Personal Account Part I
Lucien Bledsaun, Sergeant, 66th Regiment of Foot 1 May, 1729
Lucien Bledsaun stirred, then sat up. Beside him, his woman -he hesitated to call her his wife, sincethere had been no official ceremony- rolled over to face him.
"What is it?" Madeline asked sleepily, taking the opportunity to pull over more of the thin army blanket they both lay under.
"Something's happening, love," he replied. And it was true, for from outside the tent running feet and unhushed voices could be heard. Figures rushed past, their silhouettes painted by firelight onto the tent's canvas sides.
"Probably the changing of the watch," she offered, stealing yet more of the blanket.
"It ain't the watch changing," Lucien decided. "Too much happening."
Madeline's hand traced the confluence of ribs down the center of her second husband's chest. "Maybe the Akaeians have invaded," she proposed lightly, her smile lost to Lucien in the darkness.
"Could be," he replied, his voice so serious that her smile froze and died. Lucien rose to his feet, careful not to disturb the two children who quietly slumbered beide him. Bryce and Margaret were not Lucien's, but instead the living reminder of Madeline's first husband, who had stopped a Zagorlad bullet somewhere near Beldorford. But Lucien was as good a father to them as any army sergeant could be.
"I'll go find out," he whispered, then, pulling on his trousers, stepped out of the tent.
The men of the 66th Regiment of Foot, 4th Shock Army, ran about like ants whose colony had been disturbed. Lucien snagged a passing private by the arm and asked in a voice loud enough to carry over the general noise, "Jacques, what's going on?"
"Dunno Sarge," the man replied, "But the word's going around that's it's something big. The Colonel's assembling us in the parade ground."
Colonel George Dupont was an imposing man, standing a few inches over six feet, and now as he sat comfortably on the back of his large bay, his peaked hat sitting fore and aft atop his head, he looked to be beyond imposing and somewhere in the realm of the giants.
"Lads," he boomed out in his deep voice, tinged with the lilting accent of the Sicinian West Downs, when he judged that enough of his regiment had gathered around him. "I'm sorry to have to be waking you from a sound sleep, but we've got trouble brewing. Some lads over in Alphonse and the Coté d'Sur don't like playing by the rules, so when they lost the election they decided that they'd take up arms against the government!"
He paused to let his words sink in. The regiment talked and muttered amongst themselves. Lucien, ever a good sergeant, kept silent. He'd signed for the Equality Party, and he'd been happy to of Laroux's election to the Premiership. But he hadn't imagined he'd wind up crossing blades with other Sicinians over a simple election. He still didn't want to imagine it, even though he knew it was coming.
"Now, 7th Corps and the 3rd Shock are going to stay on the border to make sure the Akaeians don't get ideas. That leaves us in the 8th Corps to restore the peace. But out of 8th Corps, the Panselle Division and most of the cavalry and artillery are heading south to sort out the troubles in Saint Michele and the Coté. That leaves our division to handle Alphonse and the Riverlands, and now Lorient's and d'Boulon's brigades are heading straight across the river to take the works the rebels have seized across from Morion and then hit Alphonse from the its side of the river. That leaves our brigade, lads, to clear all of South Alphonse. I'd be lying if I told you this was going to be easy, but by God it's damn important. If we lose, Sicinia's over, so don't lose and we'll all be the happier. So with that cheery thought, go get some sleep lads. We're marching down the Maureville Pike Road first thing tomorrow!"
Lucien got very little sleep that night. He didn't think anyone did.
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