Even with his advancing years, Darryn Treyburn struck an imposing figure in his military uniform. Though hardly a giant of a man, his squared shoulders and perfect posture made many assume him to be taller. It was true, too, that his impeccable uniform and the air of authoritative disdain for those in his presence made men feel much smaller, so that the overall effect created gave most the impression of a hulking bear prepared to pounce. Coming to know the man only confirmed the illusion; Treyburn expected the men beneath him to meet the highest standards and to obey his commands to the letter. Failure and creativity alike were met with harsh discipline, while the rewards for loyalty and conformation were an acceptance into one of the toughest and most respected units in Uthlyn. Treyburn's unit was known for their unwavering loyalty to their commander, the fierceness with which they fought, and a well-deserved arrogance that only fools questioned. This was a man to be respected and feared. He was the sort of man younger generations might someday make into a legend, should Treyburn be lucky enough to see the battlefield yet.
All of this Riordan Fontaine accepted without question, because he had served under Treyburn as a young man himself. What he could not understand, however, was how such a man had sired Redly and Reagan. It was certainly not for their lack of enthusiasm or ability on the battlefield -- both, in so far as he could tell, were natural soldiers. Where their father was reserved and stoic, his sons were like every other young man under his command: young, brash, and more interested in women and drink than in training and discipline. There was nothing wrong with that, of course -- they had all been young once, except, perhaps, for Darryn Treyburn -- but they were not the exceptional and singular soldiers their father had been even at Redly's age. Well, there was no help for that, nor would he ask for it if there were. He enjoyed the company of the younger Treyburns and their antics.
Except for this last one. This last antic had nearly cost Redly Treyburn his life. Fontaine had come to deliver the news personally to the senior Treyburn out of respect. As a father himself, he imagined he could understand how Treyburn might feel receiving the news from a messenger, but, if Fontaine delivered the message personally, he could reassure the man that his sons were both alright.
Treyburn arrived promptly with his usual, businesslike handshake and grim expression. "Fontaine," he said, cordial in spite of his soured countenance. "What brings you to the Third today?"
"I have some news for you regarding your son, Redly." Treyburn gestured for him to sit, then, and so he accepted the proffered seat before continuing. "As you know, Redly is under my command in the Fifth. He's alright, but there's been an accident."
"An accident?" the elder Treyburn repeated in a cool tone. "What kind of accident?"
"There was a minor eruption. The investigating officer reported that Redly had put too much powder into a device he had fashioned. I'm sure you know he has a knack for such thi--"
Treyburn lifted a hand to stop him. "He was wounded, I take it."
"Yes, sir," Fontaine responded immediately, though not without a frown of his own now. "There was shrapnel. He's lost an eye, and he'll bear some scars for the rest of his life, but he will survive."
"And where is he now?"
"I believe his brother has taken him home."
Until this point, Treyburn's voice had remained neutral, and the man himself was ever the composed commander. It hadn't surprised Fontaine really, knowing him as well as he did. It did surprise him, however, when he growled out, "What the deuce was Braxton doing there? He has his own duties!"
"Braxton?" Fontaine had nearly forgotten Treyburn's second son... "Ah, no. I've never met Braxton, I'm afraid. Reagan's the one who's taken him home."
Treyburn said nothing; he was watching Fontaine so sharply the man felt like a cat who had caught the eye of a hungry hawk. After a moment, Fontaine cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. "Surely, you knew your son Reagan was also enlisted in the Fifth? It's been, hell, five years or so now."
The senior officer nodded slightly, fingers stroking his beard in a way that always meant he was calculating. "You're dismissed, Fontaine."
"Yes, sir."
----------
Redly had never been an idle man, nor was he a man who spent a great deal of time feeling sorry for himself. The accident, therefore, was just an unfortunate set-back that had forced him to rethink his assumptions about the reactions of black powder under pressure. It was a lesson he would not forget soon...because it all itched something awful! The scars that had settled along his face, neck, and shoulders were healing slowly, and the new, pink skin beneath was driving him mad! It seemed that no amount of soothing lotions would stop that infernal itch, either!
The only thing that didn't itch -- not like the rest of him itched -- was his eye. His missing eye ached dully, and, even though he knew it was no longer there, his body, apparently, had not yet made that connection. At least, he thought, his eyepatched looked dashing...
The sudden knock on his door made him look up from the rifle he was tinkering with curiously. This little cabin out in the middle of nowhere had become a sort of sanctuary -- not only for him, but also for his younger sister. Visitors were unusual indeed, particularly this time of the year...
Setting his tools down, he opened the door to find himself face to face with the very last people he had ever wanted to grace his doorstep: his parents. Darryn Treyburn stood before him in his uniform, with his lovely wife at his side. He knew better than to think his parents had come to check on him, but, even if that thought had a flicker in Redly's mind, Darryn quickly dispelled it.
"Where's Jana?"
The thunder in that voice demanded a truthful answer. Redly lifted his chin slightly to meet his father's eyes unflinchingly. His father's commanding presence had not worked on Redly in some time. "I don't know."
There was a flash of recognizable anger in Darryn's eyes, and he roughly pushed past Redly to enter the small cabin. Still a little unsteady on his feet, Redly was no match for the older man; he fell backwards against the doorframe, in one piece but now glaring in his father's wake. Darryn ignored him entirely, instead studying the cabin. "I know you've been hiding her in the army. As Reagan. Where is she?"
Redly felt his face pale. How had they found out? After five years, how on earth had his parents found out the truth?
Rose swept into the room next, looking like every bit the lady. "You thought you were protecting your sister, Redly. We understand. But it is a lady's duty to marry, not to wear armor and practice swordplay with the men."
