<strong>Captain Harry Flashman - Arriving at Forest Keep Manor</strong><br/><br/>Harry was in a particularly good mood as he rode the final few miles to Forest Keep Manor. With his regiment replenishing and it's numbers being brought back up to strength following it's return from active duty, there was little to keep a man of Flashman's temperment in the dreary garrison town. The beastly business of paperwork, needed to oil the burocratic cogs of Britain's Imperial might could as far as Flashman was concerned be safely left in the hands of lesser men than he. Milking his status as a seasoned campaigner, decorated with her majesty's highest honour no less, he had arranged a two week furlough. He had happily written his acceptance of Lord Ambrose's kind offer to spend the festive season at his maorial home. For the briefest of moments the unfamiliar emotion of guilt had gnawed at poor Flashy, Elspeth his loving and devoted wife had already borne his absence these last three years whilst he was on active service. However several brandies and the thought of being reacquainted with Elspeth's morally self rightous father and his clan of dour, humourless scots protestants had dispelled the unwanted feeling quite rapidly.<br/><br/>Flashman urged his borrowed charger into a canter, the saddlebags holding his modest wardrobe bouncing on his stallion's flanks as he neared the gated drive leading to the manor. He drew to a halt beside the gatehouse and posed with his hand upon his hip, looking dignified and militaristic as he announced himself to the estate's gatekeeper. His entry was quickly permitted and he continued to canter in dashing style up the long drive to the main building. The horse was barely out of breath, the majority of the journey Flashman had ridden in a leisurely fashion, only breaking into a more impressive pace once in sight of the house and on the off chance that he might be espied from a high window.<br/><br/>Reining in his horse near the entrance to the stables he unfastened his saddlebags and slung them across his shoulder. With his hand resting on the hilt of his sword he surveyed the impressive manor as if contemplating how exactly he would storm it's formidable walls. If truth be told if such a mission had been entrusted to him, then his favoured method would be to pound such a bastion with artillery until he was absolutely certain all resistance was quashed before he ever ventured within rifle range of it's walls. On those rare occasions when he was forced into reluctant action out of fear of his real nature being exposed he was careful to surround himself with more expendable bodies and lead from the centre. Leading from the rear was the mistake of inexperianced cowards, the enemy could always attack a troop from behind and Flashman had vast experiance of saving his own skin under hazardous circumstances.<br/><br/>Flashy flicked a few specks of dirt from his lancer's uniform, before turning his attention to the stable.<br/><br/>"I say, is there a groom to be had?" He called out. "A guest of your masters has need of your service, hop lively and tend to my horse and there's a shilling awaiting for your trouble."