BoH2: The Chronicle of the Citadel

[Lonestar]

Battle of the Hymn

The Chronicle of the Citadel


By M.B. Bucher
Thanks for letting me play on your swing set, Knife.









Prologue One


My name is Matthew Bucher, the history of Avalon will record me as ”Lonestar”, but it isn’t that, even though I’ve been known as Lonestar now many more years than by my real name.

So please, call me Matt.

As life stories go, mine was fairly uninteresting. I grew up in a white, upper-middle class household, went to college at a damn good school, had too much fun at said school, and ended up joining the navy. To the readers of this story, a “navy” means a handful of wooden boats on rivers. I’ll tell you, it isn’t. It’s barely a glimmer of a navy. Our “watch” is laughable, a company of United States Marines armed with nothing but K-bars could tear through us in nothing flat. If you knew what Marines and k-bars were.

But we’re good enough, the one-eyed man in the kingdom of the blind, so to speak. Certainly, if we were a joke the Western Towns in the Riverlands were just sad. The Morlocks were disorganized retards, at least until that Shaman took over. As bad as The Battle of the Hymn was, we were overrun by sheer numbers, not through any great skill of those subhuman monsters.

But Knife has already chronicled that story. This is mine.

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“Beep-beep”

I remember sitting up and banging my head, like I did every God-damned day I lived on that ship. The ship was the Bunker Hill a mighty Guided Missile Cruiser that weighed more than the combined tonnage of the Avalon, Western Towns, and Citadel navies. One shell or missile had more firepower than anything on our planet.. For the generations borne and raised here, it’s inconceivable. For me, it’s just one more thing that is forever gone. I hated that ship, but on it’s worst day it was, nearly, better than living here on it’s best.

I say this because I see my children and grandchildren not knowing their heritage. All they know is that the quality of life in Avalon (a phrase they would never use) is better than that of, say, the Western Towns. Or the Morlock clans. For man who grew up in a Western, information age society it’s enough to make me despair. The driving impetus to pull ourselves up by the bootstraps has faded as the numbers of the original SDN settlers shrunk.

But, I’m wool-gathering (another now-meaningless phrase).

The reason I was rudely awakened by the little alarm clock was because I was scheduled to go on watch at 0200, and it was 0100. Few things in Navy life were as fun as the 0200-0700 topside M-14 rover watch. I remember cursing as I rolled out of the rack. Then I reached into my backpack to pull out my water bottle, Marlboros, and trusty Texas A&M “Zippo” lighter. I was a damned dirty smoker, and the navy had driven me to it. At least, that’s what I liked to tell everyone, I enjoyed passing the buck as much as the next sailor.

At the time we were in the shipyards for routine maintenance, and a berthing barge was tied up to the ship as we couldn’t exactly live on a boat with no ventilation or running water. I wandered into the head, followed nature’s call, then wandered out. I threw on my utilities and wandered up to the roof. To my surprise, there was…heat lightening over Coronado Island. Having lived in the Southern United States much of my life, I had seen the phenomena before. Never in California(The Earth one, not the one here), though. I watched it as I smoked. I had a good 15 minutes before I had to get my gun. The FC2 who was going to be the Petty Officer of the Watch the same time as me, was up there smoking too.

“Been awhile since I seen that.”

“Yep.” was my voluminous reply. I was still watching, and noticed I was sweating. FC2 wasn’t. “When’d it get so humid?”

FC2 looked at me as if I was talking crazy talk. “Humid? It isn’t humid.”

I felt something bite my neck. I was sure a mosquito had just sting me, but not in the 2 years I’d been in San Diego had that happened. It bit again, and I smacked the spot hard.

“You okay Matt?”

I was getting warmer and warmer. I could feel sweat pouring off my face. I noticed something about the clouds and the heat lightening…it was moving closer. I pointed at the clouds. “Look at that.”

FC2 turned and stepped back. The clouds were moving noticeably fast now, over the Coronado Bridge and would be over the ship soon. For me it was starting to get mesmerizing. I was staring at it, sweating buckets. I felt as if I were going to heave my insides out. I could feel my knees buckling as a warm light enveloped me. At first I thought Oh God I’m going to die, followed shortly with I hope they someone throw’s away my porn before handing my personal possessions to my folks.

Then the dream ended and I was forced to live.


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Prologue Two




Once, when I lived in Sweden, I had read a book called The Brothers Lionheart fairly heavy reading for a five year old But I enjoyed it. The gist of the plot was that two brothers passed on to Nangiyala, the land beyond the stars. In this “Heaven” where all the sagas happened, one could die. Once or twice in the years since I’ve wondered if our new world is Nangiyala. We’ve built a society from nothing, fought epic battles, expanded humanity over the Western edge of this unnamed continent, and for me, even married a Damsel(although Ally would punch me in the kidneys if I used that term) . It’s a story right out of the Sagas, or perhaps Middle Earth.

The first three or so years were nothing short of nightmarish. Finding out what foods were edible and what weren’t. Avoiding(or fighting) ill-tempered animals. Trying to grow crops. I was struck with what could only be called chronic depression, and it took Sergeant Major Wilson’s kicking of my rear to snap me out of it. The Night Watch gave me something to do, kept me busy, and gave me a life (outside of helping with the harvest, hunting, and wishing it would stop raining). When the Night Watch was officially authorized by the council, I was surprised to find me tapped to be a Lance Sergeant under Captain Knife’s company. I was further to surprise I had a rapport with one of the Taun-tauns we discovered, and found being a cavalryman to be easy. It also helped with the hunting of, first other taun-tauns (but we came to realise they were better suited for beasts of burden) then the Plains Boars in the Northwest. The first time I had to kill one of those, I nearly shat my pantaloons.

Soon enough we started skirmishing with what we would come to call Morlocks. My Company (called Bravo Company, in a stunning display of imagination) was in town running through drills. I was trying, vainly, to belt out close order shield formation instructions in front of Captain Knife, always sensitive about my speech impediment, when Enforcer Talon came tearing through. Knife glanced at Sergeant Edi.

“Edi, go ahead and run them through the drill again.” Knife followed Talon into the Great Hall.

I found out later that three of our brothers had been killed. Tom, Dargos and Malecoda. God speed, friends.

That was our first real Christmas.

Well, during the years between that brief skirmish and the confrontation at the Battle Mound we did our best to expand and re-organize the Night Watch. Kicking and screaming, the senior leadership tried to convince the ruling council to introduce firearms, but Lord Wong vetoed the idea and that was that. So, our training regime was centered around classical and medieval weapons and tactics. Except for brief rangings intended to train new members of the Watch, we pretty much hung around Avalon. Then one day in the spring of our sixth year, word came down that we were to take part in a campaign to sweep the Eastern Plains of Morlocks. In Knife’s narrative he indicates I was slow in offering my lance to lead the way. Slow nothing, I sure as Hell didn’t want to take point. Five days into our patrol, my Lance encountered a group of Morlock scouts. We easily ran them down, but Knife grew concerned that Greg(called “Wilkens” in our histories) may have wandered into a trap, so we spurred into action and moved at a gallop to our rendezvous with the rest of the company.

The scene was awful and although it would be eclipsed in later years by the Battle of the Hymn and the Citadel Sieges it has always stuck in my mind. The slaughter reminded me that, training these past years to the contrary, I would never have the innate skill of Marine. Truth be told, I grew terrified of Wilkens after that(Didn’t stop me from taking his money at the poker table, though).

Upon our return I was somewhat surprised to see that only CSM Wilson was waiting for us at the gate. The grizzled Sergeant Major had a cheery air about him and hustled Knife into the Great Hall. Myself, Edi, and Wilkens proceeded to make sure all the Taun-Tauns were put in the stables. I tasked Lance Corporal Brungardt to take charge while I leaned back on a surprisingly comfy bench, dozing. I was vaguely aware that a Lance Corporal from Perinqus’s company, Nadja, had just wandered in and was talking animatedly. Everyone’s attention was riveted on her as she spoke, which was a common occurrence for most of us celibate-against-our-wills males.

“Corporal, let my Lance finish stowing their gear before you start tormenting them.”

“Sergeant, do you know who’s in the Great Hall right now?”

“The Ugly Mug Club?” I said, thinking of the city council (well, minus Innerbrat).

“No! It’s…a Stranger.” Nadja brushed her chin.

By now most of the company was gathered, and the buzzing commenced. Edi told everyone to shut the Hell up and stow their God-damn gear. The company dispersed and us three Lance Sergeants edged closer to Nadja.

“What do you mean, Nadja?” I asked, more than a little skeptical. In our six years we’d only encountered Morlocks and ill-tempered omnivores.

“I mean…it’s a man from the Riverlands in the West. He says there are five other cities there, and every hundred years or so a…group like us is just deposited on this planet. Until us, they always moved West instead of East.”

“Wait, you mean there are a bunch of Cities downriver? Where the Merced meets that larger one?”

“Yes…except they call that river the Rubicon.” The company was edging back around Nadja, and Wilkens yelled at them to get back to work.

“I’m not sure that’ll work today, Greg.”

“Quiet Lonestar.”

My mind was moving a million miles a minute. If this guys was really from cities to the West, then that meant there were more people. Lots more people. Probably a lot of unmarried fe-

I turned and took off running for the Great Hall. I pushed aside the massive dark wood doors, passed a startled sergeant-at-arms and sprinted towards the council chamber. As I turned a corner I heard Knife’s voice.

“You should see her in a corset.” Knife turned and saw me red-faced, gasping and trying not to throw up. “I didn’t think anything could get you to run that fast, Lonestar, but it’s not the first time I’ve been wrong.” He seemed amused. Hell, he probably thought it was the funniest damn thing in who knows how long.

“Sir, “ *gasp* “I think I should be on the,” *gasp* “embassy guard.”

Knife had a look of complete befuddlement on his face.

“What the Hell are you talking about, Sergeant?”

“When we send an embassy to the Western Towns, they’ll need a guard right? Like Marines or something?”

“No one is talking about an embassy yet Lonestar…”

“Yes, Sir, I understand sir. But I feel that I would be, uh, eminently qualified should the need arise.”

Knife gave me an appraising look. I hoped I didn’t overplay my hand.

“Why?”

“Well, before I joined the Navy I was working towards degrees in international relations and political science, in fact I wanted to work for the state department. Also, as a member of the intelligence field I learned how to interpret signals by applying lateral thinking.”

“Electronic signals, if I recall correctly.”

“Uh, yes Sir.” Well, it was worth a shot. Knife had a look in his eye. Yep, the old bastard knew what I was thinking.

“And the possibility of available women never crossed your mind as a reason to go?”

I could hear Edi walking up behind me, he had annoying spurs on his boots that made me want to strangle him whenever they jangled.

“Uh….perhaps in passing Sir. Only as I correlated all the other known data, which, admittedly is limited at this juncture.”

“I bet. Alright, I‘ll keep it in mind.” Knife went off, no doubt to find his wife. I turned to Edi, who shook his head.

“You quick-witted bastard.”

Well, as it turned out there was diplomatic team formed, and I was sent along as Sergeant of the Guard. During my 9 month tour of the Western Towns, I fell in love, got hitched, and brought her back to Avalon with me.

I’m not very good at love stories.







Chapter One: Now the story starts.





I won’t reiterate the Battle of the Hymn, there is nothing I have to add to it. Instead, I’ll start by talking a little about the state of our realm in the years following the Morlock onslaught.

Even if the battle and the subsequent rebuilding hadn’t occurred, it would have been a busy time. Trade with the Riverlands picked up considerably, as well as immigration to and from Avalon. Free-thinkers from the Western Towns were attracted by the mosiac of peoples and ideas Avalon provided. Especially the women. Even the most enlightened scholar in New London didn’t seriously consider women equal to men. Visiting soldiers of the Watch (myself included) were accused of “polluting” the innocence of women with our crazy ideas. The fact that we had women in our ranks drove some of the more conservative citizens to the point of apoplexy. Good times were had by all. It was because of our regular trade and military visits that the New London Assembly was forced to, two years after the Battle of the Hymn, revise their laws and grant complete legal rights to women. Languedoc and Independence followed shortly thereafter. It took Lübeck another year, although Veneto didn’t revise their laws until after the First Citadel War.

Also by our second year, the highway connecting us to the Riverlands was complete. Our engineers and the Languedoc Masons had settled on a Roman-like design, and the initial survey was handled quickly and efficiently. Someone on our end had scrawled “Route 66” on the blueprints, and the name remains to this day. Now the hundred mile trek from Avalon to the Riverlands didn’t seem quite so long. It also allowed merchants to travel at a speed which made trade a very practical concern, and with that came a real currency economy in Avalon. The Avalon Dollar had been in circulation for many years, of course, but for the most part we remained a barter economy. Route 66 changed that.

The cities of the Riverlands were all larger than Avalon, although some more so than others. Lübeck and Languedoc were the two largest, followed by Veneto, New London, and Independence. They had populations, what they didn’t have were well-educated societies, and those that did tended to specialize rather than generalize. The Free and Hanse City of Lübeck sat on the Western Sea and produced some of the greatest mariners on Terra. Languedoc has some of the finest architecture in the world. The rest…well…New Londoners do like their stuffy Victorian style of fiction. But within a few years of contact through Arthur Quinn, our goods were turning a hefty profit, and undermined the stranglehold the Venetian Doges had long held on the Riverlands’ economy. The resentment that created would come back to bite us in the ass, as I’m sure you all know. Some members of the council tried to quantify our GDP, but numbers in the Riverlands were sketchy at best I those days. There was no serious doubt, however, that our economy was by far the largest. The vast wealth generated a population boom, both through immigration and more “natural” means.

Well, that and the introduction of other types of crops and beasts of labor. The peoples of the Riverlands had domesticated a lizard that worked in the same role much as a dog. Now Dogzards are a common sight in Avalon. The River Rams (for want of a better term) produced wool and meat much like sheep on Old Earth did. Large draft animals named Aurochs were introduced, although I doubt they were the Aurochs of Old Earth. Finally, their crops had hundreds of years of selective breeding behind them, and their strains tended to be larger and healthier for human consumption. We had more leisure time than ever.

During this same period of time all encounters with the Morlocks virtually ceased. No matter how far East we traveled, the strongest indication that the Morlocks had ever existed were a handful of huts here and there. Finally, we were ordered back to our city, and in the third year after the Battle, the Watch was instructed to provide escorts to university staff doing biological and geological survey work. Some in the council even argued that the Watch had become superfluous. Fortunately farsighted individuals on the council prevailed, and we were permitted to continue to exist.

Well, Year Four after the battle we found ourselves planning on surveying the land north of the Riverlands. The massive Rhine separated the territory of the Citadel from that of the Five Towns, and we wanted to ensure that everything South of the Rhine was properly mapped and surveyed. The terms of our alliance with the Riverlands allowed us to pay regular visits to their cities. The Riverlands Armies looked on us with scorn, and we repaid it in kind. The Riverlands Armies were treated more as a “club” for younger sons of the local aristocracies to go into, and the training could be charitably called “lax”. Compounding this problem was the officer slots were more or less locked up for powerful families, and there was almost no chance of advancement if you were a peasant. Of course, in the Watch advancement opportunities were few and far between, but hat had to do more with the small size of our army than any organizational error. In contrast, the Watch was organized as much as possible upon the lines of the Old Earth militaries so many of us came from.



Capt. Knife’s company was assigned the task. By this point the massive reshuffle of the Watch following the Battle had led me to be the company’s Senior NCO(“Staff Sergeant“, in our usage), Julhelm was the second most senior NCO, and Brungardt had been lifted to the rank of sergeant. As was the SOP before such a survey, we visited New London to search through their archives. The information was sadly lacking, but unsurprising. The people of the River lands (except the citizens of Independence) were very parochial.

“This is it?” Knife said, with a light tone of disgust. The Commander of the New London Army, Major Tapping shrugged.

“I’m afraid so, Captain Knife. We haven’t ventured that far North, I’m afraid. Although Citadel only patrols the area North of the Rhine, they claim the territory between the Rhine and the Rubicon.”

I tapped the map. “We realise that sir, but look…there’s only one bridge across the Rubicon and you have only one ford mapped. This is dangerously reckless.”

Major Tapping gave me a severe look. The Armies of the Five Towns were very stratified between NCOs and Officers, and he didn’t care much for it when I or one of the other sergeants ‘spoke out of turn’.

“Whatever do you mean, Sergeant?” He said with an icy tone.

I plunged forward. “What if the Citadel has many other fords mapped? Fords you don’t know about? It would be an easy task to sneak across if war were to break out.”

“Fascinating, Sergeant. But maybe you should leave such worries to someone with a little more schooling than an NCO?”

“I went to college, a real college not the jokes you have here, for 2 years and the Navy sent me to school for 7 months, sir.”

Julhelm looked as if he was holding back a grin.

“I’m sure,” Knife interrupted, “That Sergeant Lonestar didn’t mean to speak out of line Major. We’re just trying to ascertain what we can before we set out. Earlier in the brief you mentioned that the Citadel controlled a bridge on the Rhine. Can you show me where it is on the map?”

Major Tapping nodded and pointed to a spot on the river. There was a depressing lack of detail. “Do you intend to investigate the site, Captain Knife?”

“That is my mandate, Major.”

“I thought your mandate was to make war, and train for it?” came a voice from the door. I suppressed a groan. Deputy Mayor Quinn had joined us. The man was one of the biggest, most pompous arseholes I had ever had the misfortune to meet.

Quinn had started out as the second son of a New London noble family, and had spent his early adult life as a traveling merchant. It was in the course of his travels that he spotted one of our patrols and made his way East to Avalon. After the discovery of our city, he milked it for all the political capital it was worth back here in New London. He was a bit of a sleazebag, and I didn’t like him. Hell, he didn’t like me, and I don’t mean in relation to me being in the Watch. Alexandra was his second cousin and apparently he was courting her when I ’stole her away’. The 21st century American in me still says “ewwwwww” whenever I hear about cousins marrying.

“Oh good, the Chief asshole is here.” Julhelm murmured. I chuckled and Knife glared at the both of us. We both straightened to attention.

“Deputy Mayor Quinn, how are you?” Knife said pleasantly.

“Spare me your false pleasantries, Mister Knife. I see you and your Watchmen are just as eager as ever to provoke conflict.” Quinn glanced at me. I waved.

“Mr. Quinn, it’s a simple survey mission. No one is setting out to provoke conflict. If we do, by chance, meet with the Men of the Citadel, we will endeavor to open trade and dialogue with them.“

“Hmmph! I’m sure.” Quinn looked back at me. “How is Alexandra?”

“Alex and the kids are fine, Art.”

Quinn’s mouth twitched. Knife looked at me and Julhelm and said “Why don’t you two go help Sergeant Brungardt get our berthing situated? I’ll find you guys later.”

“Sir.”

“Sir.”

Knife found us an hour later at the army barracks we use while in New London. He looked as if he wanted to start killing people, starting with Deputy Mayors and working his way down to officers in the New London army.

“Have fun, Sir?”
“I always have fun where the distinguished Deputy Lord Mayor of New Long is involved, Lonestar.” The three of us chuckled.

“Alright, listen up knuckleheads. I got your assignments.” Knife unfurled a map and laid it on the table. “ I’ll be riding with Brungardt’s Lance. Sergeant Brungardt, we’ll be surveying the area South of the Rubicon. Julhelm and ‘Star, you two will cross the Rubicon at the EastFord Bridge. Lonestar, you’ll take your lance and head East. Julhelm, you take your lance and head West. Lonestar, I expect you to reconnoiter the fortified bridge that allegedly exists on the Rhine. Lonestar…look at me.”

I glanced up.

“I know you get heated sometimes. This cannot be one of those times. If you encounter men from the Citadel, you are instructed to make first contact and open a dialogue, if possible. How are you with translators? We know these guys are descended from French knights.”

“Yes Sir. I can use Lance Corporal Giscard as an interpreter, and Montcalm is in town on merchant guild business. Since he’s a member of the Homeguard I’d like to draft him as a back up. Biggest worry is whether or not their French is like our French. Hell, Montcalm can barely understand the Languedoc Masons dialect. ”

“Fine, go ahead and draft him. If you have communication trouble, just step off and head on back. If you get into trouble-trouble, I expect you to send a messenger to New London ASAP, capiche?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Go ahead and find Montcalm.”

I saluted and left. It didn’t take long to find Montcalm. He had been one of the movers and shakers in the formation of the Merchants Guild, and was at the Guild Hall in New London. He wasn’t too pleased to see me, but he knew his duty.

The next morning we left Our time schedule was to return to New London in four weeks, which was Knife’s way of saying he expected a thorough survey. We crossed the Rubicon and headed Northeast. On the fourth day (we were all mounted) we encountered the Rhine and headed East along it.

It was a massive river, larger even than the Rubicon. Most of the way it was 400ft in width, something I hadn’t seen in a Dog’s age. I idly wondered where it originated.

Then on the fifth day of traveling along the Rhine, the great moment of our lifetime happened.

We came over a hill and saw a massive bridge. Compared to bridges on Old Earth it wasn’t particularly impressive, but on Terra it was a masterpiece of engineering. A colossal stone structure that spanned 400 ft, complete with gatehouses on each end. Clearly it had been designed to withstand a siege, or at least from your bog-standard bandits(and they did exist). I held up my field glasses, and tried to get a better look at the fluttering pennants. They were white with a Blood Red Cross.

uh-oh….

“Shit.”

Montcalm glanced at me. The look of surprise/vague alarm must have been obvious. “Can I see your Field glasses Lonestar?”

“Sure.”

Montcalm held them up, then repeated what I said.

“Shit.”

Most of the Lance was looking at the two of us in vague alarm. I sighed. After the Battle of the Hymn the Watch’s depleted ranks had been mostly filled with immigrants from the Riverlands. People who wouldn’t recognize the pennants for what they were.

“Shit. Motherfuckers! Stupid, illiterate, ass-spelunkers! ‘French Nobility‘ indeed! Those clowns didn‘t realize who they were? ”

“Way to rally the men, Lonestar.”

“Shut up Montcalm, this isn’t funny.”

“It’s about to get a whole lot less funny.” Montcalm pointed over to the bridge. “There are mounted knights heading this way.”

I snatched the field glasses out of Montcalm’s hands. Holding them up I saw 5 men riding out on Taun-tauns larger than our own, armored in plate. Their Tauns also had plate barding. The lead rider was a huge man, and had gleaming plate. He had to be a noble of some sort. All had Tabards with white fields and blood red crosses.

“Giscard, Montcalm, ride with me. The rest of you stay here. If bad shit goes down, run. Run like Hell. Corporal Glocksman, show’s yours if that happens.”

Glocksman nodded.

The three of us rode out. Monkey shied a bit as we approached the larger Tauns, but I calmed him down. Two members of the Citadel’s party held back, and soon the three of us were facing our counterparts. The Citadel leader lifted his visor. Recognizing it for what it was, I returned a salute swiftly. There was a pause, and the leader removed his helmet. He had a stylish mustache that made me think of Kaiser Wilhelm II.

Even more importantly, he had an air of military professionalism. The kind of hard look I had seen in Rob Wilson and Greg Burnett.

The kind of look I had seen in my father.

“I am Godfrey de Périgord, heir to Kolossi Castle and a servant of his Majesty King Charles XXI, Advocatus Sancti Sepulchri.”

The man’s accent was thick, and I wondered where he picked up English. Also, I wasn’t entirely too sure what that last phrase meant. Latin?

“Mr. Périgord, I am Staff Sergeant Matthew Bucher of the Watch of Avalon, Late of the United States of America. On behalf of the City of Avalon I give respects to you, your King, and your Kingdom. ”

Périgord nodded as if there was no surprise there.

“’Staff Sergeant’, this means…senior sergeant?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you have an officer with you?”

“I’m afraid not Sir.” I was growing uneasy.

“Very well, Staff Sergeant Boucher,” (I grimaced as he mangled my name) “On behalf of his Majesty I accept the respects in the spirit that they are given. Now, I am sure that you will not mind if I dispense of protocol? I am sure you do not know ours, and we do not know yours.”

“Of course not, Mr. Périgord.”

“Very well! May I begin?”

“Of course.”

“Can you think of any reason why we should not cut you down for violating the sovereignty of the Kingdom of Antioch?”

[Knife]

Score!

[Lonestar]

Chapter Two: History Lessons




Back on Old Earth a certain disdain had formed amongst the original citizens of SDN, and indeed most of the world, of the French Fighting prowess. Obviously, upon the opening of relations with the Riverlands the opinion had shifted quite a bit. Especially as the Languedoc Masons would prove to be the best friends of Avalon, much more so than the Anglophone New London and Independence. Still, the Masons were just that; skilled architects who seemed stuck at late medieval level of technology. Like the rest of the Riverlands inhabitants, they were poorly nourished, not particularly sanitary, and, well, narrow minded in how life should be.

The three men sitting on their Tauns in front of me were anything but the above. All were large men, even without the armor. Even larger than the assorted Nobility of the Riverlands, who tended to be better fed. They were also clean; lacking that pervading odor that seemed to follow a Venetian or Hanse Mariner around like a sick dog. Morlocks, these men weren’t.

Godfrey de Périgord have off the air of deadly but cunning warrior, a latter-day Charlemagne or William the Conqueror perhaps. He towered even over his aides (who in turned towered over me) and wore plate armor of glistening steel. His Taun had barding covering nearly the whole of it. I wondered how he was able to sit up straight in all that; I found the damn iron helmet the Watch wore to be a (literal) pain in the neck.

“Well, Staff Sergeant Boucher? Do I have an answer?”

“Err..” I glanced back at my Lance, then at Montcalm and Giscard, wondering what the odds were that we could escape in time if things went bad. As big and heavy the armor was, I had no real doubt those huge Tauns could match our speed, at least for awhile. I let my hand rest on Yellow Rose, wishing she were a 9 mil instead of a sword. Of course, I was always such a crappy shot it might have mattered. Looking at Périgord again, at the helmet in his hands I wondered if he was really looking for a fight. Of course, he might just be confident that he could strike me down before I handed a blow on his exposed head. Still…I was a Hero of the Wall, and I would be damned if giant Templar pushed me around such.

“Mr. Périgord, I do, of course, apologize for any insult we may have given.” Périgord inclined his head, “And if you insist upon it, we will leave. However, I don’t allow my Captain to speak to me thus, I certainly will not allow a foreigner to do so.” I took a deep breath. There it was.

Godfrey de Périgord looked at me intently, and I noticed he seemed to be controlling his facial expansion. Finally, he let loose a barking laugh.

“Ha! You are certainly a Sergeant, Boucher! You sound like my own!” He jabbed his thumb at the man to his left. “I apologize for the rudeness…I had how far you would be pushed. You seem to have both steel and politeness in you. Commendable.”
Godfrey de Périgord grinned again, and slid off his Taun. I was amazed he could do it without help while decked out in plate. I responded in kind.

It must have been an odd sight, a short bearded man in leather armor (we rarely wore mail, except in battle situations) standing next to a looming clean-shaven warrior. It wasn’t quite the disparity between myself and that Morlock but close enough. Périgord extended his right hand, I clasped it (after a fumble, it seemed we had different ideas of what constituted a handshake).

“You will, of course, join us for supper Sgt. Boucher?”

“Bucher.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Mr. Périgord, it’s Bucher. Book-er. It is not much, but it is my name.”

Périgord looked at me as if I were a cat that was suddenly gifted with human speech.

“Of course. Forgive me.” he gave a thin smile. “Well, Sgt. Bucher, the offer still stands. I would not be a good host if I did not at least offer you and your men food and a roof over your head for the night. It is starting to get dark, after all.”

I glanced at the fortified bridge. There was no doubt in my mind that there was room enough for my Lance in the structure, and it did look like rain…but Lt. Col Bucher (USMC Ret.) didn’t raise no fools.

“We accept your offer of food, Mr. Périgord, but I would never want to disturb you and your men’s routines. We can camp outside for the evening.”

Montcalm shifted beside me, and I thought a silent not now.

“It is no trouble, I assure you!”

I smiled. “Perhaps tomorrow, Mr. Périgord. I do not think another night out under the stars will kill them. Myself and my corporals would be glad to eat at your table.”

Périgord gave a nod of slight approval. Damnit, I must have 5 years on this guy and I feel like I’m being graded on the most important exam of my life. Well, I probably was. I became to turn to Giscard, then stopped.

“ Mr. Périgord, would it give offense if I sent a runner to my superiors letting them know where I am?”

“If I said yes, would it stop you?” He said with a grin. The man grinned a lot.

“Not in the least! I just need to know how sneaky to be.”

“Hah! Go ahead.”

I turned and looked back at Lance Corporal Glocksman, who was sitting on his Taun. “Glocksman! A Runner!” Glocksman nodded, and turned to the Lance. Our runner came out, riding his Taun with an confidence that indicated just what his lineage was. As he rode up he began to open his saddle belt for a sheet of paper, but I stopped him before he brought it out. The production of paper was a trade secret with Avalon, and I didn’t want the Templars to raise any questions about the odd looking parchment.

“Don’t worry about it, David. This will be a verbal.” I told the young man. He nodded, with a serious look on his face. There had been few happy expressions since the Battle of the Hymn for him. “I need you to ride West, if you don’t find 2nd Lance before you hit the EastFord Bridge, cross it and look for Captain Knife’s detachment. Tell the Captain that we’ve made contact with..” I paused, then smiled “The Tangos. The Commander of the Garrison has graciously offered room and board for the night, but I’m having the Lance camp outside, and only myself, Montcalm, and Giscard will be joining the Commander for dinner. The Commander’s name is Godfrey de Périgord,” Périgord waved at that. I had made the decision to instruct the runner in front of him so there could be no possible confusion about my message, “and speaks English fluently. Also, he and his men are cleaner and smell nicer than the Riverlands folk.” Godfrey de Périgord laughed at that. “Got it?”

David nodded and repeated the message back, word for word, twice.

“Alright, go. Take Schneider with you.” The dour Hanse was one of the dozens of immigrants in the Watch, and unusual for a Hanse Mariner, he knew how to ride a Taun well. David turned and rode off. Turning to Montcalm, I instructed him to task Glocksman with making a base camp, not too far but not too close to the bridge. “Join us when the camp is established…standard watch rotation.” Montcalm nodded and trotted his Taun out to my Lance. I glanced at Périgord .

“Lay on, Macduff.”

“I beg your pardon…?”

“Lead on, Sir.”

“Ah! I was unfamiliar with your phrase! Follow me, please.”

We re-mounted and trotted towards the fortified Bridge. The structure was nearly 25ft high, with a wide avenue perfect for marching columns across. At the oaken doors we all tied our tauns to a Covered Shelter…apparently as the garrison leader there was a few spots inside for his cavalrymen, but not that much space, otherwise. Patting Monkey on the neck I followed Périgord in, past the massive pennants of the Templar order that was giving me the heebie-jeebies. We entered first a relatively narrow hallway with holes int eh sides of the war…to give defenders the ability to shoot any intruders, I suppose. As the second set of doors closed behind us a room that had the air (and stench) of a combination armory/stable. Périgord and his sergeants dismounted and turned their steeds over to servants, then said to a man who had the air of Head Butler;

“Wiglaf, convey our guests to the dining Hall.” (Giscard was mumbling a translation as Périgord spoke) Wigaf bowed and made a gesture that we should follow. I gave Périgord a look.

“Forgive me gentlemen…we must remove this plate first, while I am willing to endure it during certain occasions, I do not think a informal meal requires it.”

I relaxed a little, “Not a problem Mr. Périgord. Take your time.” Myself and Giscard turned and followed Wiglaf (the name was vaguely familiar) up one of the narrow spiral staircases everyone and their brother seemed to love on Terra. A hall with a long table in the middle of it was just one floor up. Sitting at the table was a Templar who had apparently been eating. Wiglaf gave him a patronizing and the Templar stood, gathered his plate, muttered something that sounded like “Pardon” and walked out a door at the end of the room. Wiglaf guided me to a spot to the right of the end of the table, Giscard was guided to a spot across and down one (more or less…they were long benches) from me. Wiglaf walked into the door that the anonymous Templar did wordlessly, leaving me and Giscard alone. On the wall behind Giscard was a large tapestry that looked like a map of some kind. On the bottom of the map was a great river, with a stylized fortified bridge. Farther northwest, at the mouth of another great river (two, in fact) was what was unmistakably a city on a central peninsula and a Castle to the north and south of it.

“I wonder wha…” My statement was interrupted by Wiglaf walking back in, putting a Goblet in front of myself and Giscard. Without asking, he poured wine into our glasses, then left the room again. Being waited on like that had always made me feel uncomfortable and the silence was disturbing. Even the most cowed servants of the Doge of Veneto would have showed more life than the bland stiffness Wiglaf was displaying. Was that good or bad? Taking a sip of the wine (it was good wine) I looked around the room again. Behind me was another tapestry, one that seemed to be telling a story of some sort. At one end of the room was a large kite shield painted with a Red cross and a different picture in each quadrant. The Templar Red Cross/White Field in the upper left and rower right, and a Wolf on his hind legs with a green field in the other two. At the other end, over the door that I assumed led to the kitchen was a extremely detailed crucifix. I turned to Giscard, who seemed to be studying the tapestry with great intensity.

“You know what it says, Phil? Is it the story of how they got here?

“No Sergeant…I’m not sure, the, uhm, dialect is even more strange than what Périgord was speaking earlier. It’s…I don’t know the word. Old fashion?”

“Archaic.”

“Yes…but, no, I do not think it’s the story of how they arrived on this world. It’s a story about a great battle…or series of battles…that they had over the ’men of the North’, I think. Yes, the ’men of the North’, it has to be.”

“Not Morlocks?”

“No…though they refer to the Northmen as ’hairy men’ who allied with the ’wretched ones’ of the East.”

“ ’Wretched Ones?’”

“That’s what it says Sergeant….”

“’Cursed Ones’ would perhaps be better. Or, for the more religious, ’minions of the Morningstar’, if you believe what’s on the Tapestry in the Great Hall in Kolossi Castle. Or it could be that the writer had…exaggerated matters, it being so long ago.”

Périgord and his two sergeants were walking into the Hall. Myself and Giscard stood, but Périgord waved us down. I will say this for the man, he seemed to care less for ceremony than the Court of the Doge or even the Lord Mayor of New London. He sat down at the head of the table and looked at his empty place, then turned and shouted what sounded to me (by the tone) “Wiglaf! Git yer ass in here!”. Like the wind, Wiglaf showed up carrying three more goblets and more wine, following him was another servant carrying a vast tray with (thankfully) a haunch of plains boar meat. If it had been the ‘guts’ that the locals ate but my 21st century American was disgusted by there may have been an incident. The nameless servant placed the tray down, and put the empty plates in front of us. Again, wordlessly and with even less life in him than Wiglaf He cut off portions of the meat, first for Périgord , then me, then Giscard, then the two still-anonymous sergeants. Wiglaf topped of our glasses. Périgord turned to me and said “Staff Sgt. Bucher, would you care to lead us in Prayer?”

“I’m afraid my Latin is a bit rusty, Mr. Périgord. And by rusty I mean ’non-existent’”

“I think we can waive that requirement for tonight.” (I wondered where he picked up the term “waive“)

“Very well…I would be Honored to do so.”

I cleared my throat and began.

“Oh Lord in Heaven, thank you for this meal and for our Hosts who took us in as neighbors and friends.

“Thank you for watching over my family and the families of those gathered here today.

“Please guide our friends and family, those present and those far away, in the path of righteousness.

“Thank you for watching over those who are defending our nations from the enemies of Freedom and democracy” (This kind of slipped out…such imagery was common in the prayers in my household growing up, and I immediately regretted it. Especially when Wiglaf showed life for the first time and shifted uncomfortably)

“In Jesus’ name, whom through all things are possible.

“Amen.”

“Amen” murmured everyone at the table. There was then an uncomfortable silence, and Périgord was glancing at the two servants, who had returned to a state of bland stillness. Sensing I had caused a greater Faux Pas than I had originally thought, I moved to regain control of the situation.

“Mr. Périgord, may I propose a toast?”

“Of course.”

I stood and held out my Goblet.

“To our the generosity of our host, His Majesty King Charles XXI. Long may he live!”

“Long may he live!” Giscard and Périgord repeated. Périgord then translated for the benefit of his sergeants, who nodded and drank. We all sat back down. Périgord smiled and said “Now, Staff Sgt. Bucher…may I ask a few questions?”

“Certainly, Sir. But only if I get to ask a few in return.”

The smile widened slightly. “Fair enough. The first order of business, I suppose…is what was the, ah, nature of your travel from Earth to here? The accounts we have are 4th or 5th hand from what merchants got to Veneto, and are confusing at best.”

“Ah…now that is hard to explain.” And it was. How did one describe Science Fiction, the internet, movies, and computers to a man who’s idea of high-speed messaging was passenger pigeons? (even that turned out to be optimistic, much to our advantage later on) “I shall try to keep it simple. This is not meant to insult your intelligence Mr. Périgord, but most of the terms were simply not invented even by the time of the New Londoners. You understand I mean no offense?” Périgord waved away my concern. “Very well…first of all, a type of fantastical literature-”

“Fantastical, like tales of King Arthur?”

“Sure, why not. Anyway, a type of fantastical literature known as ‘science fiction’ became extremely popular in our time. Especially when a method of telling stories known as ‘movies’ was developed. Basically, it allowed dramas to be recorded and replayed over and over again…to the point we could view them anywhere on devices as small as, oh, yea big.” I held my hands apart at about the size of an salad plate. “Many of us that were transported, most of us, in fact, were particularly enamored of a specific story. In our time it was common for people with like interests to congregate in specific areas of an institution known as the internet. The internet was created by using machines which allowed even the poorest man to communicate with others around the world. The specific areas were called ’message boards’, and one day all the users of the ’Star Destroyer.net’ message board where whisked away.”

“Star Destroyer?”

“A type of naval vessel in the story we were interested in. And that, as they say, is it.”

“Ah! And what did you do befo-”

“Mr. Périgord I believe it’s my turn.”

“Of, of course.”

“The same question you asked me, Sir.”

“Ah! Well, shortly after Reynaud de Chantillon was executed by the Saracens, the entire order and our extended families was transported by Divine Will to this land. We quickly asserted our control over the locals and established a new Holy Kingdom here.”

“The entire Order?”

“Yes! And later we were joined by the entire Knights of St. John.”

“Mr. Périgord …in my world there is no record of the entire Templar Order disappearing.”

“I know…everyone who has came after us has said the same. Strange, is it not?”

“It sure is…”

“Before you came here, where you a soldier?”

I paused.

“No. Although I did serve in my country’s naval forces before the transition.”

“You were a…mariner?”

“Not really…technician would be a better term. Or maybe a machinist.”

“What do machines have to do with making war?”

“Sir, in my time making war has been brought to a high science. We have machines and doctrines that allow us to kill more efficiently than ever before. In my world, if my leaders so chose, they could fire a missile at an opponent 700 miles away and guarantee that whatever was at that spot would be killed or destroyed.”

“It sounds like a cowardly way to fight.”

“Sir, my father who was a soldier,” (Marine, actually) “Had a saying; ’A kill is a kill.’ It doesn‘t matter how you die, because once you die, you are dead. And if we can kill many of them with no deaths on our side, who do you think would win that war?”

Périgord was disturbed by this information.

“Have you been able to re-create any of these weapons since you came-”

“Mr. Périgord, I will not discuss with you the nature of Avalon’s defenses or troop dispositions. By that same token, I will not ask the same of you and your kingdom’s forces.”

Périgord paused, then nodded. “I believe it’s your turn.”

I pointed at the coat of arms at the end of the room. Better message his ego “Is that your family’s Coat of Arms? What does the wolf on hind legs represent?”

“Oh, that is no wolf. It is a beast that can curse others to become like it with a bite.”

Werewolf

“Is that a mythology in your Kingdom?”

Périgord gave me a strange look, then spoke in rapid fire French to his sergeants. The other two looked at me equally strangely.

“What?”

“You do not have these beasts down near Avalon? I know they are rare in the Riverlands, but not extinct.”

I gasped. “They’re real???”

“Of course. An ancestor of mine killed one that was threatening his King, which is why it’s on my family crest. 5 years ago I myself was part of a party that hunted and killed one that was terrorizing farmers and villages in the North Woods.”

“I…I didn’t know.”

“Now, why are YOU here?”

“Well, a few reasons. The first one, obviously, is that we have a professional interest in checking out the other ‘big man’ in the area. Especially as we couldn’t get any information on you or your culture from anyone that wasn’t shrouded in mystery. The Venetians didn’t help matters; they maintained a iron-clad grip on all merchant traffic entering from Antioch, and they didn’t want us to speak to your merchants. The second is that, frankly, we’re tired of the Venetian Monopoly and we believe both our great nations could benefit from free and open trade.”

“What do you have to offer that we couldn’t get from the Venetians?”

Wordlessly I reached into my pouch felt my hand clasp around the round, metal object, then I tossed it to Périgord. The faint “tick-tock” could be heard.

“Stuff like that.”

Périgord’s eyes widened. “This…this is a timepiece?”

“Indeed it is. Straight from the finest machinists in Avalon. We have other items of similar quality and rarity which you might find of interest. My turn. What’s that tapestry about?”

“A great war between Northern Barbarians…Angles and Saxons and other Norsemen and the Templar Order. They raided us repeatedly, and when we retaliated they got the Cursed Ones…the blue skinned leprous ones…to join them. After a short battle they refused our generous terms, and we proceeded to conquer them in earnest. The Norsemen were subjugated relatively quickly, although it has only been in recent years that the Cursed Ones have been driven from our lands. One of our patrols tracked a warband all the way out to Avalon a few years ago, but since then we have seen neither hide nor hair of them.”

“What happened to the Norsemen?”

“Hmm?” Périgord seemed distracted by the pocket watch.

“The Norsemen.”

“Oh…well, we exercised our rights as the victors, of course.”

“What do you mean?”


Wiglaf shifted again.


“We took the women we wanted, killed every man over 13 years, and en-serfed the rest. It is their eternal punishment for standing against the Lineage of Christ.”

“Oh.” I said, stupidly. Shit I added, silently.

[Knife]

Chapter three?

[Lonestar]

Chapter three?

One cannot rush art.

[Knife]

Chapter three?

One cannot rush art.

Your art was old, as of today. Start cracking. You did it to me, I give you the same flattery. Write, bitch!

[darthdavid]

Awesome!!! Write some more.

[Surlethe]

Chapter three?

One cannot rush art.

Art, schmart; that was genius, and genius most certainly can be rushed.

[Temjin]

I like it so far. Can't wait for the next chapter.

[Noble Ire]

Very good, very good indeed.
I suppose I should get around to reading the original now.

[Lord Revan]

Nice, keep up the good work.

[Agent Fisher]

I really need to getting around to writing my own story in this universe. Of course, I will make it so it does not conflict with yours or Knifes. Though, Knife, I do have a request. Could, in my story, I say that the Watch replaced its loses with some of the Homeguard? Because, I would like to be part of the Watch, but if not, I will make do.

[Lonestar]

I really need to getting around to writing my own story in this universe. Of course, I will make it so it does not conflict with yours or Knifes. Though, Knife, I do have a request. Could, in my story, I say that the Watch replaced its loses with some of the Homeguard? Because, I would like to be part of the Watch, but if not, I will make do.

All shall be revealed soon. Gotta write a few chapters I don't want to before we get into the main story.

[speaker-to-trolls]

It's all very good, but I particularly like this bit:

“The Norsemen.”

“Oh…well, we exercised our rights as the victors, of course.”

“What do you mean?”


Wiglaf shifted again.

It's just then I realised the significance of the name Wiglaf, at that moment I could see 'you' coming to the inevitable conclusion which Perigod confirms in the next line. 'oh shit' indeed

[Lonestar]

Part Three: Era of Good Feelings


In the 21st century Earth, the world we of Avalon came from, The “Western Countries” have came to dominate that planet with an unheard of level of control. It isn’t because we have better warrior ethos (although the average Western soldier could stomp 5 of his counterparts in a fight). It isn’t because we’re “smarter” than the others (test an average schoolchild from America and Japan and see who scores higher). It isn’t even more ruthless and more back-stabby than others (in my time Western armies gained a mania about avoiding non-combatant deaths).

The reason why is because for the last 500 yrs or so, the Western world has led a revolution in the way economies are treated and science is researched. Western merchants realized early on that technology led to an advantage over their competitors, and that led to more money. It was with this in mind we approached our dealings with the Riverlands and Antioch. Avalonian goods flowed in, undercutting the Venetian monopoly on high-quality merchandise from Antioch. Veneto responded by cutting off supply of high purity ores from Antioch. We responded by making contact with the Templars and convincing them, by way of timepieces, field glasses’, and Leathermens that it would be better for all involved (well, Antioch and Avalon) to cut out Veneto. We burned a lot of bridges with the Doge that day, but he and his thugs had it coming.

Then Veneto stopped all trade with us, including dyes(which we had been slow to develop because it was cheaper just to get it from the Venetians).

And so, the gloves came off. Using our skyrocketing wealth we brought in experts from Veneto to give our chemists a refresher course on the science of dye-making. Then we began to mass-produce treadle powered sewing machines, greatly undercutting the power of the tailoring guild in Veneto. Of course, this screwed over tailors in other cities too, but on the whole it hurt the Venetians much worse than anyone else. The Venetians were smart cookies when it came to economic matters, but they simply didn’t have the professional expertise and experience that came with being a 21st century Westerner. They screamed and yelled during Alliance meetings about our “betrayal”, but it was a simple matter to point out that while only New London and Independence had troops that arrived in time for the Battle of the Hymn, Veneto was the only city who didn’t actually mobilize and send troops East. They had fully intended to sit it out. As such, sympathy was fairly low for them. Their economy was crashing, ours was exploding…and it was about to get much, much worse for them.

“I still don’t understand why you gave away so much of our wealth.” Alex said in harsh tones.

I sighed. We were at the welcome ceremony for the new Antioch Embassy in Avalon, and as was common in such large Town Meetings, ideas were floated around with abandon. While there was a small protest outside the Great Hall, the atmosphere was more or less one of cheer. It had been in the Treasury Room that Joe and Andreas had made their pitch, for the first Joint-Stock company on Terra. Coyote’s Company had just returned from a 9 month expedition far to the Southwest. The geologists with him had reported Iron, Copper, and Silver ore in easy to mine locations near a fine natural harbor. Biologists reported Otter-like creatures, a herb not unlike rosemary, and wild grapes. Joe and Andreas proposed establishing a mining/furring station near that Harbor. The California Commercial Company would administer the port for Avalon. What they needed…was capital. With Capital they could afford ships to travel from California Harbor to Lübeck, and cut prices dramatically. I had purchased 1,000 shares a dollar pop. Not all that much, but enough for a man on a soldier’s salary.

“I didn’t give it away Alex, I invested it. Something we can live on in our old age.”

“Bah! The town would not let it’s heroes suffer when they become elderly.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I prefer to keep on the safe side.”

“Safe would not be giving away our money for pieces of paper!”

“Oh look, there’s Godfrey.” I said, thankful for the distraction. Alex immediately changed her disposition from angry housewife cheerful socialite. I knew it wasn’t the last I would hear of it, though.

“Matthew! So good to see you.”

As much as you wanted to hate the guy, and every Templar for supporting a society of massive Helotry, it was, as was all things, complicated. In the 2 years since we made contact with Antioch we of the watch had created something of a rapport with our counterparts. It was odd that I would consider a man like Godfrey de Périgord a friend, but no more odd than being ripped across time and space, I suppose.

“Godfrey. I was wondering what you were doing up there. You aren’t part of the embassy, are you?”

“No, no…I’m just here for the opening. I’ll be returning in a week. A pity,” He said wistfully “Truly a city of marvels. And who is this young lady?”

Alex did a curtsy.

“Godfrey, this is my wife, Alexandra. Late of New London.”

“A pleasure.” He murmured, kissing her hand. Damn but the bastard was really turning the charm on. Alex blushed. He turned back to me. “Matthew, might I have a word with you?”

“Uh, sure. Alex…”

“I know, I know...’work’. Our conversation is not over, buster.” She walked over to Knife’s wife and I silently cursed whoever it was that taught her the word “buster”.

“You are a lucky man. How are your Children?”

“Fine. Paul and Susan are home right now. Paul wants to be a soldier, I would rather he study and go to university.”

“It is a dirty business, what we do.”

I led Godfrey out into the hallway.

“What is it, Godfrey?”

“You should know that our Ambassador is not as….Progressive as the King. He was forced on him by some of our more conservative elements at the Court.”

I gave him my best shit-eating grin. “Court politics is not unknown in our own time, Godfrey. I’m sure that it isn’t as bad as you’re implying.”

“Matthew, he has instructions from enemies of the King to spy on you.”

I smiled.

“So does the Sergeant of the Guard at our Embassy in Antioch Godfrey. What did you think Defense Attaché meant?”

“Ah, but the orders are to search for information to…make a case for war to the Court. I’m your Defense Attaché plans on being a bit less…biased in his reports.”

I emptied my wine goblet. This was rapidly moving beyond my pay grade. “I’m not the one you should be telling this, Godfrey. You should be speaking to one of the Council members.”

“I do not know which one to trust, and even if I did I don’t know if they would take me seriously. Comte de Molay does not have the interests of Avalon, or the King at heart. He and the people he represents would like to see your city in ruin.”

“You need to tell someone besides me.”

“Who?”

“I know who.”

--- --- ---

The woman had striking red hair, and a commanding presence that only Rob Wilson had really matched. She had sat on the governing Council since the first elections two years after the Transition, and had long ago assumed the role as commanding officer of the Home Guard. Godfrey de Périgord, for once, seemed struck silent by someone else’s presence.

We had found The Duchess in her office, which was kept in the military wing of the Capitol. She often buried herself in her work, and wrote long treatises advocating a Spartan-like restructuring of our society. Despite that, she was perhaps the biggest supporter of democracy and public audit in the land. After Sir Nitram, she was the most respected member of the council(although perhaps the most untouchable, because, frankly, she could be scary at times).

“Staff Sergeant Lonestar. What can I do for you?”

“Colonel, this is Duc Godfrey de Périgord of Kolossi Castle. He’s the gentleman we instigated--”

“Yes, yes Staff Sergeant. I know the name. What’s up?”

“Godfrey, if you could relate to the Duchess what you told me?”

“Very well. Milady-”

“’Colonel’, Duchess, or Marina will suffice.”

“Very well…Duchess, I am not a member of the Embassy here. I was sent by my sovereign to warn you that Comte de Molay was not the King’s choice. There are conservative elements in the Court who wish to see your city destroyed, and they forced the choice of Comte de Molay upon the King.”

“Conservative elements are that much of a problem in Antioch? I didn’t know that.” She looked at me as if it were my fault somehow, then shifted her gaze back to Godfrey.

“Duchess, for some years now, since the expulsion of Morlocks from our lands, there has been a growing number of our nobility that desires the annexation of the Riverlands. The growing role Avalon is playing in both the Riverlands and Antioch has given them more strength from which to make their case. Many are now convinced that Avalon will strike with her miracle weapons if we do not strike first.”

“We certainly have nothing but the respect of Antioch as equals on the international stage, and hope to continue to trade as partners.”

“Duchess…forgive me, but are there not, uhm ‘protestors’ outside the Capitol ‘protesting’ our very existence?”

“A small group, we-”

“Duchess…did not your council vote whether or not the begin military operations to ‘liberate’ the serfs of Antioch?”

I winced at that. The Watch had fought, screamed, begged to avoid getting that resolution passed. It was only Marina’s last minute decision to persuade other members of the council to vote against war that we avoided one Hell of a train wreck.

The Duchess remained silent for a moment, then said;
“Mr. Périgord, I said a minority wished war and I meant it. The government of Avalon has no intention of initiating conflict with anyone, much less the Kingdom of Antioch. Why would we? Peace has been extremely good for us. Two years ago we didn’t have half the buildings that we have now in the city. If Joe’s and Andreas’ company gets off the ground, we will do even better. Believe me when I say that we have no desire or intention to make war.”

“It is not me you will have to convince, it is Comte de Molay. And I do not think he, nor the people he represents want to be convinced otherwise.”

“Who are these people?”

“Several nobles, among them the King’s second eldest son. The Heir..” Godfrey took a deep breath. “The Heir is something of an idiot. I do not expect him to sit on the throne long after the King passes. Neither does the King.”

“If what you’re saying is true…then you’re putting yourself in grave danger just being here.”

Godfrey gave a thin smile.

“I am the master of Kolossi Castle. I am not without my own defenders.”

“Why is your King telling us this? All it’s doing is giving us warning. For all you know we might strike with this knowledge.”

“As I said…neither I nor the King wishes war with your city. We hope that with this information you will respond appropriately when the time comes.”

Marina was silent for what had to be a good 20 seconds.

“Thank you Mr. Périgord, for trusting us with this information. Is that the…gist of your message?”

“Yes, Duchess.”

“Well, I’ll inform select members of the council about it. It will, of course, influence our relations with your Kingdom. Staff Sergeant, would you mind escorting Mr. Périgord back to the reception? I’d like to see you, Captains Knife, and Coyote, Colonel Jegs, and Justice Stravo after that.”

“Yes ma’am.” I said, I left the office with Godfrey following me.

“Why does she want to see you after you remove me from the military wing?”

“To ask my opinion on the matter, no doubt. She knows you and I are good friends.”

“Yes..” Périgord murmured. “She is a stunning woman. And not married? I saw no ring…”

“No, not married.”

“Hmmph. How do you think she would respond to being courted?”

“Negatively.”

“You doubt my prowess?” Godfrey managed to sound like a hurt 6 year old.

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, I will, as they say, give it a shot next time I visit Avalon.”

“Let me know how that works out for you.” I said as we passed the sentry and opened the stout door that led to the civilian part of the Capitol. We went outside and crossed over to the Great Hall under the awning. Périgord wandered over to the Templar delegation, while I rounded up the personnel the Duchess had requested. Within five minutes we were all back in the Map Room of the Military Wing. The Duchess related what just occurred, and how she read between the lines.

“He wants us to concede to whatever demands float our way? That can‘t be right…” Justice Starvo sounded astonished.

“Can you think of any reason why he would tell us all this otherwise? Especially with the apparent emphasis he was putting on ’not desiring war’. If he and the King really don‘t desire war, why would they tell us something sure to raise our paranoia level?” Colonel Jegs shot back.
“If they really don’t want war, then they must seriously think this information would increase the odds of us acquiescing to any demands that Molay will make. It’s amazing they misread us so badly.” Coyote said.

“Unless, of course, this is all some sort of disinformation campaign.” The Duchess pointed out.

“I don’t think Godfrey would take part in that, Ma’am.” I said.

“Well, you know him better than all of us Lonestar, that’s why I asked you to be here.” The Duchess said calmly.

“Well, I suppose it is possible they misread us. After all, they have a family of lunatics sitting on the throne…” I squawked and Captain Knife looked at me severely, “I know you count Périgord as a friend Lonestar, and I like him too, but I question the sanity of anyone who claims to be descended from Jesus and that of those who follow him. It’s a family of lunatics, and their court isn’t much better. Add in a enslaved nation and you got one basket case of a kingdom.”

“So, what? You want to declare war on them first?”

“No, of course not.” The Duchess said, “If for no other reason than to make it clear that they are the aggressors. We all know the quality of some of our, uhm, ’allies’, and in a war we can only really expect Languedoc to stand with us unequivocally. Of course, in the event of betrayal by the other Riverland Cities I think we might be able to pull a few rabbits out of the hat.”

Everyone nodded at that. The dozen or so Congreves at the Arsenal were one of the best kept secrets in Avalon. As were the plans for siege engines and steam-powered riverboats…among others. We had came a long ways since the Battle of the Hymn with regards to our war making ability. If war were to break out we could bring a lot of tools to the game, but would they be enough to offset the massive numerical disadvantage we have with everyone except Independence? It wasn’t something we were particularly eager to find out.

“Regardless, if Périgord is telling the truth we’re going to have to conceal this from Molay. So only a few members of the Council should be informed…”

“I’ll tell Sir Nitram, Marina.” Stavro said. “Though, I would like to give him a recommendation from the General Staff…” He glanced around the room.

“I say we play it close to the chest. Don’t declare war, but wait and see what, if any, demands we receive from Antioch.” The Duchess declared, then looked at Jegs.

Jegs nodded. “Agreed. We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”

There were smiles and nods from everyone else.

“It’s agreed then. This is not to leave the room. Gentlemen, you should probably return to the reception.”

I muttered “Yes Ma’am” and left the room, walking back to the reception. I found Alex quickly, and told her that I was feeling under the weather, and wanted to head home. As we trudged along the paved road built with the wealth of our trade revenue towards our modest “Dog-run” house a grim silence descended, as I processed the ramifications of the meeting.

“What’s wrong?” Alex said.

“Nothing.” I answered. Oh God, Paul will be old enough to join the Watch in a year!

[Agent Fisher]

Very nice.

[darthdavid]

Rather than Congreves I'd suggest that you use Hale rockets instead. They suffer a slight range penalty but are only very slightly harder to make and are much more accurate. The key difference is 3 curved fins in the exhaust nozzle which impart a spin to the rocket.

[Knife]

Very good.
I love the undertones.

“I know, I know...’work’. Our conversation is not over, buster.” She walked over Knife’s wife and I silently cursed whoever it was that taught her the word “buster”.

Fix this sentence and it will become hillarious. (I'm guessing; She walked over to Knife's wife....)

The woman had striking red hair, and a commanding presence that only Rob Wilson had really matched. She had sat on the governing Council since the first elections two years after the Transition, and had long ago assumed the role as commanding officer of the Home Guard. Godfrey de Périgord, for once, seemed struck silent by someone else’s presence.

I have no problem with Marina being the head Home Guard/Council memeber. However, Red Imperator was the Home Guard chief in BotH. It's up to you, whether you want to put in a line or something about how Marina got control. She also, wasn't a council member durring BotH, but with the death of some durring the battle, sure some are going to advance.

Like I said, no problem, just there is some room for explanation, if you want.

“Why does she want to see you after you remove me from the military wing?”

“To ask my opinion on the matter, no doubt. She knows you and I are good friends.”

“Yes..” Périgord murmured. “She is a stunning woman. And not married? I saw no ring…”

“No, not married.”

“Hmmph. How do you think she would respond to being courted?”

“Negatively.”

“You doubt my prowess?” Godfrey managed to sound like a hurt 6 year old.

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, I will, as they say, give it a shot next time I visit Avalon.”

“Let me know how that works out for you.”

Ahahahhahahahhahahahhaahhahahahahahah!

Brilliant. Ahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahah.

Way better than the 'corset' joke in mine. I love it. I hope the Duchess likes it too. Not quite as defining as her other dialouge and scenes, yet so fucking funny. (sorry Marina )

I squawked and Captain Knife looked at me severely, “I know you count Périgord as a friend Lonestar, and I like him too, but I question the sanity of anyone who claims to be descended from Jesus and that of those who follow him. It’s a family of lunatics, and their court isn’t much better. Add in a enslaved nation and you got one basket case of a kingdom.”

Honestly, and I know its my fault for writting it as such, but I'm not so wordy. I'd have just cuffed you, then glared. Tis my way.

I love it. I like the 'options' that the southwest harbor and all the 'toys' we are secretly developing mean. I always saw us as a 'tech advantage' over a 'numeral advantage' thing. Twas a central theme, I think of the original.

Looking forward to the next installment. Which, I assume won't be long, being as you're on deployment and have very little else to do besides please us fellows stateside. [/quote]

[Lonestar]

I have no problem with Marina being the head Home Guard/Council memeber. However, Red Imperator was the Home Guard chief in BotH. It's up to you, whether you want to put in a line or something about how Marina got control. She also, wasn't a council member durring BotH, but with the death of some durring the battle, sure some are going to advance.

RI is our ambassador in Antioch. Also, the Hawks got swept into power after the Battle of the Hymn.

Honestly, and I know its my fault for writting it as such, but I'm not so wordy. I'd have just cuffed you, then glared. Tis my way.

Yeah, well, you are wordy in continuity so that's the way it is, shippy.

I love it. I like the 'options' that the southwest harbor and all the 'toys' we are secretly developing mean. I always saw us as a 'tech advantage' over a 'numeral advantage' thing. Twas a central theme, I think of the original.

Looking forward to the next installment. Which, I assume won't be long, being as you're on deployment and have very little else to do besides please us fellows stateside.

I'm on deployment? Damn! I missed ship's movement!

[Knife]

Yeesh, AIM and a board. Post a reply on one and they zing you on the other.

[Mark S]

Rather than Congreves I'd suggest that you use Hale rockets instead. They suffer a slight range penalty but are only very slightly harder to make and are much more accurate. The key difference is 3 curved fins in the exhaust nozzle which impart a spin to the rocket.

Somebody's been watching their Mythbusters.

[Noble Ire]

I've been waiting eagerly for an update, and this did not disappoint.
I love Godfrey's character.

[darthdavid]

Rather than Congreves I'd suggest that you use Hale rockets instead. They suffer a slight range penalty but are only very slightly harder to make and are much more accurate. The key difference is 3 curved fins in the exhaust nozzle which impart a spin to the rocket.

Somebody's been watching their Mythbusters.

[Lonestar]

Yeesh, AIM and a board. Post a reply on one and they zing you on the other.

In all fairness, I TOLD you on AIM I was POSTING a response!

[Temjin]

Out of all the weekends to update the story, you have to do it on the one where I'm out of town?

I wasn't sure how I felt after the large time jump from chapter 2 to chapter 3, but after getting further into it, I think you handled it well. Good Chapter.