The Uniform makes the man
The quartermaster is also a spymaster
“Here we are, sir.” The driver said as they pulled up to the massive stone and timber building that sat squarely in the center of the local militia outpost.
Feels like home, Balgair thought as he climbed down from the landau and looked around. From what he could tell, everything looked to be in shape. From the outside, the stables appeared to be well-kept, as did the armory across the compound.
“Wait here, I’ll be back shortly,” Balgair commented as he walked toward the quartermaster’s building. As memories of past visits to the other quartermasters flew through his head, he stepped inside and looked around.
“Pardon me, sir.” A soldier whose lack of rank indicated that he was a private stopped him. “I’ve never seen you before. Please identify yourself.”
“Of course,” Balgair said amiably. “I am Balgair Moeldr, the new reeve.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge of office.
“Thank you, sir.” The soldier stepped around the corner, pulled out a sheaf of papers, and ran his finger down the list. “Here you are.” He gave a salute. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“I need to talk to the quartermaster.” The former captain stated. “I need five casual uniforms and one dress uniform.”
The soldier stared at him. “You’re the Reeve, why do you want uniforms?”
“What can I say? I’m more comfortable in uniforms than in civilian clothes.” Balgiar admitted. “The regulations say that I can wear a version of my military uniform under my Cloak of office.”
The young soldier stood straight and nodded. “I understand that, sir. I’d rather wear this one than return to wearing my old clothes.” He grinned. “Let me escort you to the boss's office.”
“Lead on, my good man,” Balgair said as he followed the private past the desks where the ledgers and bookkeeping materials were stacked.
“Lieutenant Parcival,” the soldier called out, stopping outside a door marked with the quartermaster’s emblem. “The new Reeve is here and would like to speak with you.”
“By all means, send the Reeve in private.” A voice called back from inside the office.
The private chuckled as he gestured to the door. “Beyond yon portal lies our most esteemed quartermaster, Lieutenant Parcival.” He offered a half-bow. “If anyone can help you, it is he.”
“My thanks, Private…” Balgair said, fishing for the private’s name.
“Gawin, sir.” The private replied. “If you’ll pardon me, sir. I need to get back to my post. We can’t have some nefarious person sneak in and steal all of this valuable military equipment.”
Balgair, humored, laughed. “Get thee back to thy post, valiant private.”
The private sketched out a bow and returned to his post.
Balgair watched the young man fast-walk back to his post by the door and then, after shaking his head, wondered, was I ever that young?
With a nostalgic smile, Balgair stepped into the Lieutenant’s office.
The harried middle-aged man looked up from his paperwork and gestured toward an empty chair. “Welcome to the Eola County quartermaster’s office. I am your humble servant, Lieutenant Edmund Parcival.” He sketched out a half-bow without getting up from his chair.
“Balgair Moeldr,” the new Reeve said by way of introduction, drawing a surprised glance from the lieutenant.
“Balgair Moeldr, of the Eula Dubh?” When Balgair nodded, Parcival grinned. “Your reputation precedes you. I’m glad that someone like you took the position.” He waved for Balgair to sit down. “Don’t get me wrong. Dafyd was a good friend but wasn’t military and didn’t understand how we think.” When Balgair nodded, Parcival continued. “He allowed the Mayor, the magaidh, and the guard captain to get away with minor infractions.”
“Like all of them leaving town at the same time?”
“Exactly,” Parcival nodded. “I assume you’ve met Staff Sergeant Tackett.”
“I have,” Balgair admitted, drawing a nod from Parcival.
“If you’ll allow me, that man deserves a promotion and a raise. He’s kept your office functioning during the absence of your predecessor.” When Balgair raised a brow, Parcival continued, “After Brutus murdered the deputies, Tackett took it upon himself to place the advert for the position. The Mayor didn’t want to do it. He was under the impression that we didn’t need a new Reeve and that useless Magaidh and Guard captain agreed with him.”
Balgair leaned back in the chair. “Did you hear that Brutus is dead and his pet mage ran away?”
“I heard, but Brutus was only hired muscle, and Brigid was his support,” Parcival stated. “He wasn’t the brains of whatever organization he was a part of.”
“Go on,” Balgair invited.
“My sources, which I tried to share with Dafyd, point to some larger bandit group in the area,” Parcival commented. “Eola isn’t the only town to have lost their reeve or sheriff. Both Merita and Vancoure have lost their Marshalls and Deputies. We think that the bandits are going to go after something big. We just aren’t sure what it is.”
“That would make sense,” Balgair commented. “So, in addition to getting deputies for Eola, I’ll need to provide deputies for Marita and Vancoure as well.” He blew out a slow breath. “That’s going to make it interesting.” He pushed himself out of the chair. “Let’s start by finding a uniform for myself and the deputies.” He looked at Parcival. “What do you have in stock?”
The quartermaster grinned as he pushed away from his desk. “I think I may have just what you are looking for.” He paused a minute as he walked out of the office and called for one of the workers. “Do you remember a few years ago when the council was thinking about changing the uniform to a lighter color?”
Balgair nodded. “I remember it being a light navy shirt, black pants, and black boots.”
“That’s the one,” Parcival said. “Do you want to look at it before you decide?”
“Might as well,” the Reve said as he sat back in the chair.
“If the kid I hired can find it in all those boxes, he should be bringing them in any mionaid now,” Parcival said, then chuckled as the young boy ran into the office carrying five boxes, which he practically threw on the table.
“It seems you were right,” Balgair commented off-hand. “Let’s see what these uniforms look like. He watched as Parcival opened the boxes and laid out the uniform pieces.
The first was a navy long-sleeve shirt with silver threading around the collar. We could put the Reve’s emblem on the right shoulder. The second piece was a pair of navy pants with gold piping down the side. A pair of black leather boots completed the ensemble.
“This will work,” Balgair commented as he fingered the material. “It’s thick enough to ward off the cold, just thin enough to stay cool.” He glanced over at Parcival. “Do you have hats to go with it?”
“What color?”
Balgair thought it over, “Black.”
Parcival absently thumbed through the papers on his desk. “I can do that.” He glanced at Balgair. “I can have yours before you leave here and maybe a dozen by tomorrow. If you want more, I can have them in a week.”
“That’ll do,” Balgair reached for the clothes. “Let me try this on and see how it looks.” The Lieutenant reached up, closed the windows' blinds, stepped out, and waited.
It only took a few minutes for Balgair to change and open the door. “How does it look?”
Parcival walked around the Reve and examined the fit of the uniform. “It looks good. Give me a few minutes to put on the patch, and you’re good to go.” True to his word, it only took a few minutes to put the patch on the shoulder, and after that, it took only another few minutes for Balgair to get ready.
“Good job, Lieutenant,” Balgair grinned. “I’ll be sending you more business soon.”