Acclayne Book 1: The Game Begins
Chapter 19

Cleggston re-read the instructions on the small bit of crumpled paperthat he had been given. Just hours ago the page had been crisp andwhite, now it was wrinkled, torn and smudged from overuse. The nowsmeared writing said this:

'Your squad are toremain stationed in Vallaylii until further notice. The other threesquadrons will move on ahead to Corthus as planned. You will locateGiflyn Ferntill; a well known arms dealer, he has vital informationregarding enemy movements. Any information gathered is to beforwarded immediately to myself and the Palace. Use excessive forceif necessary.

Sergeant P. Filing'

Cleggston grimaced; hehated force of any kind; never mind excessive. By rights he shouldn'thave even been in the military, how he had been promoted to squadronleader he'd never know. He sighed, returned the paper to his jacketpocket and took a long, desperate drag of his cigarette.

He was twenty-three. Ayoung, naïve twenty-three. He fancied himself a poet; though refusedto let anyone read his poetry for fear of not only being mocked, butof being found out. He was twenty-three, a poet and hopelessly inlove with his childhood friend Pim. Cleggston was, by Glakyrianstandards, your average man; tall, robust and with just a slightpodge in the middle. His face was handsome in a fresh, innocent way;with a broad smile and friendly brown eyes. He had a penchant forliterature; a flair for the arts; was sensitive and kind and about asyellow-bellied as they come. Now, as previously mentioned, most ofthese traits were common to your average Glakyrian male- which waswhy most of the army, including Cleggston's squad, was made up offemale recruits. Pim was one such recruit.

In a misguided attemptto woo his potential mate, Cleggston had joined Pim in signing up forthe Cortharen army. A vegan pacifist, the army was against everythingCleggston stood for but being a hopeless romantic, and fearingseparation from his soul-mate, he believed that sacrifices should bemade.

Army life did not suitCleggston; he was as out of his depth as a swan in a puddle. On theother hand army life suited Pim down to the ground and she movedquickly up through the ranks. It was after one such promotion thatPim met, and inevitably fell for Pomfrey; another senior officer whohappened to be twice her age.

Cleggston put on abrave face around Pim when he learnt of her impending nuptials; yeshe was familiar with Pomfrey, yes Pomfrey was a complete bad ass andno the age gap probably wouldn't be much of a problem. Cleggston washeartbroken, he mooned over her for months afterwards unable to eator sleep properly; though his poetry output was phenomenal. He simplycould not compete with Pomfrey; not least of all because she was awoman. All of these years and not once did he realise that while hewas chasing women so was his best friend; and having more successthan him to boot. He had never stood a chance.

Now here he was,standing outside The Bloody Rose in Vallaylii, his squadron of unrulywomen – and one man; he mustn't forget Cloy or he'd have him donefor sexism – sat inside. They were doubtlessly drinking themselvesstupid while he waited outside for this Giflyn Ferntill feller, allunder the orders of the very woman he'd been trying to impress. Itwas a fine mess he'd gotten himself into.

It was as Cleggston wasre-reading his paper yet again, and admiring Pim's strong, uniformhandwriting that Giflyn Ferntill breezed passed him unnoticed andentered the pub. He sat himself down at the bar and nodded to thebarman; who nodded back – the silent understanding that Giflyn waslooking for his usual tipple of Glako Strong Ale. It was not the mostrefined drink that could be found in Vallaylii but he maintained thatit put hairs on his chest. His wife agreed that that was true enoughbut that it was the barrel of the stuff that was forming around hismiddle that he should be more concerned with. Giflyn supped on hisale regardless; a petulant attempt at marital rebellion. With this inmind he eyed the army women across the room. Years of training hadhardened their bodies and their protruding muscles were visiblebeneath their uniforms. He smiled appreciatively at them beforecontinuing on with his drink. He'd always had a thing for a woman ina uniform.

Hazel slapped Flossacross the back. Hard. There was no malice in it, rather Floss hadmanaged to choke on the last of her pint while laughing at some inanething Dexi had come out with. The three women were brutish, excessiveand daft respectively and had been teamed with several quieter girls,and Cloy, with the hopes that they might balance each other out andmake a half-decent squad. Suffice it to say that the ladies didn'tthink much of this arrangement and they thought even less of theirteam-mates and corporal; who refused to drink with them.

“I think you mean'flagrant' Dex, not 'fragrant'.” Floss managed once she hadrecovered herself.

“That'swhat I said: flagrantdisregard for team morale. We should all be bonding right now.”

“I wouldn't minddoing some 'bonding' if you catch my drift?” Hazel eyed Cloy in away that made him feel distinctly uneasy.

“I know. It feelslike we've all just been chucked together without any thought as towhether or not we'll actually be able to work together,” Flosswaved her empty glass in the air at the barman. “I mean, teamdynamic.”

“What team dynamic?”

“Exactly!”she laughed and nodded over to where the rest of their squad was satquietly drinking glasses of water and barely speaking to each other.“Dynamic my ass.” She muttered, slurping at her drink – barelygiving the barman time to put the glass down in front of her.

“Ah, who needs 'emanyway? Right Cloy?” Hazel punched him on the shoulderaffectionately. He winced in response. “Sorry Chick.” She laugheddeeply. Hazel was a big woman in that she was exceptionally tall; andjust as broad. Though she had been this way from a young age shestill was unaware of her strength and so often did damage withouteven realising it. Aware of her clumsiness she still managed to exudea confident air of sexuality which was evident in her dirty laugh andher soft throaty voice. Well, in that but also in her ravenous sexualappetite. Hazel had had more sexual partners than hot dinners and hadleft every one of them heartbroken. Or just broken...either way. IfCloy hadn't been such a chicken he'd have contemplated having herdone for harassment.

“I'm amazed that youdeaned to sit with us Cloy.” Dexi scoffed and flicked her shortblonde hair off of her face.

“Excuse me?”

“'Deigned'. She means'deigned'. Course he did Dex, why would anyone want to sit with THEManyway?!” Floss threw a look at the other table. They were ignoringthem. She scoffed. She wouldn't admit it but there were only threeof them, and Cloy, but five of the others and she was feeling leftout. She didn't like it, no matter how boring the other table mighthave been, she still felt like she might be missing out.

“Quite right,” camea deep voice from above Cloy's head. It was Giflyn. Having beenenchanted by the prospect of three raucous army women, not so much byCloy, he had decided to join them. “clearly this is the table thateveryone would rather be at. May I?” This question was directed atFloss, although by no means the biggest she was the clear alpha ofthe group. That and Giflyn was quite enthralled by her sizeablebreasts.

“Surething.” She smiled smugly as their new friend sat down with them.“You know what we need, seeing as we're clearly the cooltable?” she half slurred as Giflyn scooted his chair between herand Dexi. “SHOTS!”

When Cleggston hadfinished his bout of stress-chain-smoking , or rather; when he hadsmoked the last of his cigarettes, he decided to join the othersinside. He had no idea what the man he was looking for actuallylooked like – he only knew that he frequented this public house. Hemay as well have something while he was waiting. Coffee perhaps, or ahot chocolate. One with marshmallows. Pushing the door open heclocked the majority of his squad sitting at the far end of the room,looks of undisguised disgust on their faces. Following their unifiedgaze he spotted the rest of his squad.

Hazel had successfullymanaged to mount the poor unsuspecting Cloy and now had her tonguedown his throat and her hand in his pants. He didn't seem to mind toomuch. While next to them, and seemingly oblivious to their antics,Floss and Dexi were drunkenly arguing over the correct use of theword 'demure'. Neither of whom were, ironically enough, as they bothsat there with their shirts unbuttoned almost as far as theirstomachs. A rather drunk looking gentleman who was sat between themwas helping himself to an eyeful.

“I think you'll replacethat a demure is actually a mammal.”

“A what? What the-?”

“It's a littlemonkey-looking thing.”

Floss gave a blank lookand followed it up with a whisky chaser.

“Long tail,stripy...”

“OhMy Mother! You mean lemur!”

“No I don't- oh shit,do I?”

“Yes!” Flossgiggled and Cleggston was horrified, if not a little aroused, by howher breasts jiggled as she did so. The man that was sat with them hadclearly noticed as well as he rather unashamedly leant forward to geta better view.

Cleggston coughedloudly from beside the door. He coughed again when no one looked thefirst time. He eventually caught the eye of the man at the table. NotCloy; he was unable to see around Hazel.

“Ah this must be thefabled Corporal I've heard so much about.” He raised his glass toCleggston in a salute, who in turn nodded and made his way stifflyover to them.

“Corporal Cleggy!Nice of you to join us.” Floss slurred.

“Finally.” Deximuttered just loud enough for him to hear. Cleggston reddened;through embarrassment or anger, he couldn't tell.

“Joinuswont you?” Floss patted the seat next to her.

“I really don't thinkit's appropriate for me to be drinking with you Private.”

“Jeez you're such akilljoy.” Cleggston glared at her. “Sorry. You're such akilljoy... Sir.”

“That is it! On yourfeet private!” Cleggston bellowed and silenced the whole pub. Dexisniggered into her hand as Floss tried, unsuccessfully, to pullherself up; managing instead to almost knock over the large table.

“Ah corporal, go easyon the girl – clearly she doesn't know what she is saying.”

Cleggston eyed thestranger angrily; who was he to tell him how he should handle hissquad?

“SorryfriendI didn't catch your name.”

“My apologies,” hestood and offered Cleggston his hand; he ignored it. “Ferntill.”

“Giflyn Ferntill?”

“The one and...”Giflyn gulped nervously and as he did so his Adam's apple pusheduncomfortably against the tip of the blade that Cleggston was nowholding up to his throat, “...only.”

Cleggston paced thedimly lit room. Ferntill had led them to a room beneath the pub, itwas filled wall to wall and floor to ceiling with all manner ofweapons; most of which were illegal. Cleggston decided in theinterests of his mission he would overlook this; for now. He rubbedhis forehead in frustration; Ferntill was singing like a canary, justnot the tune he had been hoping to hear. So far they had learnt thatGiflyn Ferntill was a regular at a brothel two streets away, which hepart owned under a different name due to tax reasons; he was behindin both his house payments and his tax; he supplied unsavourycharacters with weapons- no questions asked (although he did have anarms dealer licence so surely that was a grey area? He wasn'tactually responsible for what they did with them was he?), he had hada fake ID when he was fifteen; he didn't put a lead on his dogs whenin public and he had two almost certainly overdue library bookssomewhere at home. In short; Cleggston felt as if they had heard theman's whole bloody life story.

“Whatever it was Iswear I didn't do it... unless it was that time when I-”

“Shut the hell up!”Floss smacked him across the face, “I am too hungover for thisshit.”

“Wearen't here for you. We need to know whatever you can tell us aboutCholden.” Cleggston sighed; he knew what this was. It was a deadend. Another one. He was always being sent on pointless Intelgathering missions that never led anywhere. They never found outanything useful and any information they did gather was almost alwaysuseless. He suspected that this was yet another attempt to keep hisunit busy and out from under the feet of the decentsquads.

“LadyCholden?” Ferntill asked.

“I don't know. Yes?”Cleggston pinched the bridge of his nose entirely exasperated withthe whole damned situation.

“Why didn't you sayso? I can help you out there... if you make it worth my while.”

Cleggston couldn'tbelieve what he was hearing; he was finally, actually gettingsomewhere. At that moment he would have turned over all of the femalemembers of his squad to Ferntill if that was what he wanted. Hell,he'd even hand over Cloy.

“Go ahead,” hesaid, waving his hand dismissively and sounding a lot more nonchalantthan he felt, “what is it you want?”

Ferntillleaned forward conspiratorially. “Does The Twin-Blademeananything to you?”