Muskets and Carbines

Chapter 1: Storm in the Fall

Fort Polk, West of Franklin, Pennsylvania. September 19, 1860

The sky was a cloudy gray with the usual cool breeze normal to a Pennsylvanian fall. None of the leaves had fallen yet, but the trees were a pallet of red, orange, and green. Only a few more weeks till they would start dropping. The stone walls around Fort Polk were a cool gray compared to the colorful forests and hills that surrounded it. The branches of Sandy Creek flowing around the massive fort. Its courtyard was filled with men with dark blue uniforms and gray pants. Men of the 8th Pennsylvanian Dragoons each wore a blue cap with a red circle on top, their ranks visible in the same shade of red on their sleeves. Commands were yelled back and forth between the sergeants to the men formed in ranks as they practiced parade formation while dismounted. Each man had his carbine at his shoulder as the officers watched on.

"May I be the first to say congratulations on the promotion?"

Thomas Ryker was pulled out of his thoughts and looked at the grinning Captain Culver. While Ryker had dark brown hair and blue eyes, Culver had bright blond hair with emerald green eyes. He grunted softly and responded as he resumed his walk.

"Thanks, looks like I'm now caught up to you."

"Captain at 23 is a nice feat. Maybe it calls for some celebration."

Ryker chuckles softly as both captains walk across the courtyard.

"Oh? Not even been captain for five minutes and you're wanting us to go run off to town? I'd rather not get called into the Major's office for intoxication on duty, the day after getting my promotion."

"Hey, what are friends for?"

Both men smirked as they reached the barracks for their regiment. Ryker felt a strong breeze almost take his hat. He held it down and looked to approaching storm clouds in the distance.

Why do I feel like the other foot is about to drop and ruin this day?

+++

Centarii Hill, Southern plain of the Belwas Region. Seppa 19th 112 AP

Lord Jason Rolkin was starting to grow impatient. He sat atop his horse in full plate armor with the rest of the lords and barons as they watched Archmaester Emmon standing there before the Gate. The Archmaester was nearly 5 and 90 years old and everyone there knew it. Most were surprised that he could still move around in those robes with how frail and sickly the man seemed. The man called out chants as a purple glow shined on the huge marble gate. His large staff holding a glowing green orb.

I wonder if they called this expedition right during harvest because the old man might not make it another year.

Rolkin knew, like Duke Buran and the rest, that the Maesters had told the Emperor that they could open the mythic gate. Tales told of it once allowing the Red Faces long ago to invade and ravage the ancient lands that now make the southern portion of the Antaran Empire. The Emperor had called the banners to mount an expedition to the other side of the gate. Any lord or baron who participated would get claims on any new lands that they conquer. Duke Buran sat atop his horse to the side of the assembled lords. His armor was more decorated in silver, allowing the men to know who was in command.

Or so he could show off that he's related to the King of Morovia. None of us could afford a set of plate armor like that.

Rolkin shook his head, pushing away his political thoughts as he resumed watching the Archmaester.

Behind them were half of the expedition army. The fields and hills covered by thousands of tents and carriages. Nearly 30,000 levies to back up 9,000 men at arms. Hundreds of flags bearing the sigils of the different lords houses flew in the breeze. Most of the levies were armed with an assortment of spears, axes, shields, and bows. Some had helmets or light mail, while others only had their usual peasant clothes. Some even were walking around with pitchforks, proof that some lords really rushed to this without a care. The men at arms made up all of their cavalry. No expense was spared for these men. They were the lord personal guards or soldiers who were trained years to swing a blade or carry a lance. Behind Duke Buran stood the 20 or so Maesters that were to accompany them on this expedition. Rarely had there been this many magic-users attached to an army since the start of the Antaran Empire.