My laptop has returned from the dead and I can write more frequently!!!! So, uhm, expect more updates.

Ledra wanted to fall asleep.  It had been a long day--far too long.  The shrapnel in her shoulder was giving her pains, she had a fresh wound from where the big sow goblin had sliced her with a bayonet, and the stench of powder smoke and death overpowered even the smell of the incense in Maylire's tent.

"You called for me, General?"  She leaned against the pole at the head of the tent, her eyes narrowed at the woman within. 
( Incense... )

Words: 641
Muse: Col. Rattan
Fandom: OC

Six deserters were shot this morning--three from my regiment.  I was deeply embarrassed.  Morale seems to be falling as the shelling continues; I would far rather we cease the dismal affair entirely and charge in like honorable people, and my men seem to agree with me. 

I shall write more this evening.

We begin shelling Gambiers point tonight.  Everything's quiet in the camp.  Nobody wants to speak of what we're about to do to an entire city full of civilians.  General Gambiers doesn't wish to evacuate the civilians, citing the high possibility of being attacked by those who we would save from the mortar attack.

I grieve for them.  For the men, women and children who have done nothing to us.  I grieve for the Imperialists, I grieve for the Rebels and even the Epistomancers who still remain in the city.  So many will die.

To do:
Pray for the dead
Call morning drill
Drink

She had grown up there, she mused as she looked up at the shattered glass and crumbled brickwork.  She'd played the pianoforte in the drawing room, she'd taken baths in the spacious washroom with the big windows, she'd fallen down the stairs.  She had never thought that she'd order the place to be shelled twenty years later.

"Nice job we did on the works, innit?"  Major Jankx took a bite out of an apple and nodded.  "It's almost revenge."

"You've been taking revenge for months," she replied with a sigh.  "I hate to be the thousandth one to tell you this, but..."

"Killing everything that moves isn't going to call her from the grave," he said, grimacing. "Maelenia's tits, I know that by now."

Ledra sighed and leaned her head against the warm brick of her childhood home.  "I do it too," she said.  "Thinking that I need to make it worth Maylire's while to go and die on me." 

"She didn't die for you," Jankx muttered in reply.  

"She didn't die for anyone," she snapped.  "She died because of a mortar blast, and acting like you're the one responsible for whom Avashi calls is an insult to her and your wife."

"What is it that's made you so snarly all of a sudden, anyway?"  Jankx raised a bushy eyebrow.  "One minute, you're all evil cackles like normal, and the next you're..."

"This is the house I was born in," Ledra sighed.  "Every winter we came back to the city."

"Hmph."  Jankx tossed his apple core through the broken window and turned to walk away.  "It's just a house, Colonel."

Gen: Gambiers:

I write concerning the letter I received yesterday regarding my thoughts on the matter of granting Corporal Isamera Darwick a commission as a captain after her actions at Arasya Harbor.  I cannot fathom a reason that you should ask an officer in a different division of the army to reccomend her, and so I gather that you want to know my personal reaction to the matter.

While my affair with Corporal Darwick is undoubtedly one of love rather than passing affection, I fear that her comrades will convince themselves otherwise when she is promoted.  I say when rather than if, because as an officer I must do what I would not as a mistress--I would be neglecting my duty if i were to ignore the valor that Corporal Darwick displays in combat.  

While I must come out in favor of her commission as a captain, I feel that I would be justified in asking you to keep her at captain for the duration of six months at least--you know as well as I do that this war depends on politics being in our favor, and you have seen the political consequences of Colonel Medrow's quick acquisition of rank under General Skadron.  

With these thoughts in mind, I leave you to make the proper decision.

Health to you and your family,
Col: Rattan
2nd R:D: 

"Father, we've known that I liked girls since I was eight."  Ledra stared up at him from where she sat at the pianoforte.  "I'm not being improper with Miss Elia at all."

"Don't try my patience."  Her father glared at her.  "You heard Pastor Elia's proclamation--you will not continue upon your abominable path any longer, and you will repent at the Great Stone on Sunday."

"Pastor Elia is not the One God, nor is he a reliable agent of the same."  She smiled as she quoted him right back in his face-- when drinking alcohol had become a sin, he'd gone on a tirade that had lasted for days.  "You know he just makes things sins because they make his life difficult, Father."

"Your attraction to those of your own sex is not natural," her father said, crossing his arms and setting his jaw; he was serious about this.  "Pastor Elia says that at your young age..."

"Fourteen's not young!" she replied, standing up; she rather appreciated the way her pale blue gown swished down her legs to her floor as she did so.  It added some much needed drama to the situation.  "I could be an officer, if I liked."

Her father rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and leaned against the wall--he looked an awful lot like the portrait of his navy hero grandfather when he was upset.  "Ledra, it's a sin.  Pastor Elias is considered a prophet in these parts and it would look very bad..."

"Oh, so it looks bad!" Ledra shouted, feeling her composure slipping.  "Fine then; I'll just go up to my room for the rest of my life and never marry because there's a big man in a little backwater who says that my love and I look bad!"

"Then go up to your room and lock the door!" her father shouted, pointing through the arched doorway of the drawing room.  "Go!  Just stop letting the world at large know that you're a sinner!"

Ledra felt tears in her eyes and ran from the room, but she didn't go upstairs to her bedchamber.  Instead she fled to the stables, to her horse who would always bear her away to the hills.  If her father wanted her to keep her head down, he'd have it; she was done with him.

I finally saw some action today, chasing down a company of militia that put up a fantastic fight for their size--I rather think I'm becoming used to my new saber's grip, as I'm doing more cutting than smashing with it.  I'm pleased.

There's something refreshing about being back in combat; I've long missed the thrill of battle and the assurance of my skill as a commander.  It will wear off after a few battles once the exhaustion starts creeping up on me again, and the nightmares will soon follow and make war a very miserable pastime indeed.

I'm most pleased to have recovered my journal from the bottom of my trunk, although I'm afraid I have little time to write in it before making evening inspections.  I am less pleased by the poor hygiene of the lady regulars this time of month.  Ah, life in the field; it delights me and aggravates me simultaneously.

To Do:
Inspect the men
Wash bandages in whiskey water
Re-Poultice Vorenus' legs and check his hooves
Sort through intelligence dispatches

So, it looks like I'm going to be away for the next week due to my laptop being broken and my available time on my mom's computer severely limited by having two sisters. 

They're all a bucnch of cuhnts!  Taia Fenthrop probably couldn't even scuk an infantryman up and she thinks she's the best thing t ohappen to Agran since the Night Kings!  Gods, she's a twit and I know she's a twoit and everyone else seems to athnink she's FUCKING AMAZING!  For the gods's akesesakes even Colonel Medowrow's less of a damned whore than Fnethrop is and she was a nactulal hwhore for a long time.

Perahrrhaps I should go to bed; I seem to have had rather too much to drink and I'm quite spindazzled if that's the term for it.

To do:
Wake up
Have a glass of whiskey
Make my to-do list
Follow directions

Ta-ta, my dear journal!

*Waits for Imi and tries to ignore her massive Titus-induced headache*

Anonymous has acquired the following information about Colonel Ledra Rattan:

-She spent a week hiding in a tiny space between crates of limes to stow away on a ship when she was 15

-There is only an area the size of the palm of her hand on her back that is not scar tissue.

-She needs at least a shot of whiskey to wake up in the morning

-She has a massive crush on her superior officer's older sister.

-She has a nice soprano voice which she doesn't want anybody to hear

-She had the shit beaten out of her in prison as a teenager for pissing off the local clergy

-She got her nipples pierced a few years ago when she was drunk on leave.

-She's on the good side of the local woodland demons and she doesn't know why.

-She HATES the sound of tea kettles whistling because they remind her of the sound of a mortar shell.

I've just had word from Issie; it appears I won't be spending Winterfall alone after all!  I've attempted to get her father to speak with me to lend some sort of respectability to the match, but he won't hear of it.  He's a difficult man--Maylire's father was practically shoving her out the door, but she'd have none of this marriage business.  I can't say I would have, either, but times changed, and it seems that Colonel Rattan changed with them.

Had another nightmare last night.  I don't recall exactly what it was, but it so unnerved me that I quit the house and went out into the woods.  The bone-sprites were out in full force, and they do sing so beautifully.  I must be careful to avoid the notice of General Skadron &c. when I make these nighttime ventures-- they will worry and think I've gone quite mad to be out in the Anwyrr Hills after sunset. 

Major Prellis gave birth today; a daughter named Lyrenie.  I took over drilling the battery crews in the meantime, and found that I'm becoming less twitchy around the guns as I spend more time out of the field. 

My curiosity regarding General Skadron's melancholy finally convinced me to ask him what was the matter, and I find myself regretting posing the question in the first place-- his state of drunkenness did not make for a dignified reply.  I wish that I could say that I expected infidelity from Colonel Medrow; when first I met her she was a common harlot, of course, and she still has more of the air of a bachelor about her than of a married woman.  Still, there is a slow, steadfast manner about her that makes the news shocking to my eyes, at least. 

I cannot decide whether she is more worthy of loathing or pity at the moment-- I have known both General Skadron and Sergeant Carrings for far longer than she has, and I have the advantage of being as indifferent to their charms as I am sympathetic to their motives regarding a lady.  Medrow is no beauty, and she is far from genteel or even witty as far as I am concerned, but if I were in the General's situation at the moment I do not doubt that I would weep as well.  It disconcerts me to see him in such a state over her, so bitter and grieved.  If Colonel Medrow does not make amends, then I will see to it that my sword does. 

The other goings-on of my day have been less eventful.  Serenity pulled a shoe in the mud, so I must borrow one of Ms. Gambier's mounts.  She informs me that she would greatly like to paint a portrait of me, although she warns me that her skills are dubious compared to some of the other painters in town.  It's no matter to me; I simply feel a fool being a lady in Parliament and a colonel for nearly ten years and having my only picture buried with Maylire. 

To do tomorrow:
Buy a doll for little Ms. Prellis
Follow Princess Stelle when she goes "pheasant hunting." 
Get to a physician and see if he can't make me stop bleeding before Issie gets up here
Call on Mrs. Khazrikh
Have shirts washed

And now to a tavern.

Drilled the troops from dawn to two in the afternoon, followed by further meetings with Lord Arkin and Ladies Wymere and Joclette in addition to making plans for the spring campaign.  General Skadron continues to be secretive and melancholy; I've tried to get information out of him but it seems that he has little use for anyone besides Arkin and a bottle of cheap whiskey.

Am contemplating having another tattoo done; I think a phoenix on my thigh would be most appropriate given my current situations both military and personal.

I wish very much to see Issie again, it has been dreadfully dull up here and though I know she is no longer in danger, I worry about her.  There are rumors of typhus spreading through the Trenchtowns and nobody has confirmed them.  She sends me letters full of optimism, however, and I smile to think that there is someone in this army who thinks it's all a game.  Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but it makes the days darker in the meantime. 

I find myself unable to sleep.  I miss active duty; perhaps General Skadron has the same sentiments.  I am most curious as to what has him so disconsolate.  He seemed so happy to have Colonel Medrow with him when last they were married--perhaps it is her long absence combined with Princess Stelle's attentions.  She is an attractive girl, I'll grant, but extremely obnoxious.  I would be disagreeable too if I were in his situation.

Nothing much else of note has happened in these past few days. 
Tomorrow: Have new hat fitted
Go to Mrs. Chesavitch, have gold lace replaced on dress coat
re-braid Serenity's mane and tail
See Ms. Gambiers about having a portrait done
Go to jeweler's to have pocket watch repaired

And now to bed.