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Originally posted by Lancer
Secrecy the word of the day, confusion to the enemy! Entering the great hall, handing off cloak and hat to the ancient manservant whose manner was that of a man who had served far greater than presently, Lt Lancer imagined he exuded confidence. There they were by god, the great men upon whose broad shoulders empire was founded, an now so grievously tested. Map tables strewn with all knowledge geographical, with dispositions of the strength of the nation portrayed, the grist of these same great men's mill.
Heady company indeed.
I was ready, of this I was sure. Trained in the early battles, promoted upon the deck of a sinking ship to the first rank of officer. I was ready for that which I knew, unsettled by that which I know not but which was to befall me that moment. For out of a group of young officers emerged a fellow of like rank carrying a common maids toilet brush who addressed me, "Lancer is it? Promoted when? "November this year" I replyed, and you are? "Jarvis, promoted in October, I'm the senior" he said with a smirk, and continued, "I have a mission for you Lancer, your first command as it were." With this he handed me the toilet brush. "What's this then!" I exclaimed. Jarvis was keen to share his news, "you are the most junior, you swab out the head. That brush is your first command. There's no rank allowed in this place below our much acclaimed attainment, this duty therefore falls to us, or to be more precise, to you. Follow the stench, there will you find..." his voice faded as distracted by a page he walked off.
...and so gentlemen began my carreer in this very hall more years hence than I care to share. As the duty passed from the shoulders of those who before me came, so it will one day fall to you. Be ready! Your empire needs you in this dark hour, this new foe knows no mercy, so we shall meet out his due upon him or struggle to the last ounce of strength of the last man to carry the flag of our fathers.
Let there be no quitters here among the wabbits.
Secrecy the word of the day, confusion to the enemy! Entering the great hall, handing off cloak and hat to the ancient manservant whose manner was that of a man who had served far greater than presently, Lt Lancer imagined he exuded confidence. There they were by god, the great men upon whose broad shoulders empire was founded, an now so grievously tested. Map tables strewn with all knowledge geographical, with dispositions of the strength of the nation portrayed, the grist of these same great men's mill.
Heady company indeed.
I was ready, of this I was sure. Trained in the early battles, promoted upon the deck of a sinking ship to the first rank of officer. I was ready for that which I knew, unsettled by that which I know not but which was to befall me that moment. For out of a group of young officers emerged a fellow of like rank carrying a common maids toilet brush who addressed me, "Lancer is it? Promoted when? "November this year" I replyed, and you are? "Jarvis, promoted in October, I'm the senior" he said with a smirk, and continued, "I have a mission for you Lancer, your first command as it were." With this he handed me the toilet brush. "What's this then!" I exclaimed. Jarvis was keen to share his news, "you are the most junior, you swab out the head. That brush is your first command. There's no rank allowed in this place below our much acclaimed attainment, this duty therefore falls to us, or to be more precise, to you. Follow the stench, there will you find..." his voice faded as distracted by a page he walked off.
...and so gentlemen began my carreer in this very hall more years hence than I care to share. As the duty passed from the shoulders of those who before me came, so it will one day fall to you. Be ready! Your empire needs you in this dark hour, this new foe knows no mercy, so we shall meet out his due upon him or struggle to the last ounce of strength of the last man to carry the flag of our fathers.
Let there be no quitters here among the wabbits.
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