AN: Well, this story is getting more traction than I expected. Also, we got two favorites and seven follows now! Fuck yeah!
It was the next day, and I was already making my way to Amiya's room. Cleaning the armor was not as quick as I'd hoped, so I was only able to wear my greaves, cuisses, vambraces, and bicep plates. I even needed to replace the cuirass with a spare brigandine. Thankfully, my helm was wearable, though the lack of a gorget did concern me a bit.
In any case, Amiya's room came into view. I knocked on the door, waiting patiently for a response. A young girl's voice barely came through, "Come in!"
I did as was bid and opened the door, stepping into the room. A small gasp rang out, and I turned to it. There Amiya was, sitting on her bed, a book open on her lap. She marked the page she was on with a strip of paper, closed the book and set it aside, then hopped off her bed. "You came back!"
I walked to her, kneeling at her front. "Of course. I made a promise yesterday, didn't I?" She nodded, a relieved smile and shining eyes on her face. I stood and looked around. Seems that the chair was propped against the wall, so I might as well move it. "Amiya, do you want to continue from where we left off?" The girl got back on her bed and nodded, and I moved the chair back in place. "Great. Oh, this time we will have another listener. And don't worry, it's someone you know."
Her head tilted, ears low. "Is it the Dokutah?"
I chuckled. The girl really loves that man, doesn't she? Not surprising, as she's one of the few that can get past his mask of cold indifference. I'd hope he cherished her as much as she did, but that was a moot point. "No, but it's close."
Her face scrunched in confusion. "Is it Ther-"
Of course, the devil invoked just came into the room. "Buck, Amiya! I'm not too late, am I?"
The girl stood on her bed. "Theresa!"
The King responded by taking the girl into her arms, twirling her around. "Amiya!"
The scene was sickeningly sweet, but I also had to give a response. I simply stood at attention, hand in a salute over my right eye slit. "Your Majesty, you've come right on time."
Theresa paused, then set Amiya down, much to the girl's disappointment. She turned to me, crossed her arm, and frowned. "Buck, what did I say about addressing me in private?"
I shook my head and chuckled. "Lady Theresa. Will that work?"
She pouted at me, staying silent. "Miss Theresa?"
She turned away. Amiya turned concerned, eyes shifting between Theresa and myself. I just raised my hands in mock surrender. "I give. Will you be willing to listen to an old man babble on about his life story, Theresa?"
She smiled, picked up Amiya, and sat down on the bed with the girl on her lap. "I am absolutely ecstatic at the thought."
I chuckled, the took a seat on the chair. I fiddled with my dagger, a habit I've created over the years. "Alright. Now, onto the start of the Columbian Revolutionary War…"
…
It all started because the Victorians got wind of some Columbian Independence faction, known as the Scions of Freedom making weapons caches in the towns of Lawton and Harmony. In response, the Victorian Royal Army mobilized a regiment, 1,000 men in total, to occupy the towns, arrest the leaders of the Scions of Freedom, and to confiscate the weapons caches. Unfortunately for the Vicks, Columbians got wind of this plan of theirs, and many riders went off and warned the Scions of Freedom.
The Vicks came in force, their professional regulars marching four men abreast and their cavalry looming over the flanks of their infantry. They came into Lawton as you'd expect they would, aggressive and hostile to perceived revolutionaries. Doors were banged on, houses were searched, and people were manhandled in their own homes. The militia of Lawton? They were not amused.
The militia of Lawton mobilized, a paltry force of only sixty men. They stood at town square, blocking the regiment from passing further into the town, and ignored any and all orders from the Victorian Major in command of the operation. Then, it happened, the vaunted Shot Heard 'Round The World.
Somebody, it's still debated whether they were Columbian or Victorian to this day, shot one of the two parties, but fortunately missed, their bolt only striking the ground between the two forces. But that did not stop the reaction. The Victorian vanguard responded, shields forming at the front and kneeling, while marksmen formed behind them and aimed their crossbows. The Columbians were less organized, scrambling to get their crossbows ready or to get behind cover.
The militia stood no chance. Victorian bows and discipline broke the men, and only a score of men fled with their lives from the town, the other forty lying dead or wounded. The survivors fled to Harmony, where the militias were already preparing for an engagement with the cats.
That's not to say that the red-clad fools were glad with the outcome. Their commander was irate at this impulsive reaction, giving his men a verbal lashing for such lack of control over themselves. Even so, he had a mission to accomplish, and he forced the men to march again with a black mood.
Harmony was not idle at this time, and the militia was already finishing their preparations. They took all the contraband in the caches they could and moved them outside of the town. Meanwhile, the troops themselves would set up in two different locations; half on the hill north of the town, and half on the forest to the east of the town, where the Vicks would need to go through to enter Harmony. They set up as you'd expect, marksmen at the rear, attackers at the middle, and defenders at the front, with few field guns near the marksmen. Lawton invigorated the men, infuriated them. Few things will make a man wrathful enough to fight a god; attacking and debasing his home is one of them.
The sounds of marching filled the forest, and the men, despite their desire to do nothing other than crush the Felines, held their position as planned. It had been agreed upon that an ambush before the Vicks entered Harmony would be effective, but would not be a deterrent. A decisive victory was needed.
That day, the Victorians would march into Harmony and impose its will on the townspeople. The militiamen were wroth again, the sight of Victorians breaking and entering into their homes, dragging their family to and from, and burning their possessions fraying their patience. Trails of smoke billowed into the cold sky, harsh symbols of Victoria's desire for absolute authority over her subjects. The militias wanted blood, and the Vicks were chock full of it.
Some time went on, and two Victorian platoons moved to the northern part of the town, scouting for any rebels. What they found was a mob of men armed to the teeth, each and every one salivating at their approach. The 100 Felines formed quickly, certain that blows would come, but that did not cause the rebels to falter.
The militia charged, their number five times greater than the feline forces. Quickly, the Victorians were beset on all sides, their discipline only assisting them for so much before the situation was too great. Remember, while the Victorian Royal Army was known for their soldier's great discipline, the Columbian militias weathered a hostile area that was beset at all times with war, storms, and disease, all while poorly supplied by their far away benefactors. We were robust and worn people, even those of the cities, and the clash at Harmony showed that. The Victorian platoons broke, only a quarter of their men fleeing successfully, and the Columbians followed.
The Victorians were split, spread all over Harmony in search of the rebels that were expected to be hiding or fleeing. Instead, those rebels charged them in a large mob, the small squads and platoons of the Victorians no match for the enemy force the size of a bloated company. It didn't take long for their commander to order a retreat outside the town's walls and back into the forest. They took the bait.
890 Victorians made it out of Harmony's wooden walls, the rest either dead, captured, or lost in the conundrum. Some of the 500 militias from the town followed them.
The other 500 in the forest heard them.
With haste, the flanking force set themselves up along the forest surrounding the road, eager for any crimson cloaks marching by. The Victorians would find themselves ambushed, marksmen pelting their men from cover, cavalry and vanguards harassing and startling their ranks, and casters especially targeting the ranking officers whenever possible. Not to mention the 500 men nipping at their heels, any man that stumbled or fell eagerly set upon like carrion to ravens. That proud and mighty force of 1,000 was dwindling and shrinking, dust coated and exhausted from marching nearly 25 miles. Right, that isn't used here… I believe that would be about 40 kilometers? Indeed, a great distance for marching, especially when harassed.
The crimson cloaks retreated back to Botolph, where they would be besieged. While they were besieged, the Scions of Freedom would ride out to the other colonies, gaining audience with their leaders and swaying them to the cause. The colonies would sign an agreement, an alliance against a nation they saw had oppressed them, one they wished to leave.
The Ordinance of Secession was signed, and the Banner of the Dragon was raised. Columbia was at war, and her only choices were victory or death.
… Right, I haven't spoken of myself much in this session. Truth is, I was still on the fence. My desire to join the revolution against the Royals was great but my fear of losing my family caused my hesitance. It was not until the news of Lawton and Harmony that I made a choice, abandoning my old life for a purpose greater than myself. I left to join the burgeoning Colonial Army, a force that would end up under the leadership of famous general Mark Max. Familiar name, eh? Well, he had not been part of the cause at this time, so it fell under a veteran of the Native-Columbian Wars, a man by the name of Gregorius Wroughton.
A great man, one much overlooked after Max took over and won the war. General Wroughton was the one man that held the Army of the Cause together for so long, despite many defeats, diseases, and desertions that we would face at the first half of the war. You both remember how Columbia became a republic, correct? One that elects those who govern it? Well, unsurprisingly, Mark Max turned out to become the President of Columbia, and might end up governing over it his whole life, not too dissimilar to a constitutional Monarch. George on the other hand? The man served for eight years as Vice President, said his old bones had enough, and just got up and left. He was a prince in all but the title, and he just gave it up. That's why Vice Presidents often stop running for election after a second term, because George's act was so admirable that following in his footsteps is an easy way to garner respect.
Anyways, it was after the siege of Botolph started that I would join the Colonists. Many peers of mine also joined, though just as many were loyal to the Victorian Cause. Unfortunately, the people were split on the war, and that division brought about horrid results. In any case, the moment I joined was a fortuitous one, for I arrived merely a day before the first major battle of the war: The Battle of Mount Hill.
The battle happened because some patriots became emboldened by the lack of Victorian response during the Siege of Botolph, and rumors of a reinforcing Victorian army already moving to aid the city, leading to them forming a fortified position on Mount Hill with the hope of putting more pressure on the cats.
Yes, the hill has a bit of a silly name, doesn't it?
In any case, the Colonists would form up and hold the fortification, a position that, so I've been told, held glaring weak points telling of hasty construction. The Vicks would take the challenge, and marched a force of 3,000, the rumored reinforcements for Bololph, all eager to beat the supposed impetuous mob of 2,400 at Mount Hill.
And standing at the shoddy barriers, like any young fool would, was I, clad in recently-bought armor and wielding the poleaxe my Grandpa gifted me one year before. The armor was cheaply made, consisting of only an aventailed bascinet, a maille shirt, maille chausses, plate vambraces and greaves, and a pair of maille mittens.
Aye, it was my first taste of battle. It was… strange. But I didn't hate it.
AN: I'll be honest, this is shorter than I thought it was. I might end up posting another chapter earlier than expected, but I'll have to quickly edit it beforehand. Feel free to review, I'd love to hear your guys' thoughts on the story.
Also, in order to ensure you guys get a semi-accurate overview of the American Revolutionary War, I'm going through two (maybe three, eventually) dense books for this shit. If you want the sources I've read a bit from, here ya go:
The Glorious Cause, by Robert Middlekauff
The West Point History of the American Revolution
Check out the Glorious Cause for the overall history, and the West Point book is (obviously) more focused on the military aspect of the war. Either way, that's gonna be a quicker way to learn about the war, cause I doubt it'll be quick for me to cover it in this fic. Have fun, stay safe, and I'll see y'all soon.