Chapter Thirty: Points on the Hudson

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*Merry Christmas! As a gift, I decided to make this chapter longer- I hope you're happy lol

A Quaker is a member of the Religious Society of Friends. Quakers are united in the belief that any human can experience the light within (The Holy spirit). Among other things, Quakers tend to dress plainly, oppose slavery and refuse to participate in war or wielding guns.

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The first time I met General Nathaniel Greene was on quite an average day.

From my peripheral vision, I see Meade entering the room, carrying a bag that's overflowing with letters. He starts heading towards Tilghman, but he pauses when he hears the shouting.

"Damnation, Colonel, it is not your place to ask of such!"

"Oh, so now I'm a colonel, sir? I joined the army to fight! Had I been given the chance, I would write of your cowardly conduct in a pamphlet! "

"Again?" he asks.

"Aye," We all reply monotonously. A bang resonates within the other room, making me sigh. Kidder rolls his eyes, and hands out Tilghman and Harrison their letters. After serving them, he approaches me, leaning on the desk.

"How may I help?" I ask, recognizing his expression. He chuckles, crossing his arms.

"Well- first of all- Lafayette seems to have gotten better," He says, and I sigh in relief. It has been three weeks since we've said goodbye to the Marquis. I distinctly remember him pressing a lingering kiss to both of my cheeks the morning that he left, with a promise to everyone else to bring back some chocolate. He got sick in the next few days of his travels, and he was forced into bed.

While I was extremely distressed by the news, it could never compare to the absolute frenzy that His Excellency fell into. When we heard of the news that the Marquis got a burning fever, Harrison said that Washington had handed all of his duties to Greene and Tilghman and rode an hour to the village where the Marquis was bedridden in.

No one told me what Lafayette was sick with, or how bad it was. Honestly, I'm glad they didn't- aides weren't allowed to visit. For the past few weeks, Washington had been riding to him before nightfall every day without fail.

"That is such a relief, honestly," I say with a smile. The last few weeks were nerve-wrecking for me, and the news took a heavy weight off of my chest.

"Oh, definitely- t'was a miraculous recovery, and America is boundlessly grateful for such," he replied. "The second thing I should mention is that von Steuben needs more whips."

I look up at Meade, and all nice thoughts stop. "Whips?"

"Whips."

"...Huh." As inspector general, Von Steuben can get away with a lot of weird shit. Yet after a moment of contemplation, my conclusion was quite morbid. Meade recognized the terrified look on my face and laughed.

"How else do you expect 'im to discipline the men?"

"I... Alright. If the shoe fits, I suppose." I laugh nervously, looking over my work. After scribbling a 'reduce rum of welsh fuckr's regiment- vS needs $$$' over Vaughan's name, I look back up. "Anything else?"

"Yeah- we're getting another colleague in May," Meade says. "McHenry is his name, and he's a surgeon."

I huff. "What is a surgeon to do with paperwork?"

"We'll have to find out," Meade says with a grin. I begin to reply, but the door bangs open again and a furious Alexander strides through the room. Before I could shout to ask what happened, he had stormed up the stairs to his room. His unfinished letter sat by me, not touched from the morning, and I feel confused. 

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