[@Ordure]

"Ami! Ami! Ne tirez pas!" Carson held up a hand as a squad of red-coated soldiers pointed their weapons at him. He showed his hands, slowly. Their leader, a dark-skinned young man with intelligent eyes, stepped forward and scrutinised Carson for a long moment. Carson watched him back.

"Il est bon." Their leader said at last, and his soldiers dispersed. After offering him medical assistance and even a hot meal the fellow walked off. Carson followed, heading into the trading post. He was impressed by what he saw; the fine  marble buildings and ordered streets made a welcome change from the shanties of DC or the rough and ready frontier towns in the Mojave. Carson limped past an old Pre-War barge that had come in from the river as a Synth bureaucrat laid out docking regulations. Carson limped a little faster to catch up with the Order officer. 

"Les pirates attaquent souvent si proche de vos cotes?" (The pirates often attack so close to your coast?) 

Carson was glad he had taken the time to learn the language of Orleans before  setting out.

"Les pirates qui nous ont tendu un piege sont sur vos terres en ce moment meme. Un peu a l'est de ce peninsule." (The pirates who set a trap for us are on your land at this very moment. A little east of the peninsula.) 

Carson slowed again, not wanting to push his wounded leg any more than he had to. 

"Et si vous me le permettez, j'ai une autre question." (And if you don't mind, I have another question.) Carson hesitated as the officer led him through another crowd of people bargaining their wares in a small market. He filed away everything he saw- people, prices, architecture- for the ESB. 

"Je suis un veteran de nombreux conflits a travers ce maudit continent-je pourrais vous être utile pour le bon prix." (I am a veteran of numerous conflicts across this accursed continent-I could be useful to you for the right price.)