[center][h3]Lord Barst[/h3][/center]
While the squad was still burdened with their morning PT, a staff car and pair of escort trucks rumbled through the morning fog and up to the main gate of Fort Breda. It was there where it was greeted by the sentries on duty. They dutifully stopped the convoy, demanding identification, a manifest, and other documents, but their professionalism quickly faltered when it became apparent exactly who the convoy belonged to. [b]"S-Sorry, m'Lord! We didn't know you were coming!"[/b] The soldier who was inspecting the vehicles went white as a ghost and hurriedly saluted the noble sitting in the staff car's rear. Behind him, the other pair of sentries quickly stepped out of sight to straighten their uniforms. [b]"Don't let my station phase you, I'm a man just like you. Finish your inspection in accordance with protocol, though please do not delay. I have many things to attend to."[/b] Lord Barst, a thin, black haired man in his early 40s, returned the salute, speaking in his usual sneering tone. Said sneer sent mixed messages to the sentry, who couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or supportive. The man quickly nodded, replying with a quick 'Yes, m'Lord', and hurried through the rest of the inspection. In truth, there was no hidden meaning or masked distaste that Barst had for the guards - his voice just naturally sounded this way. It was a slight boon when conducting negotiations, because it was difficult to tell what his actual feelings were, but was not so helpful when dealing with people on a personal level. Once the sentry had finished his inspection, the convoy proceeded through the gate and into the main portion of the camp. [b]"Driver, take us to the NAFFI. We will find Squad 4 in due time, but first I need some coffee."[/b]

[center]***[/center]

A half hour later, Lord Barst and his entourage had arrived at the edge of the field Squad 4 had been using for PT. Squinting through the morning sun and shielding his eyes with the visor of his officer's cap, he strode across the field towards the resting group. It didn't take long for Harald to notice the approaching group of officers (their rather impressive dress uniforms were difficult to miss), and he quickly called the squad to attention. [b]"At ease, at ease, all of you. This visit is not particularly formal, but please listen to what I have to say."[/b] Barst took a swig from his coffee mug and looked around, inspecting the squad that had apparently saved his unit. The large amount of women and disproportionately low average age of the group were two things he noted. By all accounts, that should have been a hindrance for them, yet their achievements on the battlefield spoke for themselves. Interesting.

Once the group had relaxed a bit, Barst handed his mug to one of his aids, crossed his arms behind his back, and began to slowly pace back and fourth in front of the unit. [b]"We have not been properly introduced. I am Lord Barst, the defacto officer in charge of the division that you were invaluable in rescuing at Vasel. For that you have my thanks and the thanks of the men who were able to make it home safely because of you."[/b] He motioned to one of his aids, who began distributing envelopes to every squad member. [b]"Let it never be said that I am an ingrate. As thanks for your assistance and in recognition of your conduct on the battlefield, I have authorized weekend passes to the capital for all of you, as well as transportation and accommodation. The envelopes my aid is passing out contain your train tickets, hotel keys and instructions."[/b]

His first talking point completed, Barst paused until his aid finished handing out the envelopes, shifting his eyes over the group again. Yes, the group was irregular enough, and most seemed happy to be getting some time off. They were a perfect fit for his plan. Once everyone had their envelopes, He whispered for Harald to call the squad to attention. [b]"Right, there is one last thing to take care of - Something which requires a bit more formality. In honour of our success in the recent battle, all soldiers involved - militia and army alike - have been awarded the Vasel Service Medal."[/b] Once the squad was at attention, another aid produced a medal box, and Lord Barst began calling fourth the older members of the squad.

[b]"Private Fairglaive. Please step forward."[/b] Since the squad was in their PT uniforms and not proper dress uniforms, instead of pinning the medal to her shirt, he simply shook her hand and passed her the medal in it's box. [b]"The prisoner you captured provided us with useful intelligence and was part of a POW trade. Congratulations."[/b]

[b]"Private Hexner. Please step forward."[/b] As he shook her hand and gave her the medal, he addressed her accomplishments in the battle. [b]"I heard you were wounded in action but still assisted another squad member with your medical supplies. We'll have to work on getting you a Crimson Heart for that. Congratulations."[/b]

[b]"Private Jatmoore. Please step forward."[/b] When she approached Lord Barst, he looked her up and down, before nodding in approval. [b]"You're turning into a fine young soldier. Your father will be pleased to hear of this when I speak with him next. Congratulations."[/b] He shook her hand and gave her the medal before dismissing her.

[b]"Private First Class Rousseau. Please step forward."[/b] Again, he shook her hand and passed her a medal. [b]"Reports say that you were vital in clearing houses and covering the wounded. You've earned this medal well. Congratulations."[/b]

[b]"Private First Class Carn. Please step forward."[/b] Lord Barst wasn't a particularly short man by any means (though he was of below average height), but Evan absolutely towered over him, causing Barst to have to crane his neck while addressing him. [b]"While not an active participant in the main assault, your driving skills saved your Sergeant's life and assisted with the pathfinding tasks. That's as good a reason as any. Congratulations."[/b] Once he dismissed Evan, he flexed his hand (which had nearly been crushed by the mechanic's vicelike grip), and cracked his neck.

[b]"Corporal Hunt. Please step forward."[/b] When Hunt came forward, it quickly became apparent that Barst had more than just a medal on his mind. When he shook Hunt's hand, he passed him another envelope. [b]"Keep this quiet and let the squad enjoy their Saturday. On Sunday I have a task for you. Gather the squad and follow the instructions in this letter."[/b] With that said, Lord Barst handed him his medal and continued. [b]"You were thrust into command of your squad, saved one of our tank crews, and performed admirably in the field, despite your low rank. By all rights, this medal is a paltry reward for your achievements, but please accept it as a symbol of Gallia's gratitude. Congratulations."[/b]

[b]"Sergeant Harald. Please step forward."[/b] When Harald came forward, Lord Barst surprised some of his aids by shaking the Darcsen's hand and treating him with the same respect as everyone else in the squad, rather than looking down on him. The news he brought was not entirely good, though. [b]"Unfortunately you will not be joining the squad in their trip to Randgriz. I have a job for you of utmost importance. Please follow the instructions in this envelope and burn it after reading."[/b] With that, he handed the Sergeant a letter and two medal boxes. [b]"In honour of your achievements and in recognition in your grave wounds sustained in the service of Gallia, I hereby award you the Crimson Heart and Vasel Service Medal. Congratulations."[/b]

Once the medals were distributed and everyone had returned to their positions, Barst made one final announcement. [b]"Ordinarily I would have held a proper awards ceremony, but time is very short. Your train leaves three hours from now and one of my drivers will take you to the station. Corporal Hunt! Sergeant Harald has business with me, so you will be in charge of the squad for this weekend. See to it that they pack well and enjoy themselves, understood? Farewell."[/b] With that, the Lord spun on his heel and departed, leaving his aids scrambling to catch up with his brisk pace. Those with either a prior knowledge of the military, or an in depth knowledge of Gallian aristocracy would notice that the man's shoulder cape had an odd insignia on it. Instead of belonging to a military division or squad like most other officers, Lord Barst's signified something entirely different - It belonged to the Gallian Intelligence Service.