XV. Gruda Glooner
Glooner entered Dodgson's Point Military Academy one year after I enrolled. A large-shouldered, ungainly lad whose family managed to rise above their inferior stock (his maternal grandfather was of the merchant class who made their fortune in oceanic shipping, his mother then married upwards to a minor viscount), he stood a head above the rest of his cohort. Youthly awkwardness notwithstanding, Glooner proved to be an admirable marksman on the field and came under notice from my fellows when he snagged the coveted Louis Chauchat Prize for long-range shooting at the end of his first year.
The Glooner House maintained a neutral position in the crossroads of alliances between the Four Great Noble Houses; because of the increasing wealth of the Glooner family, and the ambitions of their patriarch, however, they sought out some sort of fellowship with the upper rankings. Glooner became a part of my eating club when he became an upperclassman; apparently, his father had pulled strings to establish an opportunity to mingle with his betters.
Eating clubs, for those unfamiliar with the concept, are strictly-regulated dining halls that Dodgson's Point employs to lift the wheat from the chaff, so to speak. Anyone from any social status could enroll at Dodgson's, and a sense of egalitarianism prevailed for the first two years of schooling. Once men hit their final years, however, divisions were established between cadets, especially as certain fellows became selected for officer's grooming or specialized training. I belonged to the most selective of the eating clubs, and I arched my eyebrows to see Glooner making his way across the tables to where I sat. His blunt manner and humble disposition appealed to me, though, and we became fast friends until his graduation.
That day was drizzling when he told me in my study that his father had vowed his house's fidelity to the Barma Dukedom. Not that we couldn't remain friends (at least he didn't swear to Vessalius), but there remained a certain tension between our Dukedoms, stemming from the Barma House's foreigner roots and from their incessant need for information. And there were some secrets the Nightrays had to keep.
Glooner knew of the Barma reputation and twisted his cap in his hands like a guilty boy giving confession when he inquired, "I suppose it wouldn't be proper for us to keep in contact then?"
"That doesn't change a thing," I replied smoothly, pouring another tumbler of scotch for the both of us. "In fact, to celebrate your commencement, I propose a hunting party on my estate. The grouse are particularly plentiful this year."
He smiled in relief as we clinked our glasses.
Once he had left, I made arrangements to put a tail on his person. One could never be too careful with a Barma lackey, even if he was also a Dodgson's man and a former friend.