Reginald Keystone
Location: Qasr El Nil Barracks (Officers' Club)
Even from inside the Officers' Club, the Lord Major could hear the din of bells and sirens outside, muffled though it was. It was enough to pull the lightly inebriated officer away from the inked comic styling of Japhet & Happy, Bobby Bear, and Oojah the Elephant. He rose from the table and took up his still scabbarded officer's sabre, then walked to the Club doorway. He opened the door and stood within the frame, craning his neck as to best discern the direction from which the evening's disturbance originated. A quarter-hour foot patrol passed through the courtyard nearby, marching in unison like proper British soldiery. Reginald stepped from the Officers' Club portal and moved to intercept.
"Corporal!" he barked at the enlisted man taking point. Reginald's voice and demeanor altered massively from the kindly, bubbly old man that had played host to a throng of out-of-towners earlier that evening, different even than the more casual tone which he used with the local man tending bar indoors. This was a Lord and Officer addressing men under his command in a professional and determined manner. He was authority and aristocracy, having earned his position by birthright and blood spilled for his country.
The addressed Corporal halted immediately, as did the men in his patrol. They all faced toward the Lord Major and threw salutes simultaneously. "Yes, Lord MAJOR!" he responded, a picture of enthusiastic attention to protocol.
Reginald returned the salute. The men had all held theirs until he responded, at which time they ordered themselves in unison. "Would you say that sound is coming from the direction of the Grand Continental Hotel, Corporal?"
"The Corporal would say that, Lord MAJOR." Very enthusiastic.
He had feared this. Ordinarily, this is something that would be best handled by local law enforcement, but this evening was anything but ordinary. He had friends down that way, and unexpected family too. Concepts like "coincidence" had evaporated as surely as wine cast upon the sands, leaving only a discoloring stain on the otherwise pure face of the Sahara. "Quite. Have a man return to post and inform the Watch Officer to account for the absence of your patrol, Corporal."
Since the Great War The British Empire was officially the protectorate of Egypt and trainer of its standing military. This afforded people like himself a few liberties that would ordinarily be denied armed personnel in similar circumstances. Still, taking a patrol out into the evening was a little unusual, without cause. "Corporal, we are officially going out for purposes of post meridiem calisthenics, you understand? Your commanding officer is going for an evening constitutional, and you are providing escort. Now, we make for the Grand Continental!"
Reginald poked his head back into the Officers' Club, intent on one last instruction: "Ah, I say old chap... Would you be a lamb and ensure those papers - the ones that report mean things about my nephew - are delivered to my quarters. I wish to use them as lavatory wipes, you see. Shukra."
