Byrd Man

The Fourth Horseman Came

Bumping this shit up

The Fourth Horseman Came - a Post-Apocalyptic NRP

I'm here and I'll tentatively like to do something with the Outer Banks area off the coast of NC/VA

Winter Came on Forever: An 18th Century Alt-History

Here's a map of Colonial SC.

usgwarchives.net/sc/maps/sc_1769.gif

The one notation to make is that Columbia doesn't exist yet. They made a note that Spartanburg wasn't around until later, but Columbia was created in 1786 for the express purpose of being the state capital.

Winter Came on Forever: An 18th Century Alt-History

Mount Pleasant, SC

"Good afternoon, madam," Sir Thomas Bennett said with a gracious bow.

He and Ames stood in the doorway of Mrs. Abigail Cross' boarding house. The little old lady with the dour expression before them had to be Mrs Cross. Her wrinkled face and toothless mouth gave her the appearance of one who had sucked on a lemon for far too long. A pair of spectacles stood on the bridge of her nose and threatened to fall off due to her stooped posture.

"There's no rooms for rent," she shouted. Before eyeing Ames and Bennett, making an assumption, and scowling. "Especially not to bloody sodomites."

"I have no interest in renting a room," Bennett said as politely as he could. "Nor do I have an interest in... the sodomic arts. I am here on an inquiry. My name is Sir Thomas Bennett and this is my associate, Sergeant William Ames and we are here at the request of His Majesty's government."

Ames held out a piece of paper written by Lord North's secretary that empowered them with the right to search whatever and whomever they saw fit in the course of their investigation. The letter was stamped with Lord North's personal seal, that of the Exchequer's office, and even the seal of His Majesty's Government. Mrs. Cross took it into her twisted hands and eyed it. Bennett had very little optimism that she could read beyond very basic words, but she would know the seals for sure.

"Colonel Stephen Butler," Bennett said as Ames gingerly plucked the paper from Mrs. Cross' hands. "We understand he recently boarded here."

"That he did, sir." The old lady's sour tone had turned deferential after seeing the letter. "He was a good man, kept to himself. Paid his rent."

"How long ago did he stop coming round?" Ames asked.

"It's been almost a month." The old lady still gave Ames a withering look despite their newfound entree. "It's been known to happen, sirs. Renters come and go. He was paid up and I had too many paying people in need of a place to stay."

"So his room has been rented out?" Asked Bennett.

"For a a week now. I held it as long as I could."

"Did he leave anything behind?"

"A whole box of belongings."

Bennett flashed his best pleasing smile. The same smile had worked on judges, clients, and nobility alike.

"Madam, I have a proposition for you."

---

Back at his law office, Bennett sat behind his desk as Ames upturned the box and spilled its contents onto the desk' surface. Clothing, scraps of paper, and other various items.

"I think we may have gotten cheated out of two pounds, Sergeant," Bennett said as he looked at the assortment of items on his desk.

"Better than the four pounds the lady was requesting," Ames said with a chuckle. "What an old crone."

Bennett grunted in agreement as he and Ames started to sift through the items. He found a waistcoat with a few odd stains on it that he set aside. There was a pocketwatch as well. Bennett stared at it for a long moment. This was a rare item indeed. He'd seen advertisements with rewards up to ten and twenty pounds for the recovery of lost and stolen watches. He weighed it carefully in his hands before flipping it open. The glass inside was cracked and the watch was not running. He wound it up but found it still did not work. His eyes then moved to the etched inscription. To Stephen: Come Home Victorious, or Not At All.

"What do you make of this," Bennett asked Ames as he handed him the watch.

"A lovely sentiment," Ames said wryly. "With that type of affection, it could only be a gift from a parent."

"And judging by the state of it, the dear colonel cherishes the gift," Bennett said with a touch of sarcasm.

"Look at this," Ames said as he passed Bennett a slip of paper.

It was more a scrap, torn off a larger sheet with something hastily written on it.

Cpt. B. Roundtree -- 60 Pounds
Augusta

"Augusta," Bennett said softly. "Where is that?"

"Across the river in Georgia," said Ames. "Not exactly the wilderness, but a far cry from Charlestown."

Bennett nodded. Sixty pounds was a substantial sum of money, just a shade under the sixty-two pounds Bennett paid Ames per annum. If this B. Roundtree owed Colonel Butler sixty pounds -- or even better f Colonel Butler was indebted to this man for sixty pounds -- then he was a man they needed to talk to.

"Sergeant," Bennett said as he placed the paper back on the desk. "Have the boy downstairs fetch my riding boots and coat. I don't look forward to the ride to Augusta in this kind of weather."

Winter Came on Forever: An 18th Century Alt-History

The Ohio Country

George Washington thundered across the snow covered field on his horse while the other six riders traveled in his wake. Snow flurries fell all around them as they raced towards the fire. The blaze and the accompanying smoke could be seen from miles away. Washington and his scouting party had spotted the smoke after an hour's ride east of the fort. Another hour on the road led them to the fire.

Washington was the first to dismount. He slung his long, powerful legs off his horse before it had fully stopped. He had his saber out as he approached the source of the fire: a wooden wagon consumed with flame. Scattered around the wagon were crates, barrels, and two bodies face down in the snow.

"Sir," one of the non-commissioned officers called to him. "There may be ambushers in the woods."

The colonel sheathed his sword and pulled his flintlock pistol from his belt.

"Spread out," he said with an eye towards the fire. "The wagon is too far gone to save. Whoever did this can't be too far past. Look for trails in the snow."

His men complied the orders while Washington approached one of the bodies. It was a man, face down in the snow with blood covering the back of his head. Washington knelt and flipped the body over. Hobby Jones, the Welshman who made the two hundred mile trip to gather supplies from Fort Ohio. Jones' eyes were rolled into the back of his head and the top of his forehead had a deep knife wound on it. It looked as if someone had tried to scalp him and then gave up on the act before fleeing.

The second body was that of Jones' sixteen year old boy Hubert. Hubert, like his father, had been beaten in the back of the head by some hard object and was poorly scalped, Hubert's scalping being a successful but sloppy one that left a few patches of scalp upon his skin. Washington stood and grimaced at the sight.

"We found tracks," Lieutenant Reynolds announced. "They look to be horse tracks, leading northwest away from here off the beaten path. Too narrow to be Jones' wagon."

The young lieutenant made a face at the bloody mess that had been Hubert Jones. Washington remembered that the man was the third son of some English aristocrat, born and raised in England before the cold came and forced him out to the wilderness. This was probably his first taste of the violence that the rough country had to offer.

"Lieutenant," Washington said sternly, just enough to snap Reynolds out from his stupor. "You and Corporal Smith stay here, salvage whatever supplies have not been destroyed and make them ready to transport back to Fort Fredrick. I will lead the men forward to follow the tracks."

"Sir... what if it's a savage hunting party?"

Washington stared at Reynolds before turning to look at the carnage around the wagon.

"It's not," was all Washington replied with. "I know it to be true."

With a sharp whistle, he called together the rest of the party and mounted his horse.

"The Lieutenant and Corporal will stay behind. The rest of you, follow my lead and make your arms ready. I expect us to engage enemies very shortly."

Without another word, Washington spurred his horse forward and followed the tracks of the attackers.

Winter Came on Forever: An 18th Century Alt-History

The struggle is real.

Winter Came on Forever: An 18th Century Alt-History

Ohio Country

The overcast sky had given way to flurries of snow. Although it was just after three in the afternoon gray clouds hung heavy in the sky, obscuring the sun behind them and making the chilly afternoon dip even lower. The clouds were snow clouds. The flurries would intensify in short order and leave the entire area blanketed in snow.

"We should head back to town before the snow gets too bad, sir."

George Washington looked away from the sky and down at his aide. Lieutenant Reynolds looked up at him a hint of a smile on his face and an expectant look in his eyes. Behind the two officers were the two senior non-commissioned officers in the regiment, Sergeants McCall and Ferguson, on horseback and Washington's slave Henry on foot.

"Let's go," Washington said tightly.

He lead the party the two miles back to Fort Fredrick amidst the continuous snowfall. Halfway there Washington ordered Sergeant McCall to let Henry ride on the back of his horse to quicken their pace. The sergeant made a sour face at the thought of having a slave up so close to him, but he would not disobey orders and let Henry hang on to the rump of his horse for the rest of the way back to the fort.

Fort Fredrick was little more than four wooden walls, but it was a far cry from the building Washington had arrived to find four months earlier. Despite the short autumn season already giving way to an early winter, Washington and his men were able to build proper shelter before the first serious snowfall arrived in November. The soldiers had even managed to help the small settlement next to the fort improve upon their own homes and buildings before the winter.

Washington went back to his quarters with Reynolds and Henry in his wake. The slave went about setting the fire in the cabin while Reynolds spread out a map and accompanying documents on a table. Reynolds jotted notes on a piece of paper as Washington donned a pair of spectacles and looked down at the map.

"You sketched this with your own hand, sir?" Reynolds asked with a glance up at the older man. "I am impressed, sir."

"I have some experience with surveying, lieutenant," was all Washington would say.

Reynolds squinted at the map before measuring distances and points on the map. While Reynolds tried to calculate distance, Washington already knew the figure he would come up with.

"I would say forty miles, lieutenant," Washington said before Reynolds could. "The settlement can't be much further than that."

"Forty-two miles, by my calculations."

Washington grunted and looked up as Henry stoked the fire to roaring.

"That'll be all, Henry" Washington said to his slave. "You can retire to your room until I need you."

"Yes, sir," Henry said with a sweeping bow before departing to his own little room off to the side of Washington's.

"Same for you, Lieutenant."

"Sir? Reynolds asked. "You do not wish for me to write the survey report?"

"I am capable," said Washington. "With the weather, I need some activity to occupy my mind. It will do me good. If you need a task, then head into the settlement and see if their supply wagon ever came in. Report back if it has still not arrived. That'll be all."

Reynolds gave Washington a salute before leaving the room. He was alone with just his thoughts and the crackling of the logs in the fire. He sighed and walked towards the window. The snow they had raced to beat was now coming down steady and blanketing the area. It was going to be a long winter, maybe even longer than last year's winter if that were possible.

Just the thought of last year made Washington's melancholy worse. Last year was perhaps the darkest year of his life. All he had fought for as a young man, all his striving to better his place in the world and make himself a true gentleman, had been snatched away from him by the cruel winter. The commission to the British Army he had longed for twenty years ago had come his way, but at a terrible price. He was now a professional soldier by trade, his salary going directly to Martha and his stepchildren to help them in the new house. The land they had purchased in North Carolina was a far cry from Mount Vernon but compared to some of the other Virginia planters the Washingtons had landed on their feet.

Washington turned to his work. The past week had been spent mapping out the area between Fort Fredrick and the Iroquois village. His superiors wanted a detailed map in order to plan a settlement. The ragtag community next to the fort -- dubbed George Town by the residents -- was temporary at best, a site to live on until the Ohio Company and British Army could clear out the space for a proper settlement. The job was part of his bad humor as well. Word had it that in the south, a great expedition was being mounted to drive Cherokee further west. While the men in the south would see plenty of action, Washington was stuck here just sitting and waiting and potentially acting as a diplomat with the Iroquois.

"Enter," Washington said when he heard a knock at the door.

Reynolds entered with snow covering his hat and the shoulders of his coat. He took off his hat and held it to his breast.

"Sir, I talked to Proctor in the village. He says that the supply wagon they've been waiting on has yet to arrive. It's now three days overdue."

Washington looked away from Reynolds and out at the snowfall. Supplies were already running low among the soldiers, so there was no question the village was running out as well. Sickness was also beginning to filter through the barracks and into the town and medicine was supposed to be on the way. That wagon was desperately needed as the heart of winter approached.

"Reynolds," Washington finally said. "Pick the six best men in the regiment and have them mount up. We're going to ride out and see if we can find this missing wagon."

Winter Came on Forever: An 18th Century Alt-History

South Carolina

The young rider clung tightly to his horse as it galloped down the muddy road. The bay strode confidently across the rutted mess of road towards the small village while the boy did his best to hang on. He was a new dispatch rider, used to running messages across Charlestown on foot. This was his first time out of the city as a messenger, and only his third time ever on horseback in his young life. Around the bend, the village of Goose Creek came into view. It wasn't much, just a dozen buildings around a white church. But that would soon change, as all around the outskirts of the village new buildings were in the process of being raised. The need for housing had been dire one ever since the long winter had come on, and now it seemed it was finally starting to take shape.

The horse snorted and spun to the left as the boy yanked on the reigns and prayed that the beast would come to a stop. Once it did, he found the lone two story building in the village and dismounted. He clung tightly to his messenger bag and raced to the building. He flung open the door and startled the clerk inside. Though not much older than the messenger boy, the clerk might as well have been an adult by comparison. He wore a dark blue coat with a white cravat and white shirt with brown breeches while his brown hair was long and tied back behind his head.

"I have a message for Sir Thomas Bennett," the young messenger said. "It is most urgent, sir!"

"Hand it over," the clerk said with irritation in his voice.

Upstairs, the clerk knocked softly on a door and waited to hear his master's voice.

"Enter."

Inside his office, Sir Thomas Bennett peered over a pair of spectacles with an inquisitive look and one bushy eyebrow raised. On the desk before him was a piece of paper with notes jotted down while beside the paper rested a law book. A fire crackled in the corner of the office and gave the small room warmth.

"There's a messenger downstairs, sir, just arrived."

The clerk passed a sealed envelope to Bennett. His pulse quickened at the symbol on the wax seal. Bennett was still in the process of learning about the newly arrived English nobility, but there could be no doubt that the personal seal on the envelope belonged to Lord North. Bennett quickly read the note, a grin forming on his face as he reread it.

"Johnny," he said with a look up at his clerk. Even from behind his spectacles his green eyes danced. "Go fetch Mr. Ames. We're needed in Charlestown."

---

Sergeant William Ames was a short, barrel of a man with black hair that was beginning to show signs of recession, even has Ames did his best to hide it by growing it out. Bennett and Ames found themselves in the courthouse that now served as the British seat of government. They sat on a bench on the second floor. The place was quiet as a tomb with business halted to celebrate the new year.

"The misses didn't think too kindly to this," Ames grunted. "She wanted to attend the new year's day service at the church in town."

Bennett said nothing. He had no wife or children, there had been no time for them in his rise in Virginia social circles. He had finally gotten to a place where he could have hoped to marry someone promising, but the cold came and that Virginia gentry had imploded upon itself. And now he was here, starting back over again. That was why he had decided to work on new year's day, why he had made young Johnny work as well. There was a ball he was due to attend later that night, but until then all Bennett could really do was sit around and bemoan what was and what wasn't.

"Sirs," a voice said from an opening door.

A middle-aged man with a ruddy face came out the door with a swift bow towards Bennett and Ames as the two men stood.

"I am Robert McTavish," he said with a Scottish burr. "Lord North's secretary. He has requested Mr. Bennett's presence. I am afraid, Mr. Ames--"

"Quite all right," Ames said quickly enough. "I know how the game is played, sir. I am not quite of Sir Thomas' class."

McTavish nodded his thanks and led Bennett through the door. Bennett glanced behind and saw Ames sitting back down on the bench with a bemused look on his face. Their partnership had not been a long one, but Bennett already knew that Ames was perhaps the most capable man he had ever come across, but he was still born of the low class and his impressive service in the Seven Years' War had raised him up some, but not enough to warrant an audience with a lord.

"M'lord," Bennett said with a sweeping bow as he entered the office of Lord North.

"Sir Thomas," North said with a curt nod. "It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

The first thing that struck Bennett upon seeing Lord North was his resemblance to the king. There were rumors and conjecture, but it was amazing for Bennett to see first hand how much the Chancellor of the Exchequer looked so much like the sovereign. They could have been brothers. North stood from behind his desk and walked around to greet Bennett. He was a pudgy man with a hangdog look upon his face. His graying hair was helped by the white powder in it.

"Have a seat," North said with a motion towards two chairs by a fire.

"So," Bennett said once they were settled. "What can a country lawyer like me do for you, m'lord?"

North smirked and laced his fat fingers together.

"The way I hear it, Sir Thomas, you are more than a simple country lawyer."

"Depends upon whom you ask," Bennett shrugged. "To my opponents, I am the devil himself."

"And to people whose opinions I highly value, you are well known as efficient and discreet."

Bennett had to repress a smile. Lord North had been talking to Bennett's former clients in Virginia. In the last decade Bennett had made something of a cottage industry by working for the Tidewater Gentry in Virginia. He'd catered, cajoled, and kissed more than enough ass among the colonial nobility to earn his knighthood and social standing. Not only could Bennett make problems go away quickly and quietly, he could also do it with enough subservience to make the debauched bastards feel like the royalty they claimed to be.

"So what can a man of my skill set do you help you, m'lord?"

North bit at his lower lip and looked at Bennett with watery eyes.

"Colonel Stephen Butler, are you familiar with the name?"

"Vaguely," Bennett said, leaning forward in his seat as North drew to the heart of the matter. "I think I have meet him since my move here. He was an officer in the British army?"

"Aye, he was a Dragoon in India during the Seven Years' War. Colonel Butler fought bravely in Calcutta and parlayed the war success to a seat in the Commons. He represents --represented-- Bosworth in the midlands. With the weather crisis, things like parliamentary representation have yet to be settled."

"What has Colonel Butler done, m'lord?" Bennett asked.

"Disappeared," North said bluntly. "For the past month, he has not attended meetings in the Commons chamber on the ground floor, and the landlady at his boarding house says she has not seen the Colonel even longer than that. His room was given to a new boarder and the old lady collected his items. She says that it seems he just left and never came back."

Bennett raised his eyebrow. Members of parliament were known to come and go, especially now with the Commons not in session and the extraordinary circumstances of the time. Why would Lord North care about where Colonel Butler was?

Except...

"The Duke of Grafton?" Bennett asked. "The rumors are true, then?"

North nodded. "By god, sir, you are a clever fellow. Yes, the Duke of Grafton is griped with... something. Call it madness or hysteria or even intense melancholy. Whatever ails him, he is in no shape to serve as prime minister. As soon as parliament reconvenes, there will be a no confidence vote against him. As head of the Exchequer I am the natural successor, but there are some who would disagree."

"And Colonel Butler is a Tory." Bennett stated. It was not meant to be a question. "A key vote in the election of the next Tory leader."

North spread his hands as if to say there you have it.

"If the colonel has fled the city, then he needs to be found and brought back in time for the next session in the Commons. If you can do this for me, Sir Thomas, then you will have the thanks of the nation and your government. For king and country, will you assist me?"

Bennett made sure that his smile was not as wide as he wanted it to be when he answered.

"Yes, of course. For king and country."

And, he thought to himself, to have the next prime minister of the United Kingdom in my debt.

Winter Came on Forever: An 18th Century Alt-History

You could actually get away with running as a democrat in the state house and senate here in my state districts. Both my rep and senator are democrats. But the congressional district is blood red.

Winter Came on Forever: An 18th Century Alt-History

Well, shit. I may not have time as I'll be running for congress.