Colonel Aries - Ace of Rams

[Cambrius]

Colonel Aries, Ace of Rams

 

September 20

Once More Into the Breach

 

The clacking of the train down the tracks beat a rhythm in time with the gently swaying cars. Rolling through an indigo morning heavy with clouds and the promise of rain, the train made its way toward the Breach, bringing its riders ever closer to Malifaux and their destiny.

 

Alone in one of the private seating booths reserved for the most privileged passengers and gazing out the broad window, was Colonel Jefferson Barlow Aries (retired). He was a tall man, even sitting; his immaculate gray vest and trousers were custom tailored to fit his long and barrel-chested frame, and of the finest quality. The colonel’s iron-colored hair was also finely cut, short and in a military style that contrasted the prodigious muttonchops and mustache that decorated his ruddy face.

 

There was a soft tapping at the door to the booth. It opened a crack and a stewardess poked her head just inside. The soft glow of the electric light illuminated her moon face.

 

“We’re about thirty minutes from the Breach, Colonel. Is there anything I can get for you before we transit?”

 

Colonel Aries turned to face the stewardess and her smile slipped just a little. The colonel’s left eye, pale blue and twinkling with mischief, winked at her. His right eye, an orb of black glass and set with a glinting, pale blue soulstone, stared unblinking.

 

“Thank you kindly, young miss, but no. I’m just fine with my coffee and grits,” he said, indicating the simple breakfast on the small table before him. A growling drawl pronounced his Confederate origin.

 

With just a slight nod, the stewardess retreated, closing the door behind her. Colonel Aries chuckled lowly at the clear discomfort he never tired of eliciting with his unusual false eye, and tucked into his buttered grits.

 

* * * * *

 

His breakfast settling comfortably in his belly, Colonel Aries sat back in his opulently upholstered chair. He considered lighting his pipe when a growing flush of warmth began at the back of his neck and spread, a wave of pins and needles following in its wake. Looking out the window, he saw the iconic bronze loop that defined the main portal between Earth and Malifaux come into view.

 

“My sweet Lady Fate,” he whispered.

 

The colonel’s heart beat faster in his chest and his breathing sharpened. Blue arcs of electric flame danced and writhed in the loop. It was a wonder to behold, as lovely as it was terrifying. The tracks inclined toward the Breach and the train rushed toward it as though beckoned. The pins and needles continued to race around the colonel’s body, climbing back up to his head as the swirling portal began to swallow the train whole. As the car he was in passed through the Breach, a euphoric rush caused the colonel to gasp…

 

…and bite back a bellow of agony as the pins and needles settled into a crushing grip around his false eye. His face crumpled and his throat fought to give voice to his pain, but he ruthlessly refused to allow it.

 

Colonel Aries felt as though his head would either combust or explode, and then just as quickly the pain was gone, leaving an odd feeling of achievement. It felt as though he had been somehow tested and come through victorious – a towering feeling of intense magnitude, but a brief one that also rapidly faded.

 

The colonel collapsed back in his chair, exhaling his held breath loudly. Despite the perceived violence of the transit, the train rattled sedately on and the delicate porcelain coffee cup and bowl remained on the table, precisely where they had been left. It left Colonel Aries wondering if it had happened at all or if he was finally going senile. He smiled wryly at the thought.

 

His breathing returned to normal. He straightened his posture, then his vest, and then returned his gaze out the window in time to see a high wall of tenebrous purple energy rush toward the train.

 

“What in the nine hells --” was all Colonel Aries had time to say. And then it struck.

Edited September 14, 2015 by Cambrius

[edonil]

An intriguing start...looking forward to more.

[Cambrius]

September 20

Welcome to Malifaux

 

The train hissed loudly, the venting steam adding to the morning fog as Colonel Aries stepped down from the luxury passenger car. He now wore a large Stetson decorated with the gold braiding of a cavalry officer and a double-breasted wool greatcoat, both in the same gray as the rest of his ensemble. Under his arm he held a polished hickory swagger stick, capped with steel at each end. Stout black boots with thick steel buckles rose to the colonel’s knees, hugging his calves tightly and blousing his trousers, and a shining silver spur jangled from each heel.

 

A porter came forward from the station, craning his neck up. At six and a half feet tall with a broad chest and shoulders, the colonel was positively heroic in scale. The porter gulped as he took the man in, his gaze stopping hard upon the colonel’s right eye. The round soulstone, pale blue and set into the black glass sphere, now glowed brightly, burning in its intensity. Colonel Aries pulled a gold watch from the greatcoat, examining it briefly before snapping it shut and returning it to his pocket.

 

“Right on time, my boy,” he greeted the porter.

 

“Colonel Aries, sir, it’s a great honor and pleasure to serve you,” the porter said bowing deeply. “I regret to have to inform you that while we were quite ready for your arrival, sir, the team of horses drawing your carriage has been badly spooked by… whatever that was, a short time ago.” The porter winced.

 

Colonel Aries nodded. He had lived most of his life in the saddle and knew horses well. That they were spooked by whatever the wave of purple energy was made perfect sense.

 

“Don’t you worry, none, my boy. Let’s spare the horses any further distress. Just load my baggage aboard and make your way to my apartments in the Enclave at a gentle pace. I am perfectly content to walk.”

 

The porter fairly goggled at the colonel. “Walk, sir?”

 

“Yes, walk. You’re not deaf, are you, boy? It’s a fine crisp morning and a brisk constitutional is just the thing after that ordeal on the train.” Before the porter could protest, Colonel Aries brought his swagger stick from under his arm, and marched off. “A gentle pace for those horses, mind,” he called over his shoulder as he entered the station, headed for the street.

 

* * * * *

 

The tall buildings cast long morning shadows and the avenue was mostly shaded. A tenacious carpet of fog still hugged the ground. Early as it was, there were few residents on the street. The handful of brave souls who were out of doors moved quickly and quietly. The loudest sound was of Colonel Aries’ boots, marching a steady pace, his spurs jangling.

 

The colonel paid little attention to where he was going. He was headed in the direction of the apartments he had arranged to lease in the Guild Enclave, and besides, he was quite preoccupied with what he would later come to know as The Event.

 

As the purple wave passed through the train, the colonel found himself suddenly lifted partly out of his chair, his back arched painfully, gasping for breath. His mouth opened in a silent scream as actinic blue light erupted from the soulstone of his right eye, flooding the compartment with azure radiance and his mind with molten pain. Colonel Aries was blinded by it, his world washed in blue-white light.

 

An eternity later, the energy subsided and the light faded. Colonel Aries slumped hard back into his chair. Sight returned to him as he caught his breath, the bright spots on his retina fading also. That was when he realized that his vision was no longer monocular.

 

For the first time in nearly four decades, Colonel Aries could see from both eyes! The vision in his right eye was just as sharp as in his left. No, better! He could see… more. He glanced around, trying to understand what that thought meant, but it slipped through his mind like a greased eel. He mentally chased it nonetheless, relentless in his pursuit, and nearly failed to notice when the train finally came to a stop at Malifaux Station.

 

Gathering himself, Colonel Aries donned his jacket and greatcoat with ritual care. He collected his swagger stick and Stetson from their hooks on the wall, opened the door, and left the compartment. As he approached the exit stairs, he caught sight of the moon faced stewardess waiting to bid him and the other passengers farewell.

 

He was immediately filled with a sense of apprehension. While the stewardess’ expression remained innocent and her manner without guile, Colonel Aries could perceive a… light? Aura? It framed her face. Reading it subconsciously, he became absolutely certain that this woman was an adulteress.

 

Now, how in the nine hells should I know that?

 

“Welcome to Malif…” The stewardess caught sight of the colonel’s eye and her words caught in her throat.

 

Distracted as he was, Colonel Aries merely smiled and grunted a reply – an unexpected departure from his usual gentlemanly speech – and exited the train.

 

A small voice broke the colonel’s reverie, dragging him back to the foggy street of his present. Peering down, he found that the voice belonged to a slender man, dirty and under-dressed, shivering in the morning cold before him.

 

“What’s that again? Stand aside, boy, you’re blocking my path.” Said the colonel, squinting. The man’s aura – the colonel couldn’t think of a better term for it – told him all he needed to know about the beggar. The man was a thief and a murderer. As a former military commander, Colonel Aries was acquainted with the type.

 

The slender man’s teeth chattered as he tried not to stare at the colonel’s eye. He rephrased his unheard question. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but could you spare a bit of scrip for some food? For my dog, sir?”

 

Colonel Aries glanced into the shadowed corner of the building behind the beggar and spied an adorable beagle puppy huddled there. The colonel held great affection for animals, and was immediately disgusted with the man before him. A cruel smile curled the colonel’s lips as he opened his coat and reached inside.

 

“I’m so sorry, son,” he said as he produced his large black leather purse, bulging with the outlines of soulstones and spilling over with a thick roll of Guilders. The beggar’s eyes popped nearly out of his head. “All I have are these fifty- and hundred-Guilder notes, and I can’t rightly fritter that kind of money away. I don’t suppose you have change for a fifty?”

 

The beggar’s mouth hung agape. Colonel Aries chuckled lowly as he returned his purse to his coat. “No, I didn’t think so. Listen here, boy, if you can’t feed yourself, then you shouldn’t rightly be keeping a dog. That’s just cruel, boy, inflicting your own negative fate on that poor defenseless creature.”

 

“What?” was all the man could say.

 

“Why don’t you just give that poor dog on over to me, son. I’ll give him a good home.”

 

“What?” the beggar sputtered, glancing back at the beagle puppy. “What? No!” The colonel didn’t require his new perception to see the man genuinely loved the dog.

 

The slender man snarled and pulled a wicked-looking knife from under his thin coat. “Just… gimme that purse, old man!”

 

Colonel Aries tired of the exchange. He reached back inside his coat. The man’s eyes grew wide with anticipation. And then fear as the colonel produced the biggest revolver he had ever seen, cocked it, and pointed it at his face.

 

“Wait --” was the last thing the man ever said.

 

The revolver fired with a thunderous boom and the top of the man’s head exploded in a spray of blood and brain and bone.

 

“I believe I said stand aside, boy.” Colonel Aries shouldered the still-standing corpse aside, tucking the smoking revolver back in his greatcoat as the body collapsed into the gutter. Pausing only long enough to scoop up the beagle puppy, the colonel continued his morning walk.

Edited September 14, 2015 by Cambrius

[Cambrius]

I have more brewing in my head, and will probably have it down by this time next week. In the meantime, I welcome and appreciate any feedback.

Colonel Aries may be a gentleman, but he is not a nice person.

[Sholto]

This is good stuff, very good stuff. Hitting all the right notes so far

[Cambrius]

This is what I imagine Colonel Aries' revolver to look like.

[Cambrius]

September 27

Tactical Maneuvers

 

The aircar taxi drifted quietly through the morning fog. The low hum of the cable and the gentle sway of the gondola were the only indications that the aircar moved at all. The taxi was paneled in rich, polished wood and trimmed in gleaming steel and brass. With large windows running along both sides, the gondola offered a panoramic view of Malifaux City. Or would have. The low clouds, tinted in a diffuse golden glow, obscured the view completely, much to the occupant’s disappointment.

 

Colonel Jefferson Barlow Aries (still retired) stared out at the blank canvas, mentally painting his own picture of the landscape below. Shadowy buildings, sheltering near reaching towers, framed by the inky streets and avenues winding like cobblestone threads, and all stretching away to either horizon.

 

“Dang it, Savannah, isn’t it just my luck? My first ride in one of these magnificent sky carriages, and Lady Fate sees fit to draw the curtains on my view.”

 

The beagle puppy roundly ignored Colonel Aries as she bounded up and down the center aisle, ears flapping, hopping up onto each seat to look out the windows briefly before continuing her unending circuit of the gondola. The colonel leaned down and scooped her up as she passed, holding the puppy in front of his face. Savannah licked the end of his nose and he chuckled as he kissed the dog on hers.

 

Colonel Aries and Savannah were alone in the gondola; the colonel preferred his privacy and dismissed the attendant, who gratefully withdrew to the service cabin at the rear of the gondola, shortly after boarding.

 

He turned the beagle to face out the window. “Just a soupy mess,” he grumbled.

 

Colonel Aries tried peering straight down. A small break in the fog revealed little more than an indistinct murky gray. Savannah squeaked a tiny bark and the colonel looked up just as the low clouds parted, revealing Dockmast One. The area above Guild Headquarters was clear and watery morning sunlight bathed the aircars already docked.

 

“Ah,” Colonel Aries sighed, smiling beneath his full mustache. “You’re absolutely right, girl. That there is more like it.”

 

Aerostat Termagant dominated the view of Dockmast One. She hung in the air with all the menacing grace of a battleship. The brass ribs of her eighty-foot rigid balloon gleamed and she bristled with guns and one-man gun pods. Her name was proudly stenciled in golden letters on the gondola. Colonel Aries let out a low whistle of admiration. Lower down, on a secondary berthing mast, was a smaller cargo aircar. Almost as large, it might have been impressive were it not docked next to the Termagant. The taxi angled down to dock further down, slowing as it approached the berth.

 

“That’s our cue, Savannah.” The colonel buttoned his greatcoat and donned his Stetson before consulting his gold pocket watch. “A few minutes early, but no matter. I’m certain the good captain won’t mind. Will he, girl?”

 

Savannah squeaked an answering bark

 

* * * * *

 

It hadn’t taken very long for the help to deliver and set up the furniture and belongings that Colonel Aries had brought with him through the Breach, and even less time for his cook, Jamish, to establish his sovereignty over the colonel’s kitchen. In the span of a day, Colonel Aries’ apartments on Hermitage Avenue in the Enclave were lavishly appointed with nearly all the comforts of his estate outside Atalanta, including the aromatic siren’s call of slow roasted meats and braised vegetables, and the irresistible tang of peach pie.

 

Colonel Aries’ appointment this morning had been arranged two nights previous, over a sumptuous meal to which the colonel had invited the current ranking commander of the Guild Guard. Captain Hamilton Pepper was a native of the Carolinas, back Earthside, and quite readily accepted the invitation to dine with a fellow former Confederate officer, particularly one as notorious and well-respected as Colonel Aries. The colonel, for his part, was the consummate Southern host – which meant, of course, that his table was as much a political device as a social one. To his credit, Pepper was a proper gentleman and made no mention of the colonel’s eye, but the poor captain never stood a chance. Jamish had prepared a feast fit for princes; with Pepper’s belly filled – with Brunswick stew, beer-battered fried chicken and pulled pork, Savannah Red Rice and braised okra, and hot-from-the-oven cornbread drooling with clover honey – Colonel Aries found him to be a most pliable guest.

 

The captain was broad and thickly muscled, if not quite as tall as his host. His closely-cropped sandy hair framed a pugilist’s face that matched his reputation for iron discipline, but belied his manners and grace.

 

Talk was initially of back home and then, inevitably, of the War. Regiments from the Carolinas and Georgia had fought together many times against the northern royalists and the two men learned that while they had never served together, their home units had. Colonel Aries had already retired from the Confederate Army by the time a young Lieutenant Pepper was commanding a garrison along the Mason-Dixon Wall, so the colonel spoke over deep-dish peach pie of the Good Old Days when he led the capture of royalist Parrott guns at Fort Pulaski and Pepper related stories from his time on the Wall.

 

“I tell you, son, I hated the whole idea of that damned wall,” said Colonel Aries, beginning his tactical maneuver. The men had left the table to be cleared and retired to the colonel’s parlor for fat cigars and glasses of fine, smoky bourbon. “Had Stonewall but pressed the advantage at the Second Bull Run, we could have rolled those royalists up and put a torch to New Amsterdam, payment in kind for razing fair Atalanta.”

 

The colonel took a long draw on his cigar. “Instead of a decisive and stirring victory, we have a stalemate and that Wall. The War’s gone cold, my boy. Now it’s all cat-and-mouse games with spies and Union raids that never happened.” Pepper nodded, all too familiar with the night attacks on the Wall and the denials from the northern throne that any such thing had occurred. It struck the captain as startlingly similar to the Guild’s ongoing conflict with the Miners and Steamfitters Union here in Malifaux.

 

“This de facto co-existence with the United Kingdom of America forgets entirely the reason the South rose up in the first place. A shame, is what it is, son. A damned shame and an affront to the whole of the South. That wall represents the compromise of our convictions.”

 

“I certainly agree with you there, sir,” said Pepper. “Even as I took my first command on the Wall, it seemed to me that our men had little fighting initiative left. Now, I grew up in Charleston hearing reports of the glorious campaigns being waged by fiery Confederate generals and commanders such as yourself, Colonel. You were an inspiration to many, myself and my brothers included.”

 

“You’re too kind, son,” Colonel Aries demurred slyly.

 

“We couldn’t wait, the three of us, to accept our commissions," Pepper continued. “Daniel joined the Navy, and then Jossua right after him, with the Confederate Marines. A year later, I volunteered for the Army full of patriotic fervor. But I must confess that I was greatly disheartened by our complacency. The Union wanted sovereign rule over America from a northern throne and the South wanted to liberate all Americans from the repressions inherent in a monarchy. Neither side got what it wanted, but I suppose even with the Mason-Dixon Wall, the continued independence of the Confederate States of America is something of a victory.” Pepper shrugged.

 

“Puffery!” declared Colonel Aries, jabbing the air with his cigar. “Anything less than victory is defeat, son. But let me ask you, what brought you through the Breach?”

 

Captain Pepper sipped his bourbon, savoring the oaky liquor that so perfectly complimented the cigar. “My brothers have stayed on at their posts, but when my term of commission was up, I felt as though my efforts were ill-spent in a cold war. When the second Breach opened, Malifaux offered another frontier and a renewed feeling of relevance.” Pepper flashed a fierce grin. “And action.”

 

The colonel’s arcane perception told him everything else he needed to know about Guild Guard Captain Hamilton Pepper: the man was a killer’s iron fist in a gentleman’s suede glove, precisely the kind of man Colonel Aries could use. Pepper’s earnest respect for the colonel was an added benefit he hadn’t anticipated, but certainly appreciated.

 

“I do sorely miss the action,” confessed the colonel. He straightened up in his chair and leaned conspiratorially toward Pepper. “In your estimation, son, how do our fighting men and women on this side of the Breach fare?”

 

Captain Pepper frowned. “What do you mean, sir?”

 

“I mean that by all accounts, Malifaux is a dangerous place. Bad things happen, so it’s said, and all the time. Is the Guild Guard up to the task of defending and protecting the good people?”

 

“Well, sir, there’s always room for improvement, of course, but I believe so,” said Pepper. Then, believing it to be entirely his own idea, Captain Pepper asked, “Would you like a tour of the Headquarters, sir? See for yourself?”

 

“My boy,” replied Colonel Aries around a broad grin, “that is a positively capital idea. I humbly accept your gracious offer.”

 

* * * * *

 

Colonel Aries and Savannah emerged onto the concourse to find Captain Pepper already waiting for them, smartly accoutered in his Guild uniform. The puppy yipped a greeting and Pepper smiled.

 

“A good morning to you, Captain,” said the colonel, extending his hand.

 

Pepper gripped it firmly. “And a good morning to you, too, sir. Welcome to Guild Headquarters.”

 

“Thank you kindly, my boy. Shall we get started straight away? I confess, I’m looking forward to a thorough tour and getting an eyeful of our fighting men.” A female Guardsman passed by just then and Colonel Aries quirked an eyebrow. “And women.”

 

Pepper grinned. “Gave me pause too, when the Guild began recruiting ladies into the Guard. Until I saw they can be just as skilled with sword and pistol as any man. Sometimes more so.”

 

The colonel was reminded of his own wife, as spirited as any destrier. “Of that I have no doubt. No doubt at all.”

 

“Shall we, sir?” Pepper gestured forward.

 

“Of course, my boy. Lead on.”

Edited September 14, 2015 by Cambrius

[Thechosenone]

What i appreciate most from the last piece is that it gives me a glimpse of the Earthside that Wyrd hasn't shown us yet. I like that.

What i wish i could see would be mention of the war through the memories of Aries. I'd like for him to remember a few war machines, or magicks employed or dastardly foes that might serve the crown. Now i know how you see the history of Earthside but lets see how you envision its wars?

[edonil]

So, my first comment is a bit of a minor one- the font size you're using is very bizarre on the forum. It's nothing too important, just makes it a little hard to read at times, because the size is fairly large. Just my opinion, and effects nothing of the work itself.

Now, beyond that, I'm loving it. I find Aries to be a very interesting character, and your take on a post-Breach American Civil War is one that's pretty neat. I'm eager to learn more about how you're tying the Confederate military into the Guild Guard. It'll be interesting to see whether Aries is an anti-hero, or a well hidden villain, honestly.

[Cambrius]

I thank you guys for your feedback! I have another little bit to tag onto the end of the last post, and then another small piece I wrote this week. It does offer a bit more insight into Aries' character.

I love these ideas, and I appreciate that they give me more thoughts on where to take the story. Now that we know who he is and what he's about, I can explore more of his background and bring it to light.

My take on the American Civil War is based in an Alt Earth forum RP I was preparing a couple of years ago, which was inspired by something I read about George Washington once being offered a crown for America. The idea seems ludicrous now, but when you think about how governments were run at the time and how the Continental Congress was just sorta winging it, it makes a kind of sense. In the history I'm proposing here, he accepted that crown.

While I'm writing this, part of me says to stick to canon and not tread too boldly. Probably my polite Canadian side not wishing to impose. The other part says to go ahead and leave big muddy footprints in the virgin concrete, it's fan fiction after all. The compromise is a bit of both. I adhere to what's already written and established while tracing a faint outline on the blank parts of the map.

Oh, and I will edit the posts and tone down the font size.

[Cambrius]

October 1

A Dance with the Governor General

 

“I must say, Governor, it was a surprise and a delight to receive an invitation to meet you,” said Colonel Jefferson Barlow Aries (as yet still retired). “And if I may, sir, an honor and pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

 

“Why, thank you, Colonel, but I wasn’t about to allow someone of your renown to slip into my city without extending my personal welcome.”

 

The two men were seated in a parlor in the Governor General’s mansion, with fine porcelain cups of steaming coffee. There were many such rooms in which the Governor General entertained guests and granted audience, each one different and furnished to project a particular image the Governor General wished to impress upon his guests. This room was stately and richly appointed, the furnishings meticulously placed and arranged, evincing an atmosphere of wealth, grace, and, above all, control. Even someone as physically imposing as the colonel could not but be diminished in a room such as the one in which the two men met.

 

It had taken Colonel Aries all of a moment to recognize this upon his arrival, and only a few seconds more for his arcane eye to gain a measure of the Governor General. What the colonel saw was nothing short of terrifying, with dire implications for all of Malifaux. A lesser man, or perhaps with one with a will less iron than the colonel’s, might have gibbered with fear. Perversely, Colonel Aries found himself thrilled with the prospect of being on the edge of history again. Throughout the Civil War, the colonel had led his men from the front, where the fighting was thickest. Many believed him to have tremendous valor and courage, gaining Colonel Aries a reputation for ferocious gallantry and steely leadership – a reputation the colonel did nothing to discourage, of course. The reality, however, was that Colonel Aries was simply a bloodthirsty man who delighted in living on the thin black boundary between life and death. He was very skilled at dancing all over that boundary with a barbarian glee and coming out relatively unscathed. He was also very good at guiding his men in that same dance. So rather than fear, the colonel felt greatly encouraged. Sweet Lady Fate had steered him true once more.

 

“That’s very kind of you to say so, Governor. Given the circumstances under which I entered your city, and by that I mean the aetheric tidal wave people are calling The Event, I think Hannibal’s army of war elephants could have slipped in unnoticed.” The colonel sipped his coffee.

 

“Very little if anything escapes my notice, Colonel,” said the Governor General. To illustrate the point, he asked, ”How was your extended tour of the Guild Headquarters?”

 

No nonsense and direct, with little use for flattery. Excellent, thought Colonel Aries.

 

“I found it most illuminating. Your man Pepper was a gracious guide and very informative. But if you’ll forgive me, I found the Guard to be wanting.”

 

The Governor General put his coffee down on the table. “I beg your pardon?”

 

“Well, I mean no disrespect, of course, Governor. I’m a plain-speaking sort of man. I’m willing to wager good Guild scrip to a wooden nickel that you have plenty of folks willing to polish your apple, sir. For my part, I will always do you the courtesy of presenting unvarnished truth. As Governor General, you need solid information, not apples.”

 

The Governor General smiled thinly. “I can assure you, Colonel, that I receive a great deal of solid information.”

 

Colonel Aries glanced into the shadowed recesses in the far corner of the parlor for just a moment. “I have absolutely no doubt you do. But given your reaction a moment ago, I can only conclude that my assessment is something of a revelation, sir. If I may continue?”

 

The Governor General gave the colonel an appraising look. Then with a slight nod, as though arriving at some internal decision, he said, “All right, Colonel. I’ll hear you out. Tell me, then, in your professional opinion, what are the deficiencies in my Guard?”

 

Colonel Aries cleared his throat. “To put it plainly, Governor, your men – and, uh, women – are scarecrows. Only the crows aren’t scared. Even worse, there is a vein of cowardice and disloyalty running through the barracks, as demonstrated by the desertions. Probably some defections, too. Fortunately none of this is readily apparent to the hoi paloi, which I suspect is due to the fact that whoever is running the show for you at Headquarters is a genius of politics. It is also apparent that however sharp this individual’s mind is, it is not a military one.

 

“As fearsome as the captains are – and they are that, sir – it is insufficient to keep the troops from running. They’re more afraid of what’s out there than they are of their officers. And that Governor, is where I propose to step in.”

 

The Governor General picked up his coffee and took a long sip. “You seem to have a great deal of your own information, Colonel.”

 

“I have a way with people, if you will, sir. And I, uh, see a great deal,” Colonel Aries said, glancing again to the darkened corner.

 

“Indeed. Perhaps too much? I counted at least eight things in your words just now, for any one of which I would have a person expunged. Fortunately for you, Colonel Aries, your words ring true and, at least for the moment, I am interested to hear what you propose.”

 

The colonel’s heart picked up its pace. Here was the black boundary. Time to dance.

Edited September 14, 2015 by Cambrius

[Thechosenone]

Wonderful as always sir. I do wish for more exposition on the Governor himself. After this piece i feel i really don't know much about him. His appearance and mannerisms, despite being worrisome to Aries, are not illustrated to me.

Otherwise very good. And i do want to know whats in the corner.

[edonil]

And that anti-hero/villain debate in my head is still raging...it's a fun one, one of my favorite characters of all time flirted with that line the entire trilogy. (Gerald Tarrant in case anyone cares) I'm quite enjoying the story still, looking forward to you continuing it. And the smaller font was definitely easier to read.

[Cambrius]

Thanks again, guys! To be honest, I haven't decided if Colonel Aries is an anti-hero or villian. Probably both. I have no solid plans to intentionally develop him in one direction or another. He'll just sort of develop on paper.

The Governor General is one of those difficult characters to include, given how pivotal he is to the canon. What Colonel Aries "sees" about the Governor is an allusion to those same mysteries we already have a taste of from the three rulebooks. I don't exactly know what the colonel sees, no one does for sure until Mr. Bowen tells us. I suppose I can make my own guesses and assert them in the story. I might.

And I plan to reveal what's in the corner soonish.

Edited October 14, 2011 by Cambrius

[Cambrius]

[Chucklemonkey]

Really enjoying this story so far. You have a nice line of gentle humour running through things.

I also like the character, a lot.

My only slight criticism, and it probably says more about me than the quality of the writing was I felt the shooting of the beggar was slightly out of character from the way he was presented prior to that point.

Already looking forward to more.

[Cambrius]

Thanks, man!

Shooting the beggar is the first peek at Colonel Aries' dark side. There will be more.

[Cambrius]

October 13, 1890

Chatham County, Georgia

 

It was to be only a brief respite from the march. Just long enough for the squires to lend their healing talents to the horses and get some dried meat and coffee into the men. A half-hearted drizzle of rain fell, underlining the feeling of exhaustion. Sheltering under a gnarly old apple tree along the side of the road was Lieutenant Colonel Jefferson Barlow Aries (commander, Georgia 3rd Cavalry Regiment, State Guard).

 

In the colonel’s mouth was his new long-stemmed ivory pipe, in his lap was an old leatherbound tome of age-yellowed pages. Most of the pages were still bound, at least. Many were dog-eared and loose within the cover. A flourishing script written in a bold hand covered the pages, even wrapping around the occasional sketch of some construct or another. The tome was half diary and half engineering manual and was written over a century ago by a man long dead.

 

Colonel Aries barely heard the approaching footsteps, so engrossed was he in the book. “You still got your nose pressed into that dusty journal, pa?”

 

A young man of the same heroic build and height as the colonel sat next to him under the tree and handed him a steaming tin cup of coffee. Colonel Aries took the proffered cup only after he had carefully closed the book and tucked it into his greatcoat. Ignoring his son’s question, the colonel asked, “I ever tell you about your great-great- uh, great-granddaddy, boy?”

 

“I ever tell you about the time you called ma ‘boy’?” grinned the younger Aries.

 

“Be serious for a moment, Nate.” The colonel tapped his pipe out onto the damp grass. “Speaking of which, how’s it coming with those squires?”

 

Captain Aries glanced back at his men and their mounts. “My company was quickly done. They’re focusing on one unit at a time, so I figure they should be finished up in no more than thirty minutes.”

 

“And our soulstone reserve?”

 

“With all due respect, pa, shouldn’t you be having this conversation with Major Chambers?”

 

The colonel harrumphed through his thick mustache and spared but a glance in the direction of the regiment’s executive officer. The man was thick-bellied, thin-limbed, and short and made up for it with a bullying demeanor typical of small men. “Probably. But I’m guessing you can answer my question immediately without having to take extra time to find out and then blame some poor boy for your own lack of awareness.”

 

In a lower voice he grumbled, “Might be time for that old boy to lead from the front.”

 

The younger Aries opened his mouth to respond, thought better of his initial words, and said instead, “Getting low, but likely enough to get our steam carriages along and the battlecasters through a fair engagement with an enemy of our number or less. That includes a reserve for the healers. I think we’ll be in good shape to reinforce Fort Pulaski.”

 

“About what I figured, thank you, son,” Colonel Aries nodded and pulled the tome back out from his coat. “Now sit here and pay attention.”

 

The colonel took a sip from his tin cup before setting it far to one side. Nate sat on a root next to his father, warming his hands around his own cup. Leaning in to look at the weathered book, Nate said, “I remember you saying something once about him being an arcane practitioner of some kind.”

 

Colonel Aries turned to face his son. The two men had the same pale blue eyes. “Yes, well. You were just knee high to a June bug with a bottomless sack of questions and I rarely had the luxury of time at home to answer them all.”

 

“You were in the field, leading your men, pa. Ma and I understood well enough.” There came then an awkward pause that served to illustrate that intellectual understanding was an altogether different creature from the effects of a frequently absent father on a young boy. The customary wall of overarching propriety settled between them, relieving them both from having to confront the issue.

 

“Yes, well. Listen here, now, son. Your great-great-great-granddaddy was Samwell Barlow Aries, founder of Aries Combat Engineering and a pioneer in construct mechnology. That much you know. But old Samwell was also the High Chancellor of the Masonic Synod near the end of the last century.”

 

Nate’s gaze lowered for a moment as he absorbed the information, then widened as he understood the implication. “He was one of…? Dang.”

 

Colonel Aries nodded. “He was one of those august practitioners who opened the original Breach nearly a hundred years ago, my boy. Survived it, too. Unfortunately, he had set up shop in that Malifaux place and was lost when the Breach closed. This here is his journal, which he left with his son Nathaniel Samwell Aries on this side of the portal. It’s been passed down from father to eldest son for the last five generations. You will be the sixth Aries man to have it.” With only the slightest hesitation, the colonel handed the book to his son.

 

Nate took the tome and held it reverently. “What do I do with it, pa?”

 

Read it. Learn it. Keep it safe and pass it on to your own son… who will be born sometime before I get too old? Before my eyes grow dim?”

 

Nate grinned at the well-worn jibe. Standing again, he said, “You know, pa, he may well have been conceived at one of those doxy houses we passed on the way through Macon.”

 

The colonel’s eyes bulged and his face flushed as he blustered. “Nathaniel Jefferson Aries! I don’t care if you are the captain of your company, I will tan your tender hide if --“

 

Nate’s boisterous laughter stalled his father’s threat. “Come on, pa,” he said, patting the colonel on the shoulder. “Where do you think I get my sense of humor?” He headed back to see to his men, cleanly escaping any discussion of children and leaving the colonel huffing indignantly.

 

“Definitely your mother,” he grumbled to himself.

Edited September 14, 2015 by Cambrius

[edonil]

That was fun. Great way to show some more of the Colonel.

[Cambrius]

October 15, 1890

Fort Pulaski, Georgia

 

 

"The Ace of Rams is always a weapon." - Zoraida

 

 

A low mist hung over the marshy riverbanks as the morning sun crested the horizon. As the liquid golden light set the darkness into full retreat, the shadows rolled away to reveal the dead in their many hundreds. Broken bodies, broken guns, and broken walls lay spread on the loamy earth, littered with the wreckage of war balloons. Serial murders of crows feasted on swelling flesh and pecked at unseeing eyes. The earthworks were torn open. Blood ran in viscous streams to pool in craters and in the lower places.

 

Lieutenant Colonel Jefferson Barlow Aries (commander, Georgia 3rd Cavalry Regiment, State Guard) stood in his stirrups astride his charger and looked out across the carnage. The colonel’s stallion whickered and stirred beneath him. Thunderchild had a heart of iron but had never enjoyed the stink of slaughter.

 

The night’s battle had been frantic, seen in the strobing flashes of gunpowder discharges. Fort Pulaski had been shelled by devastating Parrott guns. Had the colonel’s horse regiment not arrived in time, the fort might well have been naught but rubble and dust. The 3rd Cavalry had swept into the valley and stormed through the royalist lines like an equine tempest of pistols and sabres.

 

Colonel Aries turned to face his men. Veterans all, they were the best horsemen Georgia had to offer. The three remaining companies looked back at Colonel Aries, all hard eyes and steel hearts. Captain Nathaniel Aries was there nearby, kissing his lucky pendant – and old, spent soulstone – and tucking it back under his shirt. He was covered in mud and blood, more than some of it his own. There also was Major Chambers, somehow not quite as dirty or disheveled as the rest.

 

The battlecasters had all perished in the night and the healers with them. The arcane combat had been horrific for both sides, straining the bounds of sanity. Charred skeletons and piles of ash with sticky lumps of charcoal were all that remained of the practitioners.

 

The colonel spoke, his baritone carrying clearly and breaking the unnatural stillness of the spent battlefield.

 

“This day may very well be our last. We’ve succeeded in breaking the siege of Fort Pulaski and the bluecoats have tucked their tails and run. But anything less than complete victory is tantamount to defeat for men such as us. We are proud sons of Georgia and we’ll not rest on laurels half-earned while the enemy blemishes southern soil with their boot prints. Sweet Lady Fate has more in store for us, boys, and a gentleman doesn’t keep a lady waiting.”

 

Colonel Aries sat back in his saddle and without another word turned Thunderchild hard. Three hundred sets of hooves pounded into the soft ground, the Confederate riders following their commander; the Georgia 3rd Cavalry was on the move. They flowed through the valley, skirting craters and trenches, hurdling or trampling the dead. As they rode they found the clear tracks of the fleeing royalists. Steam-powered platforms carrying artillery and heavy guns left ugly twin gouges in the road, an army of fire and iron unconcerned with concealment.

 

A roan horse emerged from the eastern tree line ahead. Colonel Aries recognized John Saturday, the Cherokee leader of the invaluable Indigena scouts attached to the regiment. Saturday wheeled his mount expertly and pulled up beside Colonel Aries, easily pacing the colonel’s charger on his own courser.

 

The colonel nodded to Saturday. “Make your report, son.”

 

The scout leader was not a man given to preamble. “The 1st Charleston Guard have made contact with the bluecoat pickets and will engage their infantry. If we make haste, perhaps we can close the fist.”

 

Colonel Aries grinned fiercely, an expression that had nothing at all to do with mirth. “Thank you kindly, my boy. Give my compliments to your warriors and send word to the Charleston Guard that the cavalry is coming.”

 

Saturday nodded curtly and sped away.

 

* * * * *

 

Cresting the ridge, Colonel Aries had a broad view of the lowland below. The bluecoats’ column was re-deploying for battle with the Carolinians. War balloons were being lofted high in the gusty air; somewhere to the north, the foot soldiers would be facing off. The colonel paused at the crest briefly, his regiment close behind as he looked through a brass bi-glass at the royalist forces. He turned and bellowed to his men.

 

“The heavy gun platforms are key. They’re big and slow and very, very expensive. We will outflank them. We will close with them, and we will destroy them; our battle brothers are counting on us. A twist of fate has set the wind at our backs and we will race it to the enemy. Save your pistols for platform crews, use naphtha grenades on the guns. Do not engage the main force. Our advantage is in our swift and violent momentum. Now ride!”

 

The Georgia 3rd Cavalry hollered war cries as they rolled over the ridge crest like a screaming tidal wave. Colonel Aries felt an anbaric shiver, his bloodlust rising as he set Thunderchild to battle. At the very tip of the Georgian lance, he drew his sabre and aimed it straight ahead. Somewhere close behind, the bugler sounded the Dixie Fanfare, followed by the brazen notes of Cavalry Charge. The colonel felt his heart pounding, keeping pace with the thundering hooves off three hundred warhorses. The gusting wind stung his eyes and a feral grin bared his teeth.

 

“For Georgia and fair Atalanta! Charge!”

 

Some of the royalist guns had managed to turn in time, and one lobbed a shell at the oncoming Georgians. It landed nearby and the explosion sent a horse and rider spinning through the air. The horse died instantly as it hit the torn ground. The cavalryman was trampled beneath a hundred steel-shod hooves. A Gatling gun-construct swiveled on its steam-powered platform and opened fire, scything down three more riders. But the lumbering gun platforms were no match for the cavalry’s speed.

 

The riders reached the near end of the bluecoat line and wheeled, charging along it. Heavy pistols cracked and royalist crews fell under the hail of fire. They ploughed through small contingents of infantry support squads, some cut down by flashing Confederate sabres. As the lance passed by, riders at the rear primed and tossed hissing naphtha grenades, and the gun platforms erupted in flame and shrapnel.

 

The bluecoats did answer. Gatling constructs and a few riflemen sent streams of hot metal at the Georgians. Horses fell, colliding with other horses or men on their way to the ground. Some riders were able to leap free of their dying mounts, but most were crushed beneath them. The 3rd Cavalry’s momentum slowed just short of the far end of the royalist line. Georgians were taking cover behind dead and dying horses, firing pistols at the enemy. Gun-constructs ripped through them, streaming fire at both the living and the dead.

 

Colonel Aries wheeled the lance and drove it hard back down the line toward his downed men. Momentum was everything. To be stationary was to be defeated and the colonel was not a man to accept defeat. Vaulting over the hunkered-down riders, he steered Thunderchild at an artillery platform, sabre raised. The fallen riders took the colonel’s cue and charged the platform. Georgians rushed the royalist crews and a melee of sword battles ensued.

 

“Too damned slow!” the colonel bellowed. The ground shuddered and a great spray of earth and stone erupted nearby. In their desperation, the bluecoat artillery was shelling their own line in an attempt to kill the Confederate cavalry among them. Farther north, ground crews dragged war balloons upwind, trying to get them close enough to use their bombs.

 

Colonel Aries led the lance in a circle about the fray and spotted Nathaniel leading some men on foot from the smoking ruin of a gun-construct. “Move, damn you!” the colonel hollered at his men. “Move!” Leaning down, he grasped Nathaniel’s arm and pulled him up, swinging his son behind his saddle.

 

"Thank you, pa!”

 

Colonel Aries spared a wry glance at Nathaniel. His son grinned back at him through a split lip, a thin ribbon of blood trickling from a fresh gash on the younger Aries’ face. The wound would provide the boy with another scar and story for the doxies.

 

"Those gun-constructs aren’t so very tough, after all,” Nathaniel said. Colonel Aries couldn’t help it, the boy’s spirit was indefatigable and drew a harsh bark of laughter from his hard-bitten father.

 

 

TO BE CONTINUED

Edited September 14, 2015 by Cambrius

[Thechosenone]

Enjoyable read. I'd like to see some of your alt Earth data, especially the magic, translated into something Aries sees and deals with. Would like to know from his perspective how the world works, who the good guys and bad guys are and things like that. Unless i missed some of that somewhere. Possible.

[Cambrius]

So far I only have his perspective on the United Kingdom of America as might be expected from a loyal citizen of the Confederate States of America. This little bit was a peek at his past and some glimpses of tech.

[Cambrius]

Hey everyone! Just a quick note: I will be continuing Colonel Aries' chronicles soon. But round about this time of year, all of my extracurricular activities start to drop off a bit. Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the concurrent sharp increase of overtime hours at work conspires to keep me much busier than usual. This time around however, I also have my own upcoming wedding in January, the honeymoon in Vegas, and then my best friend's wedding in February.

So I will be rather distracted from my reading and writing. I will continue to do it, just not nearly as much as I would like.

Cheers, folks.

[Cambrius]

October 15, 1890

North of Fort Pulaski, Georgia

 

More gun-constructs were turning and approaching to reinforce the royalist rear, heavier platforms armored with an iron glacis. They were negotiating the terrain around a small hill, arranged almost like a shield wall. Then Colonel Aries saw why. Behind the rolling constructs came a larger, armored steam-wagon carrying a long, narrow cannon. Thick black smoke belched from its exhaust as its studded iron wheels clawed at the earth. A royalist banner flew from a staff on the rear, but the crowned black eagle painted on the the front belied its origin. The German Empire had loaned the war machine to the bluecoats.

 

"Ah, hell," muttered Colonel Aries. Nathaniel leaned close to be heard.

 

"We've got to pull out, pa."

 

"I know that, boy."

 

"And we've got to kill that war wagon."

 

"I know that too, dammit!" Tactics and strategies and the experiences of almost three decades of combat command flew through the colonel's mind. The 3rd Cavalry had exacted a heavy toll from the royalists, but wasn't going to do much more good for the Charleston Guard. At the same time, there was no way Colonel Aries would suffer that foreign monstrosity to live.

 

The colonel kicked hard into Thunderchild's flanks and led the lance in a charge up the side of the hill, using the cavalry's speed to flank the oncoming constructs. Thunderchild struggled forward, his irregular gait alerting Colonel Aries to the charger's waning strength.

 

"One more good run, old friend," he said to his mount.

 

As they swept over the hill and angled down at the war wagon, Nathaniel crouched on the charger's back. He steadied himself against his father and pulled all the grenades from the colonel's belt.

 

"What the hell are you doing, boy?"

 

Nathaniel said nothing as Thunderchild was coming alongside the war wagon. The left side of the lance opened up on the backs of the armored constructs even as they fired on the trailing elements of the cavalry formation. Nathaniel tensed for a moment and then flung himself from Thunderchild to the grinding war wagon. He landed awkwardly and scrambled along the back of the wagon toward the long gun. A heavy iron hatch opened and a bluecoat swung a sabre at the younger Aries. Nathaniel narrowly avoided losing a leg before kicking the royalist hard in the face. The enemy crewman fell back into the wagon's interior; Nathaniel primed and dropped three hissing naphtha grenades after him.

 

In that short time, Colonel Aries wheeled Thunderchild around behind the war wagon, the rest of the lance turning away from the imminent explosion.

 

The colonel wouldn't turn away. "Come on, boy!" he shouted, waving Nathaniel back to his mount.

 

Captain Aries turned and prepared to leap back to his father's mount when the war wagon lurched. Nathaniel was thrown forward, over the long gun. Somehow, he managed to tumble into a crouch and sprang toward Thunderchild.

 

Just then, the grenades detonated. The explosion ripped the armored war wagon open, throwing Nathaniel into Thunderchild's side as white-hot shards of iron shrapnel scythed through his legs and back, and through the horse's belly.

 

Colonel Aries was tossed free of his mount. Something smashed the side of his head and the world spun down to black.

 

A muffled buzzing filled his head. Black became gray and fizzed into morning light as he opened his eyes. Or tried, only the left obeyed, and found himself being dragged. That only concerned him when his left eye focused on the body of his son, face down and unmoving in the mud. His good eye bulged, the other responded only with a bright lance of pain he barely registered. The colonel flailed weakly at the hands bearing him away; all of Colonel Aries' strength was spent on a wordless bellow of anguish, a haunting roar of wild, defiant sorrow.

 

Darkness then claimed the colonel with merciful rapidity.

Edited September 14, 2015 by Cambrius

[Cambrius]

This story will continue further; I would also like to thank anyone still reading this thread. I'm trying to be on here more, reading and commenting, even with the increased number of hours I'm working lately.

Edonil, Thechosenone, Absolution Black, and the rest... I swear on all things bacon that I will set aside time for your stories.