AN: I'd wanted to get this out in Febuary, but poor time management is one of my failings far too often.
((()))
Dover was warm. Not as warm as Madeira had been, bu so much warmer than Winter in the Scottish highlands that Non found it hard to care. Even more, unlike Madeira, her siblings lived within the port town, which meant that she would be able to spend more time with them than she had since she first set out to sea years ago.
When Temeraire touched down at the Dover covert, visiting family was driven from her mind as duty came first. There was a great deal of gear to unload and stow, Temeraire needed to be fed, new quarters needed to be prepared, the Cap’n needed to report to his new commanding officer, details which needed to be seen to with diligence to ensure nothing went amiss at the worst time.
An afternoon arrival meant they were busy until dinner, after which it was too late to go into town. For the first time in longer than she could remember, Non was excited enough to have trouble sleeping, but eventually she managed to nod off, and as soon as morning came, she went to ask Laurence for permission to visit Dover.
“Temeraire will be required for a patrol this afternoon,” Laurence informed her, “And I have two separate briefings to attend to before then. Tomorrow, however, we should have the time.”
“...You plan t’ come with me?” Non asked.
“Is there some particular reason I should not?” Laurence asked mildly.
“...You didn’ come las’ time,” Non said, shaking her head.
“Last time,” Laurence said mildly, “I asked Captain Devereaux to help you acquire things appropriate to a young lady that I lacked the experience or understanding for. If I had known you meant to visit family, I would have come nonetheless.”
“I should accompany her once more, yes?” Captain Deveraux said, arriving fashionably late for breakfast and seating herself across the table from Laurence, “The young lady has grown so much in the last six months! I would say it is absolutely needed, but it appears someone else has attended to her needs while in Scotland.”
Devereaux pointedly looked at the pretty but sturdy dress Non was wearing that morning.
“Captain Harcourt was of assistance in this small matter,” Laurence said with a nod, “You should meet her before the end of the week, when Lily and Maximus arrive.”
“I have already met Emily,” Devereaux said with a smile, “She is a lovely young woman, and it will be lovely to serve alongside her once more. May I accompany you into town tomorrow?”
Laurence blinked, a little caught off surprise by Devereaux being so forward, but after glancing back and forth between the French lady and Non, it was not hard to see she was fond of his secretary.
“It would be my pleasure,” he agreed.
((()))
An additional advantage of waiting a day before visiting Dover, was that it allowed a message to be sent ahead so that the Porters would know to expect Non’s visit. Thus, even though the three of them boarded their carriage to town shortly after dawn, they did not catch the watch-makers off guard.
They would have left all the earlier, but it took some time to convince Temeraire that it would be altogether inappropriate for him to join them in visiting Non’s family. Instead, he insisted that she bring them to visit him as soon as reasonably possible, something she was more than pleased to do.
As they approached Porter and Porter’s, Laurence found himself cautiously optimistic about the circumstances in which his charge’s family had been living. The storefront was large and well-kept, and the residence on the building’s second floor was also expansive for a craftsman’s home, further suggesting excellence and success on the watchmaker’s part.
Once they dismounted the carriage and entered the shop, that image was partially reinforced. The showroom in the front of the shop was perhaps the largest Laurence had ever seen in a craftsman’s shop, and clearly designed to show the work of two different craftsmen. Glass showcases were a luxury item that also showed a history of success, though that wasn’t altogether surprising with a watchmaker, but not all of the showcases were filled, which suggest the shop no longer hosted two separate watchmakers.
The room’s occupants also made that fairly clear, there was a single man, a woman who was clearly his wife, what was likely his eldest son, and a girl with a strong resemblance to Rhiannon.
“Mister George Porter, I presume?” Laurence said, offering the man his hand.
“I am,” the man said, shaking firmly, “I assume you are Captain William Laurence?”
“I am,” Laurence said, glancing over as Non’s sister aggressively pulled her into a hug, “I must thank you for caring for my charge’s family.”
“You should be thanking my wife, Elizabeth,” George said, a small but warm smile on his face as he glanced at the woman standing beside him, “She has borne most of the responsibility.”
“Magnefique!” Devereaux said with a brilliant smile, stepping forward to take Elizabeth’s hands, “I have spent a great deal of time with the children of the Aviation Corps, but I have so little experience with infants. Could I impose upon you to help me prepare for having my own?”
“It would be my pleasure,” Elizabeth said with a somewhat nervous smile.
((()))
“Let the adults talk boring stuff!” Iona insisted, tugging Non towards the door into the workshop, “Come on, I want to show you the new project!”
After a quick glance back to show that the various adults were fully engaged in conversation, Non allowed herself to be pulled into Porter’s primary workshop, where she found something that was most certainly not a watch spread out on one of the work-benches. At first, non Wasn’t really sure what she was looking at, but looking at the handgrip on one end of the dis-assembled device, then the barrel at the other, she was able to make an educated guess.
‘‘S some kind o’ pistol?” she asked.
“It’s a revolver!” Iona said excitedly, “Some rich lord came in and asked if the mechanism could be repaired; we haven’t figured out what’s wrong with it yet, but it’s the most sophisticated piece of machinery I’ve seen that wasn’t a clock. Look at it all!”
Non looked over the pieces, but couldn’t muster up any of the excitement that Iona had. To her, it just looked like a bunch of small bits of metal cut into odd shapes, with only one or two exceptions.
“What’s this called?” Non asked, picking up the largest of the disassembled pieces.
“That’s the cylinder,” Iona said, taking the piece from Non, “Each of the holes takes a cartridge, so it can fire nine times before you have to reload.”
“That’s a lot of shots,” Non said, impressed in spite of herself, “It seems heavy though.”
“It is,” Iona said with a nod, “The lord who came in was huge, he had to duck to come in the door. It’s way too big for most people to use. He said that his mother commissioned it for him before he went off to war.”
“Nobs,” Non said, shaking her head, “All th’ little bits ‘n bobs. Must cost loads.”
“Definitely paid for in gold, not silver,” Iona said with a nod, “Here, I’ll show you how it all goes back together…”
((()))
“Uncle!” a youthful female voice called out, “I’ve come to…”
The assorted adults in the storefront turned to see a woman who looked to be in her early twenties had just stepped into the shop, her arms loaded down with parcels.
“Lauren!” George declared, moving over to help her with the packages, “It’s wonderful to see you! Come in, come in; Martin, mind the shop, it’s long since time we invited our guests back into the house proper.”
After relieving her of most of her burdens, he lead the way into the workshop, then back to the stairs which led up into the family’s residence over the store.
“Hello,” Lauren said, “I’m Lauren Porter, George’s niece. I’m sorry for interrupting your visit; I’m just in from London, and hadn’t known uncle was hosting.”
“It is nothing,” Devereaux said, breezily, waving a hand dismissively, “We only informed monsieur Porter we would be coming to visit yesterday. This is mostly so that Non may spend time with her family.”
“Wait!” Lauren squawked, “The pretty young lady in the dress was Non? What happened?”
“I have employed her as my secretary,” Laurence said, his expression somewhat severe, “The change in circumstances came as soon as I saw through her disguise as a cabin boy.”
“...I see,” Lauren said, glancing back at the two girls by the workbench, before moving along up the stairs, “Well, thank you for taking her on. I tried to get her to take a role like that a couple times before I moved out, but she always refused anything that would keep her in Britain.”
“She made it quite clear that part of the reason for her acceptance of my offer,” Laurence said, “Was due to the largely-isolated nature of aviator communities within Britain…”
((()))
The visit lasted most of the morning, something Laurence had not initially expected, but once he saw Non interacting with her siblings, he found it difficult to push for them to leave. It wasn’t just heartwarming element of seeing a parted family reunited either; it gave him an opportunity to see a side of Non he had not been aware of before.
When dealing with her family, Non reminded Laurence almost jarringly of his own mother. The details were not the same of course, but the more gentle, careful attitude was unmistakeably an echo of motherliness. How very young Non was, even if she had begun to look more like a lady than a child, kept it from being completely jarring, but it was still unsettling seeing one so young taking the role of a parent.
Iona was old enough, and responsible enough, that Non’s relationship with her sister wasn’t entirely one of responsibility and duty, but with Conan and Tormod, the two boys, it was very clearly parental in nature.
It made the idea of taking her out to war, whether at sea or in the skies, all the more repugnant to him.
((()))
With visits to Dover for Non scheduled twice a week, Temeraire and his crew began to settle in to life guarding the channel. Once Lily and Maximus arrived, the formation flew patrols very nearly every single day, keeping watch for French incursions. As with the other runners, Non was not included in combat air patrols, though she did get time in the air occasionally during shorter training flights.
Non found it to be more or less like life at sea, just with better food and accommodations. There was an ever-present chance of action, with a single sighting of a hostile flag being all the warning needed to have everyone summoned to action stations. None of the officers were even permitted into town after Excidium and some of her formation left Dover to reinforce Nelson to the South, and only a handful of enlisted among the flight crew were permitted to leave at a time.
Non found herself feeling grateful for Laurence’s desire to keep her on the ground for once, and frustrated at feeling grateful. Still, she made sure to remain diligent in her work keeping Laurence’s accounts and making sure that Temeraire wasn’t left lonely when Laurence had briefings or other responsibilities keeping him away.
She also found herself spending a considerable amount of time with Captain Devereaux. The woman had been genuine in her expressed desire when they first met to have someone to speak French with, and they spent a fair number of hours studying and conversing with the French lady and her Dragon, Tarrasque.
Angela also spent some time fussing over Non’s hair, as it had grown long enough to actually style to some degree. This also meant it was long enough to get in her way, so Non decided she didn’t mind the fussing overly-much.
Nine days after they arrived, an adequate excuse was found to bring Non’s siblings out to the covert to meet Temeraire, though not in any manner that Non had expected.
((()))
“Lieutenant,” Laurence greeted, studying the towering man closely as he offered a crisp salute.
“Captain Laurence!” Lieutenant Morgan greeted in a booming voice as he returned the salute, “It’s an honor to meet you; once I heard you and the redoubtable Temeraire had returned to Dover, I couldn’t help but find a reason to come visit.”
“Very good,” Laurence replied, caught off guard by the enthusiastic greeting, “I’m not clear on how escorting my secretary’s family merited a military escort.”
“I’ve spent the Winter running out a band of highwaymen who’ve been troubling the good people of Dover,” Morgan said with a ferocious scowl, “And while most have been dealt with, two yet remain unaccounted for. In addition, I need to test my repaired firearm, and after its last misfire, I’ve been forbidden from using it on the marine’s firing range by the rangemaster, at least until it has proven proper functionality.”
“...I see,” Laurence said, “I presume Mister Porter has cleared it as fully functionally?”
“He has,” Morgan said with a sharp nod, “It has been fired through a full cylinder successfully, and I have been given a procedure for preventing similar issues from cropping up.”
“That being?” Laurence asked, gesturing for the party to follow him around the edge of the covert towards the clearing where Temeraire was waiting for them.
“A detailed cleaning of the weapon,” Morgan said with a tight frown, “It seems that the more delicate mechanism makes it vulnerable to malfunction simply from the buildup of powder residue. This issue was not initially identified, because the craftsman who made the weapon never fired more than a single cylinder without cleaning the weapon thoroughly, due to a personal obsession with cleanliness.”
Laurence nodded, and the two men continued to discuss firearms as they escorted the swarm of children.
“I don’ mean to give offense,” Non asked, looking over her sister’s shoulder at Lauren Porter as they approached, “But why’re you here?”
“I’m here to chaperone,” Lauren said, “And I’ve been serving as an doctor’s assistant for some years now. If the gun misfires, I’ll be able to at least staunch the bleeding until a proper physician can be reached.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Iona scowled, “Mister Porter and I went over everything in detail.”
“I know you and uncle do good work,” Lauren said with a shrug, “But there must be a reason those weapons aren’t in more widespread use.”
“‘S cause each shot costs silver,” Iona said, rolling her eyes, “Only rich nobs can afford to shoot something like that.”
“Silver?” Lauren said, one eyebrow rising skeptically, “I somehow missed that little fact.”
“You didn’t ask,” Iona said sulkily.
Lauren resisted the urge to laugh at the image of the small girl pouting into her sister’s shoulder; she didn’t have to resist long, as they soon rounded a corner of the forest that was wrapped around the covert, and came into sight of Temeraire.
“Good day,” Temeraire greeted warmly, “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you; I am Temeraire.”
“I am Lieutenant Morgan,” the giant redhead greeted, saluting the Dragon, “It’s always a pleasure to meet another man, er, person willing to fight for King and Country.”
“I would return your salute, Lieutenant,” Temeraire said, an extra note of happiness entering his voice, “But I lack the correct anatomy. I was told to expect two brothers, though I was under the impression they were younger than Non, and you appear to be a good deal older.”
“These are m’ brothers,” Rhiannon said, pushing the two wide-eyed younger redheads forward, “Conan an’ Tormod. Be polite, boys.”
“Good day, Mister Temeraire,” both boys said on autopilot, though Tormod said something more like ‘temwerair.’
“I am merely here to serve as an escort,” Morgan said, “And to that end, I will now withdraw to allow the happy meeting of family to not be overshadowed.”
He turned away, and followed Laurence off towards the covert’s shooting range.
“Can you breathe fire?” Conan asked.
“No,” Temeraire said, shaking his head, “Very few dragons can, though Lily, the leader of my formation, can spit acid.”
“That’d make her a Longwing, right?” Iona asked.
“She is,” Temeraire agreed, “A heavywight in her own right; the entire formation is built around her, as her ability to damage ships is so critical to the war effort.”
“‘f she’s so important,” Conan asked, “Why was she up in Scotland?”
“We have only just come off of our initial training,” Temeraire said, “Neither of us, nor Maximus, are fully grown yet.”
As his older siblings began discussing the basics of aerial warfare, Tormod slowly crept closer, wide eyes watching the Dragon’s enormous mouth moving as he spoke. He’d never seen any living creature as large as Temeraire before, and just watching him move was fascinating.
Like most reptiles, Temeraire’s flesh was less flexible than a mammal’s about the same size would have been, which Tormod could particularly see around his enormous face. He was still a very expressive creature, and it was hard to miss changes in his expression and body-language when he was so big.
His tongue seemed to be particularly agile, moving smoothly about his lips as he spoke.
Conan was more fascinated by how readily Temeraire answered any of his questions, and asked some in return. Mister Porter rarely had time for him, and while Missus Porter was very nice, she just didn’t have the knowledge or interest to talk with him much about the war. Temeraire, on the other hand, seemed to be perfectly willing to answer any question or discuss any subject with him, which led him to asking the one question no adult had been willing to give him an honest answer to.
“Do you think we’ll win the war?” Conan asked.
“Of course,” Temeraire said with barely a blink, “The French might have a great many Dragons, but they’re no match at all for the Royal Navy, and if Napoleon can’t bring an army across the channel, he can never force a surrender.”
“Then why are all the adults so worried?” Conan asked, “If we’re so unbeatable, why do they not want to talk about it, and act all worried when they do?”
“I couldn’t say,” Temeraire said, shaking his head, “Perhaps they simply have never been at sea with the Navy?”
“You have?” Conan asked dubiously, sizing Temeraire up, and trying to mentally compare him to the size of the ships he saw in the port.
“Of course,” Temeraire said with a nod, “I was hatched aboard Captain Laurence’s ship. He had-”
Temeraire abruptly cut off, tilting his head over and rolling his eye around to stare down at Tormod, who had just caught his tongue. The boy looked as surprised about the accomplishment as Temeraire was.
“Tormod!” Non scolded, “Let ‘is tongue go! Tha’s terrible!”
“Sorry!” Tormod squeaked, releasing the fleshy appendage.
“You taste quite odd,” Temeraire said, twisting his head around to take a proper look at Tormod, “Did you wash your hands with something containing sheep’s fat?”
Lauren burst out laughing at that, and would not explain why no matter how they asked.
((()))
Bang.
“That is an impressive rate of fire,” Laurence said mildly as the last shot from the revolver echoed out over the firing range, “I’ve come into a fair bit of wealth with prize money; how much did that revolver cost?”
“My mother wouldn’t say,” Morgan said, shaking his head, “But I could refer you to the craftsman who created it. I will warn you though-”
He withdrew the cylinder, and allowed the smoking steel shell casings to fall out onto the arms table they stood beside.
“-These require custom-made powder, and custom-made bullets. I keep a regular pistol because there’s no certainty when I will no longer be able to reload this when on deployment.”
“That is a potential issue,” Laurence agreed with a frown, “While a Captain’s pay is quite reasonable, I cannot assume I will continue to take valuable prizes regularly. Still, it’s a matter worth looking into.”
“I’ll ask my mother for the gunsmith’s name,” Morgan said, “Though what has impressed me more with this weapon is the accuracy. I knew that the barrel was rifled, but I had not expected it to make so much difference with a pistol.”
“That is some of the finest pistol shooting I had ever seen,” Laurence allowed, looking at the shot grouping, “You may wish to look into a rifle with your skill as a marksman. They use the same powder as muskets, and while the shot isn’t the same, it’s similar enough that the same armories produce it.”
“A number of my friends in the-the infantry are excellent shots,” Morgan said thoughtfully, “I will have to look into providing them with rifles, at the least for use as our ship closes for boarding action.”
“If you have the money,” Laurence allowed, “Have you seen action at sea yet?”
“No,” Morgan said with a frown, “I was forbidden from deploying with Lord Nelson, and as a consequence I’ve been with the Home Fleet during my entire time of service.”
“I shall explain a few things then,” Laurence said, “When used aboard ship, rifles are tempting but unwise to rely upon, due to the rate of fire issue.”
“A rifleman has to hammer his shot down the barrel, yes?” Morgan asked.
“Yes,” Laurence said, “And even with an assistant, or even two, handling the reloading, this takes much longer than loading a musket. Worse, because it’s best for your riflemen to fire from up the mast, you often cannot have an assistant on hand to reload them. When a Captain decides to make use of riflemen, they are most often deployed to the rigging with a musket and a rifle, and told to save the rifle until they spot an officer on the enemy deck; often it will not be reloaded for use again during a single boarding action.”
“And in maneuver actions?” Morgan asked.
“A rifleman has some chance at striking a target successfully at close cannon range,” Laurence said, “But unless they can make out the enemy captain, it will make no true difference in the course of battle.”
“Perhaps it cannot meaningfully reduce the enemy’s numbers,” Morgan argued, “But what of the effect on enemy morale, and in forcing them to take cover? A crewman hiding behind the gunwhales can hardly be serving other tasks.”
“...A fair point,” Laurence admitted with a thoughtful frown, “British crews are too disciplined to let it deter them, as are most French navy crews, but it would likely be effective against Pirates and crews of lesser navies.”
“Something to consider,” Mogan agreed, sitting down at the table, “Now to see if I can remember all the parts that must be cleaned to ensure the next round of firings doesn’t cause a misfire.”
((()))
By the time Laurence and Morgan returned from the firing range, the four siblings were seated on Temeraire’s back and forelegs, while Non read aloud from Robinson Crusoe. They took lunch together, and then the party of guests headed back into town, Tormod almost asleep on his feet after having spent most of the morning climbing all over Temeraire’s harness.
It took little persuasion for Temeraire and Non to convince Laurence to allow weekly visits by Non’s siblings. With another child Laurence might have threatened it being dependent on her remaining diligent in her duties, but with Non, that was altogether unnecessary.
Time passed, Spring arriving in full, and the visits became a matter of course. Training continued, combat patrols continued, and every time that Non was forced to stay on the ground as Temeraire and Laurence flew away into potential danger over the channel, she found someone to practice either swordsmanship or pistol use with her. She was far more suited to marksmanship than swordplay, but she knew that officers were required to be competent at both, so she pursued both as best she could.
On the whole, it was perhaps the happiest that Non had been in a good five years, and part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that some terrible misfortune was destined to soon befall her. It was disturbing enough that she began reading the newspapers that were delivered daily to the officer’s dining hall.
She found little to either confirm or dispel her fears there; the Home Fleet continued to safeguard the channel, Nelson still had the Spanish and French forces trapped far to the South, and there seemed to be little but skirmishes passing between the two. Neither side wanted to commit without a decisive advantage, and the flag officers on each side were too canny to allow themselves to be trapped.
Everything, it seemed, was walking a tightrope of balance, allowing Non’s pleasant life, away from any deadly threats. She was certain that such a pleasant dream could not last long.
((()))
