Who: Charlie Weasley What: Reporting in following a battle. When: March 1809 Where: Oporto, Portugal Warnings: None.
The battle was over and the French were in full retreat, somewhere to the north or northeast. They'd got far enough ahead of the British infantry that only the dragons could catch them now, and the decision had been taken to let them run instead of going at it dragon-to-dragon with the French ground forces shooting cannon at British air support. Charlie hadn't led the detachment sent in pursuit or taken the decision, but he was the senior captain left either uninjured or, worse, needing to supervise the care of an injured dragon. It fell to him to turn in reports, which he was doing, with Godofredo, the Algarvian water dog he'd adopted as a mascot, following jauntily in his wake.
He made his way to Wellesley's headquarters, such as it was, and turned in the written reports, both his own and those of the other captains he'd gathered before coming up from the makeshift covert south of the river. One of Wellesley's aides-de-camp took them and debriefed him, preparing him for a further debriefing by the general. Charlie was resigned to waiting. He'd already learnt how low he rated in Wellesley's opinion: the sole reason he'd hesitated to come north of the river. His relatively low birth and countrified accent stood him ill with the well-born general, and his easy manner and open smiles served him worse. Wellesley's stick-up-the-arse manner was tolerable to Charlie because he kept winning, and because unlike some Charlie had served with, he wasn't likely to complain about the decision to cut off pursuit. It would have cost men and dragons, and Wellesley was notoriously careful of those.
In due (slow) time, Charlie was admitted to Wellesley's presence and questioned again. It was clear Wellesley had already read the dispatches and listened to the reports; his questions to Charlie were precise and to the point. As were Charlie's answers, except on the point of dragon injuries, where he had enough to say that he had to be cut off. The technical details of the wounds were less interesting to the command staff than how long each dragon would take to move and, more importantly, to return to full flying strength. Once those details were ironed out, with potential for further supplemental reports once the surgeons had finished with the dragons, Charlie was dismissed.
He made his way out of the damaged building Wellesley had commandeered to find Godofredo waiting, as Charlie had told him to do. "Well," he told the dog, sounding not particularly pleased but not as glum as he might have been, "that's done. How about you and me go home to the covert now, fellow?"
The dog's answer was a pleased bark as he leapt up and a wagging of his tail.
"That's well enough, I reckon." Charlie brought him to heel and together they strode out toward where his dragon was waiting to take them both back to the covert.