It is a normal and humid day, July 21, 1861.
Deep in the wilderness in Northern Virginia, all is peaceful and quiet...
Or is it?...
Footsteps are heard along the lone dirt road that runs through the center. A rowdy, dark blue river marches its way down the road, headed toward the fight in a nearby town, and surely meaning to wash out its grey brother.
They wish to take the opposing Confederate army by surprise, but unbeknownst to all, the entire formation is being watched by a keen eye...
A Bald Eagle, perched on a nearby tree, flaps his mighty wings, and takes flight, heading Southward...cannonfire can be heard past the trees...
Colonel Mason watches as his men advance toward Manassas Junction, which lies 5 miles from their current position just past the Mason-Dixon Line. Mason rides surely but also cowardly as he rides behind his loyal regiment.
A young and bold lieutenant rides up to him as they proceed toward the junction.
-"Sir! Report from the scouts: the Federal Army has engaged the Rebels just outside Manassas Junction! The lines are holding, but the enemy is breaking through the defenses! We must arrive with due haste to provide relief and support!"
Mason gives him a blank look, and nods.
-"Very well."
The rather innocent-looking Colonel salutes the lieutenant, who rides to the front of the regiment to give the orders. As the young officer leaves, Mason reaches into his coat pocket, revealing a golden cross adorning his vest...
Two hours later, Mason's regiment arrives to reinforce the right of the Union line. Mason receives orders from General McDowell to prepare for a charge against the Confederate Army's left flank. Mason knows this is highly ambitious, and looks to his eager and fresh regiment. How quaint: the general wishes to squash this revolution with one single charge? These men couldn't even survive a volley of rocks!
A messenger rides up from behind the tree line, and hands Mason the orders.
-"Colonel Mason, sir! On the signal, take your men and assist the other regiments in the charge; Godspeed to you!"
He rides off, leaving a devilishly amused Frederick Mason to his thoughts as he looks across the field. By the time he arrived, the fight had already lasted several hours, and McDowell had been pressed into ordering a bold charge to break the spirits of the revolutionists. His comrade, Colonel William Tecumseh Sherman, had already broken their right flank earlier in the day, but the defectors refused to give up so easily. Whatever outcome befalls here, it does not matter. So long as the sacred treasure is found, the Order shall have its fill of this sharade...
The bugles sound, and all of a sudden the large mass of blue rushes out toward the opposing force...
(Meanwhile, on the Confederate lines)
The Confederate Battery line, now pressing to provide return fire to the Yankee artillery, acts as though it were one large, grey-geared machine, whose individual components work in harmony to achieve the whole's purpose. Amidst all this, large dirt plumes create craters in the fertile Southern soil, killing a few but still too insignificant to affect the high-spirited Southerners.
Two Confederate brigades stand against the Federal charge, and soon both sides find themselves clashed against each other like rampant waves against the steadfast rocks. After a short period of time, the two noble brigades of grey are pushed back, and the demoralized men retreat to the rest of the army.
The eagle watches this, soaring above the battlefield, and quickly dives to the right, toward a patch of radiant green trees, where he deems it best for him to go...
William looks up into the sky from his position amongst the Confederate line. His grey hood hides his cropped blonde hair and rather gaunt complexion. He nods, and slowly walks toward a fiery and zealous brigade of his fellow Confederates. He makes his way around the formation, and rejoins his fellow lieutenants. His heavy saber glistens as it sits restlessly in its scabbard, and his long grey frock coat is riddled with blades and other things, his crimson red waist sash flows with his coat as a blood trail, and the twin Colt Navy revolvers holstered across his chest, and two suspicious devices on his wrists, each concealing sharp blades for silent work.
Lieutenant William Cook soon stands in front of his assigned group of soldiers, who nod in respect of the mysterious hooded man. He looks off to his left, and sees a distressed senior officer informing the bold former Major from the Institute. Major Thomas Jackson looks out toward the advancing Yanks, and exclaims loud enough so that William could hear.
-"Then, Sir, we shall give them the bayonet!"
With that, he turns to the brigade, and shouts out the order to charge. William unsheathes his saber, and holds it to bear as he and his fellow lieutenants echo the order.
-"Fix...bayonets!...Ready...charge!"
In an instant, the brigade rushes out to rally the broken force and meet the enemy. He spots Jackson slowing to watch the course of the attack, and with that steadies one of his revolvers in his free hand as they close in on the Yankee invaders.
Closer...closer...
STRIKE!
The two opposing forces clash, and William leaps into the fray, cutting down one Union soldier, and with one shot from his Colt creates a red hole in the next man's head. He presses into more, dodging the bayonets as he slices and hacks his way through the thicket, popping off shots here and there until the cylinders of both revolvers click empty. He quickly draws a hand-forged Bowie knife, which was hidden underneath his coat, and quickly slices through, cutting down more soldiers. It's such an irony that these innocent men are so eager to fight and die for a cause they do not know, and would follow men who use them as mere puppets in their game to sieze all!
Major Jackson watches all this from his mount, and is impressed beyond belief at this young officer of his, the one who is literally slicing his way through the Yankee invaders! Jackson, so bewildered by William's skill, does not notice the buzzing of lead balls and bullets flying just past him, almost like a cloud of gnats. His heart burns with God-given courage just watching this, remaining still and peacefully as God Controls the battle with His Gracious Hand.
Nearby, Bee, the officer who had been shouting at him earlier, stands in admiration of the seemingly steadfast Major, who isn't even phased by the gunfire. He turns to his battered men, and points to Jackson.
-"Look, men! There stands Jackson like a stonewall! Rally behind the Virginian!"
As he says this, the exhausted officer is struck down, mortally wounded. His inspired men rush back out into the fray to support the brigade.
William and his men have punched through the Yankees, and he can scantly see the silhouette of a dark figure upon a black horse. Finally, he has reached his target.
Mason watches indifferently as his men get cut down and pushed back, none of it mattering to him so long as he doesn't get his hands dirty. Then he sees a hooded figure clad in grey rushing toward him. Dammit! It's the Assassin!
William lets out a Rebel yell as he leaps, his saber and Bowie stained in blood, mere inches away from cutting down the equally elusive villain. With a last-second motion, Mason spares himself at the cost of his steed. He rolls off and stands firm, staring down the Grey Assassin, who looks like an Angel of Judgment as he stands, his crimson blades at his sides as his darkened complexion stares ominously at the Colonel.
Mason laughs, drawing his own saber.
-"So, you've come to strike me down at last, noble Assassin?!"
William steps off of the horse's headless corpse, and points his death-soaked saber at Mason.
-"Indeed; you're day is come! Now, prepare to face judgment before The Almighty!"
With that, William lunges at Mason, and both engage in a heated clash. Despite his age, Mason is a skilled and excellent swordsman, and holds his ground well. William slips, and his Bowie is swiftly dispatched by Mason, who thrusts, causing William to parry. Ignoring the bloody battle around them, William and Mason press on until the victor is decided.
Then, Mason manages to sink his blade between William's fist and the knuckle guard of his saber, and slyly disarms him. An evil grin grows on his face as he holds his blade to William's shadowed face.
-"You are defeated, young one. Now face damnation!"
He thrusts forward, but William quickly dodges, and with a flick of his arms his hidden blades are exposed. Caught by surprise, Mason is too slow to react, and in a heartbeat feels a sharp pain in his stomach. He lets out a cry of pain, and drops to his knees. William uses his other blade to force Mason's chin up.
-"Any last words, Frederick?"
Mason lets out a bloodcurdling laugh, and spits in William's face.
-"Insolent boy! You may kill me, but you are hopeless to stop the Order from victory!"
William drops his hood, and stares into Mason's deep brown eyes with his own, icy grey eyes.
-"We shall soon find out. But you, however, will not."
With that, William quickly thrusts his other blade into Mason's throat, killing him instantly. He pulls his blades out, and watches Mason's body drop to the ground lifelessly. He kneels to pray, then inspects the Colonel's body. He discovers a small bag, and hides it within his coat.
-"Good. Four more to go."
William then notices the fleeing and demoralized Federal troops, who run in terror as they see the steel determination of their grey-clad brothers and see the death of their leader. A gruff, red-bearded sergeant runs up to William. The veteran Ulster-Scot smiles cheerfully.
-"Lieutenant! We've done it! We've pushed them back! Do we pursue?"
William retracts his hidden blades, and recovers his weapons. He then pulls down his hood to reveal his young face as he looks at McNeil.
-"No. Let them live. Besides, we must return to our lines and tend to our wounded."
McNeil nods, and shouts to the others. He directs them to return to Major Jackson, who stands there victoriously. His hand is bandaged from where a bullet shot through the palm in the midst of the battle. William walks up to him, his grey coat splattered with blood and dried gunpowder.
-"Sir! We've won!"
Jackson smiles.
-"Indeed you have, lieutenant; see to it that the boys are commended for their bravery. And I must say, Mr. Cook, the tide wouldn't have been turned without you. Your zeal is to be praised! Godspeed!"
William salutes, and follows the newly-named Stonewall Brigade back to the lines. They may have won this day, but this is only the beginning. Years of long and brutal war soon follow...
((( To Be Continued )))