The Marcher Lord (Over Guard) (4 page)

And a good work for Christ,
Ian thought.

Though with a little guilt
, he wondered how he might have handled all of it better as he reached the front of the building and rang for his company.

“Let us set forth then, as brothers in arms in this era of new beginnings, striving to serve God and King … to protect the weak and the helpless, holding onto the light and virtues as our fathers before us.”

—Hollimer Tanser, excerpt from the Royal Arsmen Reconnaissance inaugural address, April 20
th
, 4747 UI

Ian had plenty of time for trepidation as the door’s answer was late in coming. The first minute or so was understandable—a mild exercise in patience and for Ian to try to imagine what kind of person would open the door. But he had rung twice more, with plenty of room to start to be worried as the directions in his yeoman were presently all he had to go on. But that was nonsense, this was the correct address.

His self-assurance was finally answered not by a
Chax servant, as he had half-guessed, but a young Bevish man, dressed in the same uniform that he was. Only it was almost immaculately conditioned to such a degree that their present differences in climate couldn’t completely account for it. Ian could feel the building’s cooler air leaking out by his hands, which he raised into a prompt low salute as soon as he had ascertained that the other man was also a private, equal to Ian’s rank.

“‘
Bout time,” the other said as he blearily rubbed at one eye. Somewhere in the middle of it the other grudgingly returned the low salute.

“Private Ian
Kanters,” Ian said, ignoring their mismatched attempts at politeness, “reporting to 143
rd
Split, Captain Marsden.”

“This way,” the other private said, giving an extremely brief look out into
the evening street before turning and starting down the dark hall beyond the door.

I
an followed, switching off his regulator as soon as he was inside the entrance, and made sure to carefully shut the door behind him. It was exceptionally murky inside—the only light being far down the hall and somewhere around the corner. Ian quickly got a rough impression of the immediate footing before he finished closing the door, which turned out to be a good idea as he could only make out the rough form of the other man walking past a stairway and on toward the light. The most visible part of him was his yellow hair, which was a bit longer and topped his fairly angry demeanor, as it seemed to Ian, who knew a rough previous night when he saw one.

Ian
almost asked the man’s name, but he decided he could wait on questions that had a chance of irritating temperaments already not in the mood for questions. Past experience assured him that he would learn everyone’s name soon enough; it had been one of his more insistent habits as a boy to want to know everyone’s name as soon as possible. It had been important to him to be able to use someone’s name when conversing, as he’d noticed that it had an effect on them. And if used carefully, it could yield positive reactions that would have been unavailable otherwise.

Ian hadn’t gone very far
after the other man before just barely missing the low table that was scooted against the stairway wall. However, in the follow-up, he tripped a bit on a thick rug and ended up hitting the same low table he’d initially missed anyway.

“Careful,” the other private snapped, as if
it was something significant, a healthy case of condescension in his voice.

Ian bit his tongue and moved past the table. Watching up ahead, he saw a
thin line of light appear on the wall, illuminating where the private was running his finger along the stone. There was a gentle delay, and then a dim light grew within the ceiling above them, revealing a simple but rich hallway just beyond the stairs. After seeing what many of Carciti’s buildings looked like on the outside, Ian was easily impressed. Not that his own family’s home could compete with much to begin with, but his mother had always wanted V-lighting, even a basic setup like this one evidently was. A quick look around revealed that the lighting wasn’t ubiquitous but had various holding points scattered around on the ceiling and walls where light could be used. There had been no sounds, so it was probably only touch activated. The strength of the light depended on how many fingers were placed against the wall.

They continued on through a doorway and around a corner to the back parlor where the light was coming from.
The room was fairly simple, the more formal dining area being elsewhere. It held assortment of furniture, consisting mostly of a wooden table and chairs. The light had been coming from the far corner and wasn’t all that strong. Upon inspection it actually turned out to be a display unit sitting on the table. Ian’s eyes were beginning to adjust to the dimness, so it was hard to see past the glowing regional map of Orinoco and various text and data displays that the device was projecting. He knew a man was sitting on the other side, but Ian could only make out his rough outline through the light until Ian got much closer.

“This is
Private Kanters reporting in,” the other private announced, a noticeably higher degree of diligence in his voice.

Ia
n came beside the other private and first made sure to ascertain that the man sitting was a corporal and not a commissioned officer. Standing at attention and offering a crisp honor salute that was reserved for higher ranking individuals below the rank of lieutenant, Ian finally was able to see the third man, dim and shifting though the light was.

This man was decidedly taller, well-
defined but not angular. His hair was sharply slicked back and his uniform immaculate. But it wasn’t really what he was wearing—they were all wearing the same thing, after all—but how he was wearing it. A calm demeanor, perhaps even cold, or—

“Good evening,
Private Kanters,” the corporal said. His voice was surprisingly deep but almost agonizingly measured, methodical. The corporal kept his eyes on the display, slowly scanning the text he was moving through. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, finally. Was there any difficulty in getting here?”

Ian tried not to smile
as he realized this corporal was the only obvious reason the private who had showed him in was as well-dressed as he was.

“No,”
Ian said, “no trouble.”

“Indeed,” the corporal said, looking up for the first time from
his information to measure Ian up, an idle curiosity in it. For a moment, Ian thought the corporal was going to press the matter and ask why exactly it had taken Ian so long to arrive, as in all probability they knew when his shuttle had landed.

“But manners are wanting,” the corporal said, turning to face them and lounging slightly in his chair.
“Corporal Arran Wesshire. And presumably you two have been introduced.”

“No,” the private beside Ian said, irritated.

“Private Kieran Anglas, in that case,” Corporal Wesshire said, eyeing the other private. “You’ll forgive him. For the obvious reasons.”

There was a pause that might have been awkward, but
Corporal Wesshire was just giving Ian an opportunity to ask what that meant, in case he didn’t know.

“Are you standing at attention?”
Corporal Wesshire asked after a few seconds as he stood and stretched his neck. “You mustn’t keep that sort of behavior up, or you’re liable to be promoted. You may leave, Private Anglas, though it would be convenient if you would remain available in case the door needs to be answered again.”

“Yes, sir,” Kieran said, throwing together an honor salute before leaving the room.

“Please excuse Private Anglas,” Corporal Wesshire said as he shut down his display and folded it up inside one of his pockets. “While many often forget their manners, he does his best to misplace them when the captain isn’t present.”

“
Captain Marsden is gone, then?” Ian asked, somewhat afraid of it sounding like an obvious—rather than a necessary—question.

“Yes,”
Corporal Wesshire said. “He’ll be away on business until probably much later tonight. Our company is to leave tomorrow morning for Alcatel where we’ll rendezvous with our charges.”

“
Good,” Ian said, stepping aside as Corporal Wesshire walked toward the small counter and set of cabinets that ran along one side of the parlor.

Ian
was unashamedly impressed. It always thrilled him to discover a new kind of person that a few minutes before he would have never imagined. And this man, only a few years older than Ian as far as he could tell, certainly fit that bill. As Ian stood there, watching the corporal, he was slightly self-conscious of his reaction, but excited. He’d dreamed a long time about joining the army and meeting incredible people, but he hadn’t known that any person could exude such a concentration of confidence and composure. Corporal Wesshire didn’t strike him for some reason as the kind of person born into the higher classes, but rather one who found no difficulty compensating through his own means. The few times Ian had previously interacted with people of considerably higher social standing hadn’t been too much trouble, but he felt a bit awkward now. All Ian could think of, as he was trying to think of what to say next, was that this man wasn’t going to remain a corporal for very long.

“Are we to eat at a specified time?” Ian asked, paying close attention to the impression of his words.

“No,” Corporal Wesshire said, not turning from what he was preparing on the counter.

“Oh,” Ian said, waiting until it was clear that
the other wasn’t going to say anything else. “Where shall I put my gear?”

Corporal Wesshire
finished with his food and put the rest into the cupboards. He turned back toward Ian, saucer and small sandwich in hand as he considered him for a moment.

“Are you from the Laxley
Borough of Wilome?” the corporal asked.

“Yes,” Ian said, ac
cepting the change of subjects. A different subject where they were both involved was better than none at all.

“Your dialect is very
slight, but distinctive,” Corporal Wesshire said. “Do you know how to hide it?”

“Perhaps only a
little.” Ian frowned, doing his best to ignore the embarrassment that was rising up his neck. “But I know that sometimes it’s appropriate.”

“Indeed,”
Corporal Wesshire said. He walked back to the table and sat down, taking a thoughtful bite, considering it. “And have you ever been off world?”

“No,” Ian said, stopping at that. There was quite a long list of things he’d never been. “Have you ever been to Orinoco?”

“No,” Corporal Wesshire said, “it is quite fortuitous that this assignment has come here. It seems much has been happening on this world … and perhaps still is.”

“Like what?” Ian asked eagerly, and not only because the conversation was off
of him.

“There is evidently more to the changing of hands for a colony than the Bevish Empire has realized,”
Corporal Wesshire said. “A good deal of … anxiety is present. In many places. Rumors have been spreading that Lord Chamberlain and his host are on Orinoco as well.”

“The ranger lord?”
Ian sat down across from the other. “He’s here?”

“If rumors are to be believed,”
Corporal Wesshire said, not sounding convinced that they were. “A fortuitous first posting for you, indeed.”

“
And we have to spend it escorting a royal holiday,” Ian said, glancing at one of the parlor doors as something creaked behind it.

“Would you have preferred something else?
”

“I don’t know,” Ian said, shifting. “No, I suppose not. It would’ve only been more exciting, I suppose, to have been charged with something more important.”

“The margrave and his family are very important,” Corporal Wesshire corrected, though not sounding as if he cared either way.

“I’
ve never heard of him,” Ian said.

“
As a marcher lord, Lord Wester is not a socially boisterous man,” Corporal Wesshire said. “His ties to the crown as a margrave are not necessarily prominent, but they are tangible.”

“It would’ve been nice to have been here otherwise though,” Ian maneuvered, gauging by now that
Corporal Wesshire wasn’t all that mad about questions.

“That depends on what it is you wish most of your career in
His Majesty’s Service,” the corporal said, giving no indication that he’d neatly countered Ian’s probing non-question.

Ian shrugged. “
Well, I hope to gain as much experience as possible and hopefully to work up through the ranks as much as opportunities allow. And also to get to serve the Empire to the best of my ability. The same as everyone else, I suppose.”

“That’s more than most men ever hope for,”
Corporal Arran Wesshire said dryly. “It will no doubt be easy to observe where the rest of the company’s priorities are around the lord’s family. It’s difficult to believe that they will be solely for the Empire.”

Ian smirked, not sure if the other man had any sort of
humor or if his sentences occasionally just made it sound that way.

“Indeed,” Ian said
as he stood again. “I’m hungry. Is the food here worth having, or would you recommend going out for something else?”