He had arrived at the expansive farmstead ahead of a column of smoke, astride a pale horse.<br/><br/>Well, a column of dust, and the horse was perhaps more off-white than truly pale.  Still, it seemed appropriately dramatic- riding up to claim the farmhouse, and, more importantly, its stables and open pastures, as room for the mounts and men of the 5th Squadron of the Guards' Hussars, and, of course, a room at the farmhouse for his own use.  He had wanted a black mount when he first signed on with the regiment, the better to match his uniform, but as the most junior officer at the time, he was stuck Rozencrantz as his main mount.  It turned out to be a good choice for him- he was a good, but not excellent rider- and he consoled himself with one of the few bits of religious education they had tried to cram at him back in the Academy- death himself rode a pale horse.  Or was it War?  Did it matter?<br/><br/>In some ways, he'd been looking forward to the break, once it became clear they had swept the French up into Metz. Since he and the regiment had gotten off the train from Potsdam, it had been nearly constant campaigning, skirmishing, and even a few big charges.  Though, as a Hussar it had been mostly skirmishing.  He couldn't help in the siege, so he and his men spread out to lighten the logistical load and prevent the spread of disease.  With luck, the countryside would rise, and von Keitler and his men could ride down some stragglers and over-enthusiastic volunteers.<br/><br/>Until, then, though, they had the area to patrol to stay in shape, and the farm to get into trouble with.  He ran his finger down his dueling scar on his cheek- he was rather proud of it- and took a deep breath, smelling the fresh smell of the horses.  He had just finished inspecting them, and his ribs were still sore from that fall he took in a skirmish on the road to Gravelotte, right after he'd struck that<em>Chasseur</em>right down the chest with his sabre.  So much for their efforts to find the 2nd Army!<br/><br/>Well, he'd had enough inspecting.  The Sergeants knew their job, much better than he did.  He just did it for form, to let the me know they were being watch.  "Top shape, soldiers," he said, nodding to the men as he headed out.<br/><br/>Back to the farmhouse.   Josef was hungry, and there had to be some food he could requisition up there.