NOTE: Canonically, after Crowley's death Halt is first asked to take over as commandant, but refuses and then Gilan ends up with the job and is very surprised by it. To me it makes no sense that Crowley did not have a better plan in place for his succession, and I imagine he would have been preparing Gilan for a while as well, making Gilan sort of his apprentice as well. Plus these are two of my favorite characters, and I could not let the opportunity to have them gang up on Halt pass by. Last chapter!
CHAPTER 7 - Crowley
It all started at a banquet at Redmont castle. Crowley could hardly remember what the party had been about
Baron Arald, who was the only one to care about or at all notice such things, remarked that Crowley had now served as commandant of the ranger corps for exactly half his life.
Crowley had promptly choked on a bite of venison. Red-faced he tried to retain some dignity as the kind baron slapped him on the back to dislodge the obstruction.
What Arald said was true though, moreover he was already by far the longest serving commandant of the ranger corps there had ever been. Having held the post since the tender age of twenty-five he was not a particularly old man yet, still perfectly healthy, and he had surprisingly sustained no lasting injuries on his many dangerous missions. However, he knew such things could change at the drop of a hat. Assassinations, disease, one wrong step going downstairs on the way to breakfast in the morning… There were countless ways a man might die at any moment. And when said man is in charge of the most elite intelligence force of the country, he should have a plan for that.
He had of course not been completely blind to such notions. His vague idea had always been that Halt would just take over. However, Halt was not much younger than him, and constantly talked about how he absolutely would not want to have Crowley's job and all the paperwork it entailed. Perhaps he was serious about that. Moreover, once Crowley started seriously thinking about a ranger corps with Halt in charge he remembered… Things. Forgery. Treason. Arson. Many, many, barely avoided international incidents. A ranger corps with Halt in charge could very likely be the end of the nation.
That very day Crowley sent a letter to Duncan instructing that, no matter what happened, should he have to be replaced as commandant the king should not even consider Halt. A very confused Duncan replied that he was not an idiot, so of course he would never put Halt in charge.
That did leave open the question of who would be a suitable replacement. At the next gathering Crowley looked around his comrades, considering each of them. Some were too old, some too young. Many were highly competent at operating alone, but just did not have the gift for organization and leadership that was required for the position.
"Hey Crowley.", he suddenly heard someone whisper behind him. He identified the voice as Gilan's. Had the man actually managed to sneak up on him?
"I am trying to get Halt and Al back for that little stunt last year. However, it would be mean to discriminate so I am going to hit as many rangers as possible. I have already organized all the current apprentices to help me. Are you in as well?"
Crowley smiled. Halt was practically a brother to him, so when he ended up more or less adopting his apprentices Crowley just accepted that he was for all intents and purposes an uncle now. He loved both his 'nephews', but where Will resembled Halt the most, Gilan had always been a little more like himself. A fun-loving prankster, but also a man of his word, who understands the need for protocols and can be trusted to follow them, a visionary who is great at logistical planning and people management. He may not have the gift Halt and Will have for coming up with impulsive harebrained plans that somehow save the nation, but two loose cannons in the corps was quite enough, and those two only function properly with a Crowley to point them in the right direction. Or a Gilan, as the young man had proven himself capable of that as well.
No, Gilan was not a young man anymore, Crowley corrected himself. He already had a decade and a half of service behind him, excluding his apprenticeship. And the battle of Hackham Heath, which he had fought in as a fucking twelve year old child, Crowley remembered grimly. After perfecting his ranger skills to a degree few in the corps managed he had gone on to build an impressive resume of complicated missions often in far corners of the world. He had just finished training up an apprentice who was now a rising star in the corps as well.
A thought struck him. "I would love to, but there is something I need to figure out. Do keep me updated on how the plotting is going though."
"Yes," he thought to himself, "What I need to figure out is how to arrange for you to become my replacement."
"Oh, but if it helps you if Halt is distracted, I will be talking to him for at least half an hour as soon as I can get him alone."
"Thanks Crowley, I knew I could count on you!"
That grin should worry him, really. Gilan could not replace him if Halt killed him.
"Did I just hear your kneecaps crack as you sat down? You're getting old."
"That is actually what I wanted to talk to you about, it is high time I put a formal plan for my eventual replacement in place and started instructing someone for the position."
"Are you on about that again? I have told you a million times before that I don't want the job."
Halt moved as if to stand up, but Crowley pulled him down again.
"That is true, but the difference is that I believe you mean that now. And pictured the total anarchy that would result from you being in charge."
Halt raised one eyebrow. "So why are you talking to me?"
"Because you are my most trusted friend and advisor and I want your perspective on the person I have in mind. Particularly because you trained him."
Halt's eyebrows practically shot through the roof of the tent. "Will? Really?"
"Are you crazy", Crowley shushed him, "Will is even worse than you, it's like herding cats with you two. Gilan, however, is perfect for the job."
Halt considered it for a moment. "He is, I can't believe I did not think to suggest him earlier."
Crowley smiled. Very few rangers were likely to oppose Gilan's eventual appointment as commandant, but there would always be some that felt passed by, and Halt being supportive of the situation meant nobody would dare act on any sour feelings.
"You seem to already have this worked out, what is it that you need from me?"
"Well, other than ensuring your support, I hoped you could help me figure out a strategy for how to convince Gilan to take the job. Or do you think he will be happy at the prospect?"
Halt snorted. "Absolutely not."
Some months later Gilan and Crowley were sitting on either side of a pile of paperwork in the commandant's office in castle Araluen. Gilan's prank on Alistair and Halt had succeeded, and afterwards Crowley and Halt had managed to convince him to accept the position. Not before convincing him that this was a genuine request and not a counterprank for the chaos he had just created at the gathering.
With Halt and Will currently both present in Redmont they were able to keep an eye on Whitby as well, so Gilan could spend some time with Crowley to familiarize himself with the responsibilities of a ranger commandant.
"I have to say, I like this second apprenticeship rather better than my first. I distinctly remember Halt saying that apprentices need to do all the housework because there are no servants in a ranger cabin, but here in castle Araluen there actually are."
Crowley grinned. "Oh don't worry, I have a cabin too and there is plenty of housework awaiting you there. And since I only spend a few days per week there you can always count on a layer of dust to clean up on arrival. Gets damp in the winter as well if you don't light a fire every day, surely you have experienced that before after returning from a mission?"
Gilan shuddered. "Yes, the cabin in Norgate was the worst. I still can't believe Al prefers that to the southern fiefs. His face when he was appointed to Seacliff - most rangers consider that fief a holiday as long as the Skandians are under control, but you would think we were sending him to hell!"
Crowley chuckled. "I admit I did that on purpose. I could have sent him to Coledale as well, but I figured this would toughen him up a little."
He considered it for a moment. "Appointing people is one of the hardest parts of the job. There are all the practical matters to take into account, and everyone's personal preferences. Even if you get the logistics to make sense there are always some people who are upset. Either because they do not get moved to a more important fief soon enough for their liking, or because they have to leave a fief they have grown attached to. It is never good enough. And sometimes you have to make heartbreaking choices. When I had to send Will - still half traumatized from the ordeal in Skandia - on that mission to Mackindaw in the middle of winter, I barely slept for weeks. But he was the only one available with the right skill profile and after the whole Scotti invasion thing came to light I was very glad I did not let sentimentality overrule reason there."
Gilan carefully added some notes to a thick notebook that was steadily filling. He had already felt overwhelmed when he was first told Crowley wanted him to be the new commandant, but at the time he had barely comprehended the full complexity and responsibility of the position. Now he was starting to see how much he had left to learn, but he was very determined to do well.
Crowley sensed that he had perhaps dropped enough weight on the younger man's shoulders for one evening, and should lighten the mood a bit.
"Now there are also perks. The main one is annoying Halt. One thing I like to do is hide information I know he wants in very long-winded letters full of gossip about court."
The note was very small, crumpled, and had Crowley's mailing address scribbled on the back in Halt's unmistakable messy handwriting.
The retired ranger Leander looked at it in puzzlement. He had been in Crowley's office for one of his regular coffee visits when the mail came in. He initially overlooked the tiny piece of paper in between the large stack of fresh reports as he helped the commandant sort through them.
"Why would Halt bother sending you such a small note instead of just adding it to another letter?"
Crowley shrugged. "One way to find out."
The note read : "I will retire the day that brat is appointed commandant."
Short, succinct, to the point. One could rarely accuse Halt of wasting words, but his correspondence did not usually lack essential context.
Crowley looked over to Gilan, who was filling out a form on the side table in the back of the office which he had claimed as his own desk.
"Gil, what exactly did you write in that letter with the new tax legislation?"
As a highly skilled ranger, the younger man's eyes could easily recognize his former mentor's handwriting from the other end of the room. He started to sweat a little as he remembered the letter.
"Well, I had to hide it between at least three pages of nonsense of course, but I have not been here long enough to get up to date with all the court gossip yet, so I may have made up some rumours to give the report a bit more body."
Crowley vaguely recalled Halt once saying that, however annoying this manner of receiving reports was, at least reading all that drivel made him able to join in on conversations when baron Arald threw dinner parties.
"Exactly how offensive are these fake rumours?"
The commandant received only sheepish looks in reply to his question.
"Perhaps it is best if you stay out of Halt's way during the next gathering."
Gilan nodded solemnly. "I definitely intend to."
Leander shook his head and poured both his friends and himself another mug of coffee.
Gilan smiled warmly at the old man when he passed the honey pot without complaint.
Little did they know that barely a year later they would be sobbing their hearts out in each other's arms while they arranged Crowley's funeral together. It is the way of life. Rangers train apprentices. Their graduated apprentices eventually train their own apprentices. And gradually, the young replace the old. In however many years they had together they built enough memories to last a lifetime, and with every generation they accrued a little more wisdom to pass along to the next. Traditions would come and go, but the one that would never fade was the habit of both mentors and apprentices to prank each other at every given opportunity.
THE END.