Chapter 2
It took three days to get to the edge of the country of Tathensi and cross into the border of Serasburge. I knew this because the other version of me had despite shafting me royally had left me several things in my luggage including a map with a path marked on it that the carriage was going to be taking. He had also decided my being completely unaware of political and historical context was going to be an issue, so he had left me several books on the histories of both Tathensi and Serasburge along with several notes on where to start my crash course in historical and political knowledge.
Apparently, Tathensi was a monarchy led by a king, the current ruler of which was Lord Garlan Horannaas, affectionately known as Garlan the just. He, in his rule, had brokered several peace deals with several countries, lasting alliances that were strengthening Tathensi quite a bit. Serasburge was just one of the latest in a series of acquisitions of allies, and I spent a brief moment wondering if Garlan was gathering allies because he saw some conflict coming. That would not be fun seeing as I was now enrolled in a military academy, I would assume that meant that should we go to war I would be going as well…
The history of the country was interesting to me, though perhaps that was due to the need to know as much as possible due to my circumstances, after all, if I was to survive this I was going to need that information and that was a powerful incentive indeed.
Serasburge was a small country to the east of Tathensi, so small in fact that three of them could fit inside the Tathensi kingdom’s borders. But it was a prosperous nation, fiercely defended both by its regiments of men and women and apparently by its geography. There was only one way into the kingdom by land, it was the path that we were currently on and it involved going over the Svortan mountains at a single small pass, a pass that was defended rather heavily by a strong fort known as the Svortan fort. The only other way into the country was via the port. Serasburge, though prosperous in my opinion was more like a state than an actual kingdom, it only boasted one large city that of Serasburge and it was roughly the size of Texas. The only real reason it hadn't been absorbed into another empire was likely due to the geographic isolation as well as an apparently abundant amount of independence of its citizens.
I liked the people already.
According to the books I had the population of the country was likely one to two million, which while that sounded like a lot of people, was rather sparsely populated as I was pretty sure Kansas the state had almost three million if I remembered from my high school classes. The bowl like location the country sat in was probably once a basin that had one side eroded from the constant pounding of the sea or other earth forces resulting in a shallow bowl. It would have likely filled with water from the ocean but most of the bowl apparently was above sea level resulting in a rather well fortified country with natural walls surrounding three sides of it.
The people of Serasburge had used their relative safety and access to the sea to great advantage, as while they were not the richest in the way of lumber and had to import a lot of it they were quite skilled boat crafters as well as merchants. Theirs was apparently the largest merchant fleet to ply the seas and the general wealth and standard of living of the people apparently attested to that fact.
When I needed breaks from the books, and while they were fascinating I did need breaks, I rooted around inside my bags, looking for any other clues as to what I was going to be expected to do. I found a lot of rather interesting items, the most interesting and surprising of which turned out to be a brace of flintlock pistols. They looked remarkably like the ones I used to see in museums or in t.v. shows like the one with Sean Bean called Sharpe.
I was familiar with cap and ball guns as me and gramps not only used to go hunting during Muzzleloader season every September from the 17th through the 30th, but also Gramps had taken me to a number of reenactments of the civil war, first as a spectator, and later as I had gotten fifteen or so as an actual combatant with him.
Muzzleloader season always ran before the regular hunting season, and since there were significantly less hunters out, the deer were in rutting season and no one had yet started riling them all up. There was something strangely satisfying about shooting a muzzleloader, knowing that you only had one shot, knowing that you had to get in close.
The pair of pistols, a brace if I was remembering my terminology correctly, was beautifully made. The furniture on them was constructed from some sort of dark gray wood, almost black that had lighter almost golden looking striations in it. The barrel gunmetal gray and octagonal instead of circular. The strangest thing about them was the fact that they didn't seem to have a doglock, which was the curved piece of metal that held the flint. In fact they didn't seem to have any sort of striker on the outside which meant it had to be internal. The other odd thing about them was the fact that instead of a trigger there was an strip of metal that was inlaid in the back of the stock where the trigger would be. It looked to be made of brass and had some strange ruin like markings carved on it. How a gun like this operated was beyond me, I didn't think they were replicas or fakes, they felt real enough in the hand I just had no earthly idea how to actually fire these things.
The inside of the bore was smooth, and while I had never actually shot a musket that used flint as the sparking source I was generally aware of how to use and reload them. The muzzle loaders that gramps and I used were cap and ball style, meaning that instead of using the flint to strike the spark on a pan of powder the hammer would strike a percussion cap placed on the nipple, and the sparks from that would travel down the tube and light off the flash paper that held the hand rolled ball and gunpowder in place.
It didn't appear as though the other me used cartridges of any sort, I found bag that had about twenty or so balls of roughly .45 to .50 caliber balls if I had to guess, as well as several pieces of paper some with small patches already ripped off. As well as a small leather bag with a brass tube cap that held with had to be gunpowder. Attached on the strap of the bag was a small copper ladle, no doubt for measuring out the charges when reloading. That did not sound at all appealing, seeing as if you were reloading one of these you might be being shot at.
I grabbed a sheet of the wad paper and found a charcoal pencil and began making a list for myself of things I was going to have to look into to make these more easily usable. The first and most obvious of these was to make myself some paper cartridges. Even in these were still going to be using flintlocks the thought of having to measure powder while being shot at sounded particularly dumb. As such I was going to make a few paper packets, in which would be a pre measured amount of powder and a ball. The idea behind it was to grab the ball in your teeth, rip open the paper packet and to pour the powder into the barrel, followed by the ball, ramming it in place with the rod, then followed by the packet of paper itself, using it as a wad so that the ball, which was a smaller caliber than the barrel, wouldn't simply roll out of the end before it was fired.
That would work in the interim, and it should boost speed of reloads significantly as everything was already there and ready to go. The second thing on the list was to get my hands on a rifle, if they had any, or a musket if they didn't and to find a rather skilled blacksmith. The modification to it I had in mind was one that would further cut down on reload time. The Springfield model 1873 replica that gramps had owned was a rather ingenious idea and also a rather simple modification to a muzzleloader.
The Springfield 1873 was also known as the trapdoor rifle, and as the name suggested it was the first standard issue breach loaded rifle adopted by the united states military. Gramps had been a little bit of a gun nut and it had been one of the many weapons in his collection. Like the name suggested the rifle just in front of the lock mechanism had a breech block that when the rifle was half cocked, which in most old guns was the safety, could be hinged up and allow access to the barrel. No really, that was where the saying “going off half cocked,” came from as a half cocked musket or rifle could not be fired.
This created several advantages, not only did this mean that the gun didn't have to use a ramrod, though one was often included to clear up blockages and for cleaning and the like. It also could be reloaded while prone, unlike a regular muzzleloader. It was also then that cartridges started looking more and more like the bullets I was familiar with, though these ones were still made of paper, or sometimes even thin cotton.
I had made flashpaper before with gramps, we used paper that was soaked in nitric acid and concentrated sulfuric acid before rinsing it off in water and letting them dry again. I didn't think that was going to be a viable solution for this however seeing as I didn't think they had amazon on which I could order those chemicals. There was magic in this world, perhaps I could find some other solution, but that was in the future not now, as such I simply wrote it down and moved on to the next thing in the list.
Bayonets.
Bayonets had a long history in conflicts, the blades often turning the muskets of their users into impromptu polearms. The interesting thing about them, or at least the interesting thing to me was the fact that for the longest time bayonets were attached to the firearms by shoving the handle of the blade down the barrel of the gun. This meant that up until people realized they could make mounting lugs for the things under the barrel, when they were affixed the gunner wasn't going to be able to either fire or reload the gun. When the lugs were added you had access to the barrel again, and while the actual bayonet still got in the way slowing you down it was doable.
I had no idea where the military technology of this world was, but seeing as I was supposed to go to a military academy I planned on making myself as indispensable as humanly possible. This wasn't my country, neither was Tathensi for that matter and while it didn't seem as though conflict was here yet if it did happen I would prefer to be the think tank that churned out ideas after ideas that no one wanted to risk on the front lines. Barring that I would like every possible advantage for myself.
When I wasn't studying or scheming I rode up top on the carriage with the driver, who was at first rather hesitant to speak with me. He was a household servant of my house apparently, a fact I gleaned due to the crest both on his riding jacket as well as on the side of my coach. I couldn't really tell if he was shy, worried about offending me, or just a non communicative person when it came to someone who was effectively his boss. Eventually I was able to convince him to speak to me and tell me a little about his life.
His name was Fran, short for Francisco apparently, and he had worked at my household for almost five years now. He didn't seem to take offense that I didn't know his name or how long he had worked there, I said it like I was embarrassed that I had forgotten his name. Apparently his wife was the second cook for the household and they had three children together. He was quite a pleasant man and once you got him talking about his children he never really stopped. I fielded questions to him about things the world that wouldn't seem too naive. It was in the third day when we were traveling and actually going up the steep incline of the mountain pass between Tantheni and Serasburge that he really started to open up to me.
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“So, are you nervous?” he asked, his steel blue eyes taking in the road and making sure there was no loose scree for the horse to trip on. The poor beasts had been laboring intensely to pull me and my luggage along and while they seemed to be doing well with it their bright white coats were now splattered with mud and dust, it coated down the inside of their legs and stomach. I had been helping Fran unburden the beasts and rub them down every night, which he had been rather surprised I knew how to do. The Alain of this world might not have had to do manual labor or animal husbandry like that, but Gramps was an old school style rancher, there were no ATVs that we used to go to the cows, he had always said it spooked them, spoiled the milk in the containers as it was. I had learned how to ride a horse at a very early age, and Gramps had made me learn to take care of a horse long before I was ever trusted to ride one. I had started out on an old mare named Nelly, she had been the most gentile horse that ever walked beneath the sun.
“Yes,” I said honestly as I watched the horse’s tail swish back and forth with the movement of its body. “How can I not be?” I leaned back and laced my hands behind my head, looking up at the sky and sighing. “I’m going to be living in a new country, one that is not my own, marrying a woman I don’t have the foggiest idea about neither in the terms of looks nor in the terms of brains and manners, I am going to be attending a military academy in a country that is once again not my own, and to top it all off, I get to meet my future parents in law right away without any sort of buffer or really time to contemplate how they will take the news.”
“Well,” he blew out a breath, the motion puffing his long sandy blonde mustache. “When put that way…” he cut off and shook his head. “I can't say much about the rest of it, but the meeting of her parents shouldn't be so bad, they have had just as long as you have to get used to the idea,” I snorted, thinking to myself that I hoped they had rather longer than I had actually gotten. “And besides, you nobility lot are all used to marrying off to someone they've never seen for some sort of political advantage.”
This time I really snorted. “Yeah sure,” I said with a self deprecating laugh, “Interesting thing about all those other political marriages though.” He looked over at me and in a deadpan I said. “They weren't me getting married.”There was a pause, a pregnant moment of silence before he broke out laughing. I was able to hold out for a few seconds before I joined him. It took quite some time before the cascade of laughter was able to die down, when it did he turned to look me square in the eyes, all seriousness gone.
“You know, you're different now,” he said and I felt a knot form in my gut.
“Oh?” I asked, not trusting myself to say anything more.
“Yeah,” he said, turning to look at the road once again. “I couldn't put my finger on it until now, but you seem to have matured, it's almost like you have a different worldview than you used to.” from what little I could pick up before I was shuffled off to the fact that the other version of me had decided to shirk his responsibility to his nation and his family and to push it all off onto a stranger I was coming to the conclusion that he had been if not selfish than not fully mature, part of that had to be due to his rank in society I think, and the idea of him having no servants and having to work with his own two hands in my original world brought a sort of malicious joy to my heart. ”I hope you don't take offense in my saying so.”
“Not at all,” I said, looking at the mountain pass before us. “I think a change of pace and scenery will do me quite a deal of good, speaking of a scenery change, would you look at that?“ the ridge in front of us fell away and we were able to make out the actual keep blocking the pass. If this was the only overland route through to the kingdom then it wasn’t surprising in the least that they had been able to stay independent. The keep itself was of gray stone blocks that were so massive I could easily see them individually even at a great distance. They were built into the wall of the pass on either side and it looked like there was an airlock of sorts that one would need to break through before they could get into the keep proper. It was a rather ingenious idea, if an attacker got through the first set of doors they would find themselves boxed in by the walls and another set before they could even get into the keep. In this small area any attackers would be boxed in, and the defenders would be able to rain down hell from above them on all sides.
The road was only one or two carriages wide from the looks of it, and there was a small procession of wagons and coaches on their way into the country as well as those that were leaving. The wagons and carriages and what have you leaving the country seemed as though they could just pass through, but those that were going in were subject to searches by armed soldiers.
The soldiers were dressed as I was, though they didn't have the embroidered collar or lapels that my uniform did and seeing it on another once again struck me as Napoleonic era mixed with perhaps some world war 1 styled uniforms. Where the uniform was different from the ones I had seen in my world was the hat, there were no tall plumed hats but rather a flat cap reminiscent of the ones workers wore in the industrial revolution in America. Both of the men checking out the cargo and passengers of the people entering wore them and they also both had them cocked so that the side over their left ear was lower than the side on the right.
The color matched the jacket and it was pretty clear that they were part of the uniform even if they were rather strange and outplaced looking to me. Other than that they both bore musket with bayonets affixed, and as we got closer I was able to make out that they were indeed on lugs, meaning there was no need for me to introduce that to this world, apparently they had already worked that one out themselves. Each man also had a large knife practically the length of a forearm that was strapped across his chest, the tip pointing up to the left shoulder while the handle was downward towards the right hip, obviously this was for quickly drawing and using.
As we pulled up their relaxed manners abruptly changed as they saw me and I assume my attire. They snapped to attention and saluted across the breast with their left fist thumping them in the right side of their chest. Not really knowing what the proper response would be I decided to explain myself to them, after all, I was not yet in this military academy let alone having graduated from it.
“At ease,” I said, hoping my voice sounded more sure of itself than I felt at that moment. They relaxed, the posture becoming much more like it had been before, though not entirely. “There is no need to salute soldiers, I am not yet an officer.” There was a look of confusion on their face so before they could ask a question I decided to preempt them. “My name is Alain Kleisman, of the kingdom of Tathensi, I am betrothed to Lady Eleanor vas Graasman, and I am going to be attending the academy at Serasburge.” That made them look even more confused, perhaps that was not a well known thing for the average soldier and this was news to them. I don't know and couldn't have guessed but their attitude towards me went from respectful to suspicious almost instantly. It was amazing what a set of shoulders and how they were held could tell you about a man even if the faces still remained stoic.
“Sir Kleisman, if your driver could direct the carriage over there we would like for you to wait while we confer with the commandant,” said the taller and slightly older of the two men. I looked over at Fran and nodded to him indicating the location that the soldier had pointed out, slightly off to the side and out of the way of the flow of traffic.
“That will be fine,” I said nodding and Fran looking only slightly worried did as instructed moving the carriage off to the side to allow others to pass. As it would turn out, either the commandant was a busy man or else he like to make others wait as it was nearly half an hour before the soldier came back and asked me to follow him. I nodded to Fran and got down and was about to follow him when I remembered something, I turned back to the carriage much to the soldiers’ annoyance and opened the door, pulling my bag to me and finding the correspondence I was looking for. It was stamped and sealed with my houses’s sigil in dark red wax, and it was addressed to the commandant of this very keep, likely for this express purpose.
In fact there was a number of letters addressed to many many people and this was one of the few that I had discovered the recipient for. I had no idea if the other me was the one who wrote it or if it was written in another hand. I grabbed it and resumed my march into the compound. The keep was much smaller on the inside than I thought it would be, but then again the pass was narrow and so if you had a rater determined force keep or no keep you could likely hold this pass quite easily. The inner bailey was roughly a quarter the size of a football field and was surrounded by high walls that had wooden stairs attached to the stone of the walls leading up the parapets above where defenders would stand. These wooden stairs had sections that clearly were meant to be cast down in the event of a breach, or else hauled up to prevent the enemies that had breached the gate from easily gaining the tops.
It was up one of these sets of stairs that I was led into a small office with only a single narrow arrow slit style window to let light in. It was sparsely decorated, in fact if I was to look at it from a modern perspective I would have called it spartan. There was a single desk on which sat a lantern that had yet to be lit, the light of the window slit apparently providing enough illumination for the man that sat behind the desk scratching away with a metal pen that he dipped a time or two in the inkwell before he continued writing. Other than the desk there was a dresser and a bed in one corner of the room hinting at the secondary purpose of the chamber, and leaning against the wall next to the man was a musket.
The man himself was a plain sort, his sandy brown hair was pulled back and tied behind his head and his face was clean shaven. He had a strong square jaw and in the low light of the room I could only say his eyes were dark colored. Still despite the illumination he wrote with confidence and it didn't take long for him to finish his letter, toss a handful of what looked like sand on it and then tap it back off of the paper before folding it up and setting it to the side of his desk.
He rose then, smiling with his hand outstretched and I instantly reacted by reaching forward and giving his hand a hearty shake. The look on his face as I did that was odd, and for a brief moment I was confused. I was born and bred in Kansas, and in Kansas when a man offered you his hand you took it and applied a firm handshake, it was just what you did, it was as normal to me as breathing air, and yet by the look on the commandant’s face that appeared to not be so here. It took me a second to realize he was reaching out for me to place the letter into his hand and not to shake my own, and I had to tamp down on the urge to groan and blush in embarrassment. It was the same feeling as when you see someone waving at you and so you wave back, only to realize that it was meant of the person behind you, that feeling that caused you to want to crawl into a hole to die.
I don't know how well I did hiding the blush but I gritted my teeth and fought through it, handing over the letter to the man who took it and sat back down in his chair. Pulling a small knife from somewhere he opened the letter, cracking the wax seal and holding it up to the light of the window.
“I see,” he said looking at the letter, then up to me. “You are not the first of the Tathensi nobles to pass through here, we have already received visits from four of your cohorts,” well that was news to me, but then again perhaps it wasn't too surprising, the letter the other world doppelganger of myself had left me had said something about me being one of many nobles apparently sacrificed to this deal.
“Are any others going to the academy?” I asked, realizing suddenly with rather more dread that if they were they might expect me to know them which could lead to rather more than a few bad moments and encounters.
“No,” it was a rather blunt and brusk statement and I looked over at him and he was scowling at the paper before turning his gaze to me. “The academy is an institute for the teaching of the best of the best, they were not qualified.” He leaned forward on his desk eyes narrowed. “ it is not an easy school to get into, and despite the fact that your father is a general in Tathensi you will not be receiving any special treatment. In fact you will be treated with more scrutiny, both commoner and nobility go to the academy, the higher the rank the more that is expected of you, and while your father might have pulled some strings to get you into the school he can’t do a thing to keep you there.”
I felt my back stiffen, it was news to me that my father was a general, but premier on my mind was the implied insult of his words. “He won’t need to Sir,” I said and he raised an eyebrow at my change in demeanor.
“Good,” he said shortly, “while you wear that uniform you represent us all, am I clear?”
“Yes Sir,” I said. “Is there anything else?”
“No, you are free to go,” I turned on my heels and walked out of the door letting the anger keep my spine straight as I left.