[1815, La Haye Sainte.]

You are a fifer, sitting on top of a crate after a long walk from Hougoumont. It was a cloudy afternoon, like it was about to rain, and so, as you looked around, most of your comrades was gone, except for one. You see a 19 year old boy resting under a tree, his cap on his lap, and his blunderbuss on his right side. He looked half asleep already as he held a book in his hand. You then decided to get off the crate and approach the young man, to which, he instantly opens his eyes and looks at you.

"Ah, hello. Is there anything you want to talk about?"