Gareth slowly sipped his drink and considered it while the young man spoke. This was not exactly his venue. It came close to political reporting. Which was tedious. And to report on a conflict abroad required careful research into the local situation and interests of the different parties involved, which was even more tedious. He didn't think that he could easily spin such developments into stories that would inflame Whitby's underbelly. "How many Whitby men are we talking about, certainly not 2,500. Drain half the town, 'e would."

John recalled back his mind. "Originally was going to be 25-30 but they are talking about an entire company. 120 plus officers attached to the rifles." black button bastards he muttered under his breath. "I haven't seen the rest of the details just yet but as soon as I know more. You will"

OCC Note: Nickname for the rifles is black button bastards due to being the only regiment to be allowed to wear black buttons on tunics

Gareth went back to twisting the nearly empty glass. "I'll consider it..." he said slowly.