At the Barracks of the 13th Fusiliers
On the practice grounds, a number of young officers stood watching their
Major, Beau Taille, finish his rapier demonstration. While his style
tending to the practical rather than flashy, it was suitably advanced
compared to the onlookers to be impressive.
"That is all for today," he said after a last lunge. Looking around at
those watching, he smiled. "And remember, combat with the enemies of
France is not the only place that you'll be called upon to use these
skills. The honor of the Lucky 13th should be defended just as vigorously
in the morning light of a Paris dawn as on the battlefield."
As he walked towards his office, one of his company commanders left the
milling group and walked along side him. "Not just bravado with that, Sir"
Captain Odo remarked. Taille smiled, but remained silent. "Well, I won't
be indiscrete, but I wanted to tell you that the men are quite proud of
you." He stopped, then continued faster. "And not a scratch on you! It's..."
Major Taille shook his head. "It wasn't without a scratch. He got in a
slash or two. Just shallow cuts, mind. But you should have seen his face
when I 'put the boot in' as those Dragoons say." He laughed along with Odo.
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