterloo Station. He'd take the connection here onto the northern line which would take him up to Cambridge. If there was one thing Steffon loved about his country other than cricket, it was the railway network. Easy to get around the country on, connecting all the major cities with changes to head to the smaller towns. What wasn't to like?

He was about to head to the platform where the waiting train would take him to Cambridge, when he saw a man dressed in an Army uniform on the platform. He was tall and fit, an officer's sabre fastened at his hip as he attempted to gain the attention of the younger passers-by in vain. Steffon approached him.

"You're a soldier, sir?" He asked.

"Indeed I am, my boy" He replied, breaking into a swift salute. "Berwick Dondarrion, Captain in His Majesty's Army."

"Trying to recruit sir?"

"That I am. Not having much bloody luck though." Dondarrion replied, trying and once again failing to gain the attention of people that were passing by. "You heard how bad things have gotten? What with Germany breaking its agreement with Chamberlain?"

"Yes, I heard." Steffon replied, placing his suitcase on the ground. "Hitler launched an invasion of Czechoslovakia."

"Precisely." Dondarrion said. "Chamberlain has already begun strengthening our allegiances and is looking for every able-bodied man willing to join the army. We're afraid we might have another war on the horizon."

Steffon paused. This was the moment he was waiting for, his chance to enlist and serve. "I… I would be interested in enlisting, sir." Steffon said. Dondarrion looked him up and down, doubtlessly eying off his crisp suit and tie.

"Are you part of the aristocracy, lad?" He asked. "Because with that in mind, you could be an officer upon conscription."

"I am sir, but if there's a war coming, I don't want to sit in the rear. I want to fight." Steffon said. Dondarrion nodded approvingly. Maybe this lad didn't have the conventional look of a soldier; he was tall and thin with no obvious muscle, but that was nothing training couldn't fix. He could be just as valuable on the battlefield as a man built like a Matilda.

Dondarrion smiled and gave the boy an approving nod. "Alright, lad." He said, reaching into his pocket and handing him a folded slip of paper. "I would advise jumping on the train to Chelmsford and enlisting there. South Essex is being reformed and they could use eager lads like you."

Steffon's face lit up. He'd heard the tales of the exploits of the South Essex Regiment during the Napoleonic Wars and found himself more eager than ever to sign up. He gladly took the sheet of paper that Dondarrion had hastily written his authorisation on and hurriedly boarded the train. Just as he boarded, he heard Dondarrion call out, "Welcome to the army, lad!"

Edric

"Wake up!" Edric heard a loud voice shout, followed by a banging on his cell bars. After another night of petty tomfoolery, Edric found himself spending the night behind bars, but for more honorable reasons than usual. Instead of stealing from the markets, or picking fights with inebriated bar patrons, he had been arrested after beating a man half to death for making unwanted advances on a lovely young woman. Edric enjoyed his fair share of trouble as much as the next man, that being far more than the next man, but even he held himself to the standard of respecting a woman's wishes.

"Top of the morning…" he yawned, lazily. "So, what's the bail today?"

"There'll be no bail today, Stone." The officer replied. " We have someone else to see you."

After getting cuffed and dragged out of his cell, Edric found himself sitting at a desk with a rather tall, dark haired man with a beard. Judging from the single crown on the epaulette, he was a Major. Or Lieutenant-Colonel. What little Edric knew of the army, he had picked up from the men that frequented the pubs around the city.

"You know who I am, lad?" The man asked. Edric looked him up and down.

"You seem somewhat familiar. Have I foughtyou before?" He asked.

"Name's Yoren." The man replied. "Major with the Army. South Essex to be exact."

"South Essex? The ones who captured a French standard at the Battle of Talavera?" He asked.

"The one and the same" Yoren replied. "We were disbanded after the Great War, but then recalled to active duty a few months ago. Colonel Mormont leads us now."

"So, what's that to do with me?" Edric asked.

"The man you attacked was the son of an MP. The son of a very high-ranking MP." Yoren said. Edric sighed. So that's why he was here. Not that he'd punched someone who was trying to force himself on a woman, but an MP's son. Nothing ever goes my way, does it?

"So what are my choices then?"

"Well, you can either rot here until the trial, at which you'll likely be found guilty and sent back into the cell to rot some more. Or you can take the offer I'm about to give you." Yoren explained. Edric leaned forward. "If you join the army, your record will be wiped clean. A new slate to rebuild your life on."

He pondered it for a second. Trade his cell to get shot at by a few million heavily armed Germans? Not exactly his idea of a holiday. On the other hand, he did prefer the open air to the workhouse he was usually inside of. And of course, a chance to have a French girl warming his bed when he was on leave.

"This'd be with your South Essex Regiment, right?" Edric asked. Yoren nodded. "Alright 've got your man." He said. Yoren nodded approvingly before shaking Edric's hand and leaving the room and saying something to the Scotland Yard officer on the other side.

That was how, an hour later, he found himself being escorted by a Military Policeman through King's Cross Station and to the train that would take him to the regiment's base camp near Chelmsford. He could see there were all sorts on the train, most of them similar to him. He even recognised a few of them; fellow gutter rats who'd been cast onto the bottom rungs of society by nature of having the wrong parents.

The one person who wasn't like the rest of them was looking out one of the windows as the train began to move. The man (or boy; he looked about 15) was tall and thin, with jet black hair and friendly-looking blue eyes. What marked him was just how clean he looked compared to the rest of him, from his well-maintained suit right down to the suitcase he was holding. It was obvious he came from money; possibly even the aristocracy.

Edric decided right there and then that he hated the man.

Author's Note:

Va-Lord: Phew! That took a while. Anyways, kornebrandon and I are back to writing, but will be returning to our Main Story starting next year. From then on, we'll be dedicating the next four months to our main story while outlining and brainstorming ideas for this one. Hopefully there won't be any complications.

kornerbrandon: Indeed. The Young Stag is still our absolute priority, so the focus is going to be there for a while. From both of us, a very happy new year to you all.