Disclaimer: Glorrrrfy!
A/N: Well, here it is: The first official chapter of Clandestine Affairs! Oh joy and misery... I've discovered that WRC was the longest running fic with the highest review count for a non-humour fic in this section. I feel so honoured. Thanks, guys. =)
*
Clandestine heaved a sigh and walked into Galde's study, where the colonel sat, chair tipped slightly back with a bland expression written over his face, paw absently twirling a broken quill. Looking up at the younger major, the colonel tilted his head to the side, motioning for her to sit. Clandestine, recalling all the lectures she had been given by the elderly colonel (before and after becoming an officer at that) and braced herself. Galde managed to pull off a singularly amused look while still remaining generally impassive. Sighing, he tipped his chair back up, and sitting properly, dug into one of his drawers and removed a file. Discarding the useless quill in favour for a working one, the colonel flipped open his records. Tapping a page, he literally threw the papers at the major, who, smiling wryly, caught them.
22nd Mossflower Patrol, missing 2 members from a complete Foot and Fur official patrol (following corrected guidelines as of season 3 of year 18 of the FaF council agreement), grinned back up at her. Galde sighed.
'Clande, will you please go and get another two bally hares? Mianent and Beutrill are absoballylutely going off their rockers trying to get rid of the older Greenings who are not Greenings any longer, and your patrol happens to be the most open to them.'
Clandestine looked fairly frustrated, having gone over the conversation more times than one with her old mentor.
'Galde, sah, my patrol has been fully functional and doing perfectly fine for the past four seasons already. I do not-'
Galde only needed to glare at her with a jaundiced eye before Clandestine balefully shut herself up. The two were about to engage themselves in a staring competition when a chuckle sounded from the doorway. Twisting around in her chair to get a better look, Clandestine came face to face with a fairly amused Rapieratce, who was leaning nonchalantly against the sturdy door frame, green eyes twinkling in mirth over the familiar scene before him. Galde cast a frosty, affronted glance at his protégé and foster son.
'What do you want, 'Atce?'
Rapieratce threw his arms into the air, feigning surrender.
'All I wanted was to get an extra ink bottle, sah! Although I am finding this most funny.'
Clandestine glared at Rapieratce, who only grinned impishly back at her. Galde, scowling, pushed a full bottle of inky liquid across his table towards Rapieratce.
'Take it and go, 'Atce.'
Smirking, Rapieratce smoothly walked over to the table, dipping down low enough to mutter a "good luck" into the ear of his compatriot and friend before laughing lightly and exiting, closing the door behind him with the ink bottle in paw. A moment later, Galde cleared his throat and Clandestine turned her attention back towards him.
'Clande, I've been fairly lenient with you and your patrol for a while now. But by Mossflower, will you just take two before I go and assign them forcefully to you?'
Galde none too gently brandished a name list in front of Clandestine. The ominous stack of paper rustled. Reluctantly, the major flipped through the thick listing, critically scanning the pages before slowly coming to a conclusion, paw lingering over a name in the list.
'I suppose we could make room for Twitch. He is, after all, Furgale's younger brother and all...'
Galde looked expectantly at the major, drumming his fingers on the desk impatiently, head tilted to the side. Clandestine looked down the list again and shrugged a few moments later. She placed the stack back onto the table, innocently glancing up at Galde, who now looked just about ready to kill her.
'I can't seem to find any others, sah.'
Galde all but slumped into his chair, rolling his eyes.
'You test my patience, Clande. Ah, get you gone before you grey my fur any further.'
Grinning, Clandestine made a flourishing, over exaggerated and definitely overly eloquent bow before leaving the study, earning her another glare from her exasperated senior, who just threw his paws up in defeat.
*
Rapieratce worked efficiently, diligently copying the text that Galde had set down for him earlier that day onto a new piece of parchment. The older volumes in the library were in need for recopying, and seeing that his student had nothing better to do that season but laze around, Galde had happily thrust the assignment into Rapieratce's weary, and now ink stained, paws. For the past four weeks the captain had been slaving non-stop to copy the four thick, leather bound histories that lay on his desk. Stacks upon stacks of parchment lay on his table, empty ink wells and broken quill nibs littering the usually neat area.
The hour was already late, and Rapieratce swore the words were beginning to jump about as he swayed back and forth slightly, trying his best to concentrate and get more work done. The candle flame guttered viciously as it came into contact with wax, and Rapieratce shook his head to bring him back to awareness. The beeswax had almost burnt down, and the flame was perilously close to going out. Carefully placing his work down, cautiously avoiding smudging the new ink, the hare captain struck flint and tinder again as he groped for a new candle.
Perfect. He did not have any. Cursing his lack of foresight, Rapieratce blew out the old candle, plunging his room into semi-darkness save for the two sticks that flickered next to his bed. Slipping silently out, he padded through the almost empty halls and headed to the storerooms.
Winding stone corridors steadily lead him down to the kitchens, which were directly next to the stores. Slipping in, he was about to grab a cup of leftover cordial when Galde's voice rang out from the shadows, almost causing him to drop the stone pitcher in surprise.
'Up late, 'Atce?'
The captain's head shot up, instinctively veering his body to the sound of the voice. Galde sat, casually sipping on a mug of hot chocolate, in a corner of the kitchen, a pile of work next to him. Rapieratce's body relaxed, and he shrugged.
'My candles have gone out.'
Galde waved his mug in silent dismissal. Rapieratce hurriedly grabbed some of the long candles from the store and went back into the kitchen, filling a cup with the clear cordial. Taking a sip, he sank gracefully into a chair, watching his mentor through half lidded eyes. Galde only raised an eyebrow in response. It was not unusual to find the colonel staking out the kitchens to do work every once in a while; the homely, cosy atmosphere differed greatly from the normal stark contrast of the offices and libraries. The quite, warm solace of the kitchens was always a welcome strain away from the more officious nature of the upper levels in which the officers resided. Galde sighed softly, absently flicking a nib.
'I worry about Clandestine.'
Rapieratce decided that he needed a stronger drink that eve. Drowning the glass of cordial, the hare poured himself a small amount of strong wine. He took a sip, savouring the bittersweet taste. Looking up, he saw Galde staring wryly at him, expecting a response.
'Don't we all, sah. She has been reclusive of late.'
'Really.'
The question was clearly rhetorical. There was no denying it; the spirited major seemed quieter. More detached, almost aloof. Even Glamoren could not explain it. Galde shook his head wordlessly, too slight for even Rapieratce to notice. The silence dragged on comfortably between the two of them. No words needed to be said. Galde knew that Rapieratce had no idea what was going on, and Rapieratce knew that whatever information Galde might possess was at the colonel's whim to dispense.
Draining his glass, Rapieratce stood, slightly heady from the wine. Nodding to his foster father, he walked out of the room, pondering the change in the personality of one of his closest friends.
And in her room, Clandestine tossed in troubled sleep, haunted by images and memories of a past that was not hers.