Realistic or Modern Project Syndicate: Scarlet Company IC [CLOSED BETA]

[Pilgrim59]

Prologue: Act 1

Lush green fields spans across the horizon for as long as the eyes can see. Oaken canopies blankets the land, while the willows gossiped with the tranquil breeze along the creek. A certain immaculate estate, well-maintained and free of vines, an estranged piece among the sea of greens. A hundred miles or so west of Philadelphia, the mansion dwelled in solitude. Red Meadow Mansion, surrounded by acres of untamed land, all the while a natural fortress upon a hill. Once home of a certain French businessman, was now an abode of a certain Scottish, but foremost British officer - Lord Marlowe Scott of Blackford.

The man had chosen to settle here in the colonies after the war. Many like him, chose the possibility of becoming rich than face the reality of being poor. For some, being away puts their hearts to rest, as they could not bear to bring their darkness home. Eventually his regiment was disbanded of recent. The reason was plain and simple, the Empire had lost as much as it gained. There have been little needs for the uniforms in peace. Yet, despite his early "retirement", the man spent much time putting together what remained of his old regiment. Helping hands, indentured services, whatever fancies the ledgers, to Scott, he only wishes to save what he could.

Calm and reticent in his manners, Scott knows full well of his innate nature. It gnawed at him, day by day. The death of his brother in arms in Canada, dusted and given merely a mention in dispatches. Forbes, Wolfe, all too familiar in names, yet distant in their fated journeys. To commit to his ideals for the New World, Scott must now seek the end of this new beginning. His journey will be long and arduous, but he will not tread it alone.[/div]

 

[Pilgrim59]

Lord Marlowe 'Black' Scott
Headmaster of Scarlet Company
Red Meadow Mansion, Pennsylvania
Rielaix​

In the fall of 1763, rumors of a war eventually made sense of the negligent populace. General Amherst's post-war policies were grievous in its enactment towards the native Americans that were allied with the French. For Scott, it was inevitably precarious to his meticulous schedule. Impeccable timing was no stranger to the man, for such was the hindrance of the Creator's playful hands. But even His instruments are capable of defiance. How else did mankind fell so far from grace in the first place? Such was the nature of mankind's curiosity and defiant nature. And these innate natures got the better of a sensible man as Commander Amherst, a certain general that Scott served under after his superior's death at Abraham's Plain. His last words would be a prophecy to the situation that Scott found himself in now.

General Amherst's policies would fail, and it had failed. If he had heed Wolfe's dying words, perhaps Pontiac's acts would have been averted. But alas, here they found themselves in the midst of a war they could ill-afford for. Scott was meant to retire, particularly after the disbandment of his regiment. Yet here he was, expecting the arrival of General Thomas Gage, of whom had recently took up Amherst's post. Among his company of redcoats and advisors, were an acquainted face that Scott had met prior, of whom was independent of her purpose for a visit. Yet here she was, lending an ear to politics and war. The Mistress of New Essen, Lady Charlotte von Hohenzollern. A name befitting of her stern blue eyes of the Nordsee. Scott met Hohenzollern a few weeks back, when he was touring Virginia for business ventures. The two came to be occupied by tea and small talks. Days would become weeks, and here she was.

Scott gave Charlotte a shareholding title in his company, a progressive decision born of his eagerness to study the southern economics. While she had partook in much of his ventures as a well-endowed partner, Scott kept his watchful eyes on her work with great scrutiny. Every ledger, every transactions went through him personally. Scott believed in their benefitting relationship, but kept a high guard pertaining to the Prusso-American's endeavor. He did not trust her. A person who had bankrupted and seized numerous plantations in the south and earning for themselves a certain moniker was no short of a monster. He himself, was no short of her work on commercial interests as he was with politics. Charlotte is unpredictable by nature of her resume alone, and that was more than enough any reasons for him to keep her on watch. Sooner or later, she would turn, it was a question of when. For now, he would abide by their firm foundation as business partners and justify it as thus.

"Lord Scott. You seem to be held captive of your thoughts. Or perhaps Lady Hohenzollern's beauty have enraptured you so, sir?" spoke Commander Gage, whose white wig and emblazon uniform kept him apart from the other redcoats in the room.

Scott found himself at the dinner table across from Gage and the rest of his staffs. His black coat with red facings held him as a distinguished member of the table. The evening sky encroaches, only kept at bay by the lavish chandeliers. In his hand, a tumbler glass of malted scotch. Settling it down, the Scotsman smiled lightly.

"As sharp as ye were in the last war, General. The latter so it seems. I imagine your trip has been long from Montreal?" Scott replied with a chuckle, turning briefly towards Charlotte then back at Gage.

"Quite. But I would give anything to be out of that forsaken land. T'was naught a bargain, but rather an inclination of duty, sir. We are at war."

"I'd imagine England is. Lord Amherst seemed ta have left ye quite a piece. Pray tell, isnah a fair ride from New York to Pennsylvania?" Scott asked sharply, tethering on the questionable travel of a British General to his mansion. Especially on the the fact that it was a while since any British officer would go out of their way to attend to the Red Meadow Mansion.

"Hmm... t'was with purpose, I assure you." Gage eyed his staffs briefly then shot a straight glare at Scott. The room was firm, as the silverwares found their purpose in silence. Scott turned his head slightly to the left and paused, cueing his servants nonverbally. The maids and attendants scurried along, closing the doors behind them.

"I am a farmer and a businessman, sir. If t'is war business you speak, then I must courteously abstain on the subject."

"Signal Hill, three years past. Twenty Frogs by your own saber. You carried that banner with honour. Your oath was sworn to England and your blood ensured the rights upon these lands to which we sit on today, sir. You are well-versed with Oneidan and Mohawk during Forbes' expedition, were you not?"

"T'was. I have lived a war, Gage. I will not suffer another."

"Neither shall the Crown. A diplomatic mission is all I seek from you, Scott. Sir Wolfe said it best at Abrahams Plains, you and I both believed that to be the better alternative. Unless, you deny the privilege of serving the crown, sir?" Gage affirmed with a stern voice, prompting his men to impose their watchful glares.

"Every man is bound by his oath. Isna like I have muchta choice, do I?"

"Every honorable man, Scott, and I am looking at one right now. Lives will be saved. For King and Country." Gage raised his toast, alongside his staffs in red.

Scott eyed Gage, his eyes disdained, yet he uttered not a word. The other redcoats were attentive to his reaction. Like vultures waiting for an opportunity, Scott was rendered helpless in the imposing eyes that were upon him. He had no choice but to concede to Gage's demands. After all, being a Scotsman was already a mark made for him. Treason shall be his name had he protested. Scott downed his scotch with a single gulp and sighed slightly.

"For... King... and Country." Scott said softly, with a slight pause.

"... If ye good gentlemen will excuse me. I need to take madame Hohenzollern for a dance, lest the coming war bereave me of a waltz." Scott replied with a playful facade, sparking a certain relief from the morbid atmosphere of the room, as he made his way towards Charlotte.

"Our sincere apologies, Lady Hohenzollern, for the intrusive matters that beckons us men. Surely you will understand and forgive us for our indiscretions. Please, do enjoy your dance." Gage addressed Charlotte, bowing slightly.

"Politics never fail to find its way to me. I wish we had settle for a finer setting this fine evening, but alas. Will ye oblige me to this minuet, madame?" Scott spoke softly, as he accompanied Charlotte to the ball room where the rest of the other guests are paired up for the occasion.

 

[Rielaix]

Charlotte von Hohenzollern

Disembarking after her long travel from Virginia to Pennsylvania, Charlotte was greeted by a handful of redcoats at the gates. In contrast to the self-proclaimed businessman's professed purpise, his mansion was no less guarded than that of a British fortress. As a business partner to Lord Scott, Charlotte was reassured by his security details and the manner to which she was treated. She like to keep it that way. Her frequent trips from the south to his estate are usually viewed by outsiders like she was his mistress somehow. But Charlotte only laugh at such a ridiculous perception. She understood the traditions of old, and dismissed it as something obsolete in the ever changing world. Progressive in her beliefs, Charlotte only seek to advance herself through good business with a capable man as Scott, and so far he has not disappoint.


"Lord Scott. You seem to be held captive of your thoughts. Or perhaps Lady Hohenzollern's beauty have enraptured you so, sir?"

"As sharp as ye were in the last war, General. The latter so it seems."

Charlotte giggled at Scott's response, as she drank her wine. His Scottish dialect was one of the few things that kept her entertained. She herself had kept some east Prussian pronounciations growing up in a German town in the colonies. It was mostly on her parents' side.

Charlotte listened to the men in red, especially the one that donned gold braidings, whose gentlemanly manners are complemented by his asserting words. During there whole talk, she studied Scott's responses. Evn she did not knew of his old accomplishments until General Gage reminisced of his deeds during the last war. At the time, Charlotte was only a young student of trade, residing with her family in Virginia. But it was during the war that she developed her opinions on loyalty to the British crown. The tense situation in the room only made her more interested on how Scott would respond. He eventually bent to Gage's proposition. It was more like an order, as she saw how reluctant the man was when he hailed 'For King and Country'.

"... If ye good gentlemen will excuse me. I need to take madame Hohenzollern for a dance, lest the coming war bereave me of a waltz."

"Our sincere apologies, Lady Hohenzollern, for the intrusive matters that beckons us men. Surely you will understand and forgive us for our indiscretions. Please, do enjoy your dance."

Charlotte smiled again, this time giving her hand to Scott as he took her from her seat.

"Apologies are not necessary, my lords. T'is a profound experience to hear of Lord Scott's exploits and honor in the matter. Rather quite delighted, on the contrary." Charlotte spoke, did a curtsy courteously as she left the room with Scott.

"Politics never fail to find its way to me. I wish we had settle for a finer setting this fine evening, but alas. Will ye oblige me to this minuet, madame?"

"If anything, your past is most interesting. A man of war and a capable businessman of late. I shall indulge you with a dance with great respect and affections, my lord."

Charlotte danced with Scott as the musicians bowed their violins and cellos. A medley of Haydn then Bach. Well-educated in a noble house, Charlotte matched Scott's steps with grace and elegance. Her eyes met his, as she contemplated his next course of actions. General Gage had personally commissioned him on a diplomatic mission to the Indian tribes in hopes of peace. It was hard for her to make sense of Scott's next moves. It would benefit her greatly if she accompanied him on his mission and learn of his purpose. Charlotte leaned in by Scott's ear and said softly:

"Humor me this, my lord. Will you truly embark on Lord Gage's orders? I would very much like to accompany you in your endeavors. I have much to offer, and I'm sure you will find my service of good use. Your loyalty lies in your oath to the crown, is it not? I ask simply out of courtesy, as a shareholder of the Scarlet Company, your deeds are that of my concern, my lord."

Charlotte's words were filled with determination and assertiveness. Using her status as Scott's trading partner and shareholder of his company, she wanted to see what would transpire in his journey. The more she learn, the more advantage she will have in the future. She will wait to see the day that Scott opens his mind. She knows that beneath the calm Scott, was a scheming beast, waiting to bite and consume everyone.
Pilgrim59
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[Pilgrim59]

Lord Marlowe 'Black' Scott
Headmaster of Scarlet Company
Red Meadow Mansion, Pennsylvania
Rielaix​

Scott displayed an amused complexion at Charlotte's remark. Given the circumstances that he found himself in, there was not much he could say on the matter. Compelled by his own wartime merits and Gage's own retinues of watchful eyes, it was imprudent to open a debate. The situation remained constant, he had already played into Gage's hands the moment he made a name for himself on the field. Connections were a double-edged sword. One could seek to cut and be cut by the same blade. Charlotte on the other hand, had already shown her loyalist position. While she seemingly discerned his obligation to Gage, her question was one of pressure, despite her subtle tone. She had a certain say as a shareholder in his company after all, and Scott now finds himself tackling a war on two fronts. But even he himself have something to gain out of it, and certain cards up his sleeves.

"Every man and woman are loyal to themselves first and foremost, madame. I ken that ye had your mind made. I see only opportunities of a non-gentle nature. If ye are keen to oblige the wildland's challenge, then so be it." Scott responded, as the minuet came to a resounding applause. He bowed slightly, before relinquishing Charlotte's hands.

By the door, stood Gage, of whom was eager to conclude his words with Scott. His fixed eyes beckoned the Scotsman's attention.

"Please make yourself at home, my lady. I must tend to proper congregation with Lord Gage before giving you a proper answer on the subject of Lord Gage's orders. I shall send for ye in the morning. My servants shall see ye to your room and needs. Lady Hohenzollern." Scott parted way with Charlotte, having entrusted a handful of maids to accompany Charlotte.

He and Gage would convene in the prior's office. The resounding steps of their boots would echo the well-lit hallway towards the eastern wing. Curtains closed, the maplewood door shut behind them, as two troopers in red posted themselves outside. Scott's hand moved quickly, conjuring for himself a pair of tumbler glass, filling them with scotch then offering one to Gage.

"I understand ye tah ken the drifting relations between us and the Iroquois? I highly doubt that they would lend an ear. Ye can't possibly think it's sane to hold peace with them?"

"Not me, you." Gage responded with a sharp gaze.

"They're warriors, Gage. You'd best prepare for a fight. Lord Amherst asked for one, and he's got it." Scot sighed slightly before taking a sip out of his glass.

"Perhaps you're right Scott. But I for one, am willing to heed Wolfe, our friend's dying wishes. Reason with that resolve, Scott. You think they will stop at Fort Niagara? You are no less considered an enemy in their eyes. Least we could do is give ourselves the grace of an olive branch." Gage mentioned General Wolfe, much to Scott's unspoken grievances at the mention of their name. Gage knew that Wolfe was Scott's friend and had used that to persuade the man.

Scott kept a cold, indifferent face, despite his melancholic sentiments at the mention of his dead friend. Perhaps Gage was giving a chance at redemption. To pay his dues and see to it that Wolfe's dying wishes came to be realized this time? Thoughts ran by Scott's mind, as he tried to wrestle with Gage's imposing will and what was practical. All in all, he needed to see what Gage truly sees in this conflict, lest he took up arms in the name of another Amherst.

"Perhaps. Tell me, Gage, how far will ye tread to bring about the end of this conflict?" inquired Scott, as he looked towards the curtain, turning his back on Gage.

A brief silence befell them, as Gage's eyes turned towards the painting on the wall. One that depicts a farmhouse and a fading colonial family in the background meadows. His voice relinquished its rough and coarse tone, transitioning into a reticent one.

"Whatever it takes, Scott. I have been in the service of the crown for as long as I could remember. The one thing that kept me sane was my wife. When you have a family of your own, perhaps you will understand."

Scott closed his eyes briefly. His hair fell upon his cheek. Family, Gage said. Scott reminisces the fermented memories of his home in Scotland. Not a letter since he left, all for the best, he thought. But like aged wine, these thoughts of family only serve to make him feel sluggish. He refused to give in to its enticing call. Love would make him soft. He did not need such weakness at a time when he needed to be strong. Another swig of scotch. If he could not make amends with his scoundrel of a father and his longing mother, the least Scott could do was to do good by Gage. Like him, Gage was neither an overzealous patriot nor a blindfolded politician. At the dinner table, he was a leader, but here in Scott's office, they were simply men. Scott tucked his hand behind him, slowly turning towards the light and Gage.

"Very well. I shall undertake this task, on one condition, Gage."

"Speak." Gage granted, lending ear to what Scott has to say.

"On the contrary, it shall not be spoken of. My Scarlet Company will bear the responsibilities of our actions, free of chain of command. Mercenary contracts, if you will. I shall have full autonomy in my endeavors. You have the right to deniability if necessary, but however I go about it, will be left out of your dispatches to England. In your own words, whatever it takes to end this conflict, what say ye?" Scott said.

Gage was both relieved and concerned upon hearing Scott's condition. While putting himself as a freelance entity, the man's actions would not reflect the conduct of Gage's service career. Lest atrocities be committed, it will only be attributed to Scott, rendering Gage blameless. But at the same time, there was no saying what Scott would do. Scott's words only serve to sow ominous meanings to Gage. But Gage had taken the liberty of going through Scott's service records. The man was capable, albeit unorthodox in his approach. He needed to be unleashed onto the enemy, not kept around. The two eyed each other without so much as a blink. Gage gulped sharply, acknowledging Scott's determined eyes and tone.

"That is unbecoming of a gentleman as esteemed as you, Scott. But, in these trying times, I must concede to make a pact with the devil. Very well." Gage remarked, but reluctantly agreed to Scott's condition.

"One more thing..." Scott asserted.

"... I require three hundred muskets, and regular ammunitions."

"Consider it done. I shall commission you a detachment of colonial militias as well."

"Nay. Belay that thought. T'is a gift for our friends in the west." Scott grinned.

"You can't be serious! You're going to arm the Iroquois?"

"Guns are half-measures of an offering, but foremost a sign of respect. The moment Lord Amherst took that tradition away, was the moment we cocked up that respect. They're warriors, my Lord. Unless ye have a better plan, I'd suggest we return the axes."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Scott. Give me your word." Gage replied, as he eyed Scott with a grim look.

"I'd rather you see it for yourself, my lord. Acta non verba, such is a part of my principle. I shall leave for Lake Erie by the 'morrow. It's best you head back to New York to organize your counterattack in the south. I will send a dispatch ta'ah when things are in order. Sir."

"Better the devil you know than the devil you don't, I suppose. Very well. I shall have the guns and munitions delivered to you by dawn. Best of luck, Lieutenant Colonel."

Gage went for a handshake then the two saluted one another. The lingering candle light cast a shadow upon Scott's silhouette as Gage took his leave.

The morning came at the notice of a wagon that was delivered to Scott's mansion. The first round of patrol took their time to secure it. Scott spent the night in his office. His eyes laden with dark indents, evident of his all-nighter. Rather than idling about in his sleep, the man had taken the liberty to plan his routes on the map to the tribes south of Lake Erie. Provisions were scheduled along the way, along with how many stops they had to make. Before long, a knock on his door caught his attention. Tucking his hands behind him, Scott accepted the assailant's presence. A trooper in black with red facings, similar to his own attire saluted Scott, then reported the delivery of the guns and munitions from Lord Gage. The latter had departed for New York at midnight, after concluding their business with Scott.

Scott dismissed his soldier with a pat on the shoulder shortly after. He then made his way to the dining room after dressing himself proper, hoping to get his breakfast, all the while sending a maid to summon Charlotte. It was time for Scott to reaffirm the Mistress of New Essen of their purpose and most importantly - a proper meal before their departure. Whatever Charlotte had in mind pertaining to their journey remains to be seen, but Scott had already made his move. Their grand waltz have only just begun.

"I shall see with me own eyes for what you have to offer, Madame Hohenzollern." Scott muttered beneath his breath, as a maid brought him his breakfast.

 

[Rielaix]

Charlotte von Hohenzollern

"Every man and woman are loyal to themselves first and foremost, madame. I ken that ye had your mind made. I see only opportunities of a non-gentle nature. If ye are keen to oblige the wildland's challenge, then so be it."

Charlotte widened her eyes. His Scottish accent was amusing to her hearing. Instead of having him captured by her words, Charlotte is now challenged by Scott's acceptance. He never confirmed his cause as a loyal British gentleman. He remained almost ambiguous in his schemes, making it difficult for Charlotte to read him. Even at the touch of a woman, Scott never faltered. He clearly had it all planned out, thought Charlotte. She resolved to be more careful in her approach, for Scott was many steps ahead of her. Never in her life so far had she been unable to read a man. For now, Charlotte could only throw a light laugh his way.

"Sehr gut." Charlotte responded concisely in German with an elated expression, as Scott took a few steps back.

"Please make yourself at home, my lady. I must tend to proper congregation with Lord Gage before giving you a proper answer on the subject of Lord Gage's orders. I shall send for ye in the morning. My servants shall see ye to your room and needs. Lady Hohenzollern."

"My appreciations, my Lord."

Charlotte made a curtsy to match Scott's bow. She was then taken to her room by the handful of maids at lord Scott's command. Before she left the hall, she caught a glimpse of Scott and General Gage heading towards the office. Even if he did not give a straight answer, Charlotte knew that Scott had already made his decision to accept the mission. Or maybe it was her intuitions. She will know soon enough in the morning anyways.

She was left in a room that Scott had prepared for her. It was simple enough for her taste, although it could use a few bouquets and bright curtains. The room was as stoic as the man's personality. Deep red and cherry brown was not going to win a woman's heart. Charlotte gasped at her own thought. It was indecent to pry into Scott's romantic life, although she was curious to know. The man was too stern and formal to be capable of delicate emotions anyways. But that was what she sees on the surface of the man. Maybe beneath that heap of a stony castle was a loving man. Charlotte tapped her cheeks lightly, shaking her head.

"Stop." she said to herself.

Charlotte was a loyalist before everything else. And Scott's unknown agendas only make him a candidate of dissent sooner or later. She must not let down her guard. Not around him. Charlotte called the maids to help her get into something more comfortable. The corset was robbing her of her breath. It was beneath her to undo her dress by herself. Such a sophisticated method of attire was something she had to endure throughout her whole life. Hopefully someone would invent something better for women in the future. She thanked the maids, letting them off after wearing her nightgown, Charlotte retired for the night. Even in her sleep, she was wondering what Scott and Gage was discussing about.

When morning came, Charlotte was awaken by Scott's servant. They helped her get dressed after a nice bath. Even for a mansion that was only seized a few months after the war ended, its facilities and manpower were unmatched. She gave credit to Scott for his genuine relations with his chauffeurs. Most of them were indentured servants, ex-soldiers and associates. They all shared an uncanni loyalty towards the man, out of respect. His estate was much smaller compared to her plantations in Virginia, but its inhabitants were dedicated to Scott. She expected no less from a British officer as Scott. Charlotte sashayed into the dining room, just as breakfast was served by Scott's servants. She saw a wagon outside with a tarp over it, with Scott's men surrounding it. Maybe it was something for the journey? It seems like they were heading out soon, Charlotte thought.

"Lady Hohenzollern of New Essen is here, sir." the guard announced, as she entered the room.

"Good morning, my lord. Are we venturing this day by General Gage's request?" she asked, as she drank her tea.

Pilgrim59

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[Pilgrim59]

Lord Marlowe 'Black' Scott
Headmaster of Scarlet Company
Lake Erie, Frontier
Rielaix Midrick​

"Morning to ye, madame. Indeed we are. But first, some salmon and tatters before we partake in the long road ahead." Scott confirmed Charlotte's inquiries.

The long dining table kept them at a certain distance from one another on each ends. Before them, a platter of smoked salmon with coriander and baked potatoes with creamy fillings, complemented by grounded herbs and steamed legumes. When their main dish were done, a pair of orange fools, well-mixed orange custards in tall glasses were served as desserts. Throughout their meal, Scott's hand went without pause, while he pondered upon their impending trip to the wilderness. He had his concerns regarding their safety, but was nevertheless confident in his survival capabilities. Even so, Scott must maintain his vigilance, lest he fall victim to carelessness.

When the two had finished their breakfast and tea, Scott took it upon himself to escort Charlotte to the carriage outside. Accompanying them were a patrol-sized group of thirty men. Like Scott, they were dressed in black with dark red facings, donning dark breeches and gaiters. Armed with Brown Besses and proper pouches, and powder horns. A black regiment of his own - a rather fitting sight to it given his "Black" moniker. Rather than putting on a gorget and epaulettes, Scott had made it his endeavor, rather than that for the British Army. He had said to Gage the night prior, it was in his hands that such a trip would bear. Aside from that, by representing himself as a British officer, he was liable to put this entire operation at risk. The natives would take a shot at him on sight.

His party took off soon after the man mounted his steed and led them out. Like a Quebecois seigneur surveying his land, Scott's presence served to keep his men in line. The hilly meadows turned dark, plagued by the thick woods before them. The dirt roads would fade into travois trails. Scott never shied his eyes away from the front since their departure, keen on his surroundings. Occasional attentions were tended to his map as he rode. His convoy composed of Charlotte's carriage, Gage's gun wagon, and some mounted gunmen. Hroughout the ride, Scott reminisce the last time he frequented the Oneidan chief many years ago during the war. At the time, they were allies, and he was on relatively good terms with the chief there. But all would change now that they are at war with Britain. Even more so on less-friendly terms if a new chief took office. But it mattered little to him. Scott was here to make peace and perhaps get what he wanted, and he intend to stick to those resolves.

As they approached the end of the travois trail, Scott navigated his group north, having inspected the road for a while. While the man knew where he was going, there was something else that troubled him. He prompted to stop on a few occasions. Disguising it as a measure of pathfinding, but he was reaffirming a sinister presence that have been trailing his party since the end of the travois path. They were being watched. But rather than panicking, Scott kept his wit about him and rode on. Surely, if their stalker were hostile, they would have taken their chance at the wooded intersection. Like them, Scott was also deciphering his assailant's purpose and goals.

Scott and his venturing crew found themselves at the edge of Lake Erie. Smoke trails were spotted on the horizon. The evening moon crept on them, but something was off. The village was too well-lit, yet there were no guards posted around the perimeter. It was common practice for the Iroquois to have a fire stoked beneath a hollow tree to conceal the smoke, in case of a night raid. Even more so during times of war. Yet, Scott have passed a couple of unlit trees. Not a single runner or tomahawk in sight.

He had walked into a trap, and he knew it, but Scott kept his men in tow, telling them to keep their pace as they approached the village. Not a single soul in sight. Scott dismounted his horse and made his way to Charlotte's carriage.

"Stay inside, Lady Hohenzollern. We may have unexpected companies."

He kept his pistol holstered. Eerie silence befell them. Not even the slightest sound of the wild critters chirping. Perhaps now, his assailants would induct themselves. His eyes turned to his left, then his right. He then adjusts his tricorne hat slightly, followed by a heavy sigh. Scott will not go down here without a fight. Even then, he would refuse to die before realizing his dream. He was determined to follow through with his agendas, and no one was going to stand in his way.

 

[Midrick]

JP Gray

JP had started his day off early like most, getting into the rough trousers and buckskin coats he wore to stave off the elements. He gathered the bounty of yesterday's hunt, pelts, meat, and animal parts that he would trade in town for non perishables, but mostly money. He had gathered most of the various tools he used for his chosen trade in the new world.

Instead of moving towards the small town to sell his bloody produce, he instead walked overland on a lightly used trail, to the uninitiated it would have been hard to spot, JP could follow the trail as if he had known it was there through some 6th sense. Among the things he carried on him was a waterproofed powder horn, along with shot in a treated leather drawstring bag. His hike took the better part of the day as he hauled his cargo on his back, he took infrequent stops to fill a canteen or rest and admire the woodland.

On his way to his location, he picked up the sound of multiple footsteps and the wheels of a horse drawn carriage. He moved slowly and stuck to the foliated shadows, drawing the hood of the buckskin over his light brown hair. English. he thought to himself, only reason they would be out here is for the Indians, he followed the section of men in quaint maroon and black instead of the kings scarlet. Mercenaries then... mercenaries usually meant one thing, battle, you didn't send them on peacekeeping or garrison duty.

He broke off from the section and proceeded to the Iroquis village with haste, he could warn them of the coming soldiers and hopefully either organize a defense, or take the saner option and flee.

---

Dusk had fallen on the village as well as the head of the mercenary company. Chief Crosswind had elected to send the women and children away into deeper parts of the forest near the lake. The warriors however were distributed through brush and foliage around the village if the mercenaries would take hostile action, the chief had asked JP to meet them, his logic being that one of their own would be able to negotiate better, so he now walked alone, rifle slung, into the clearing where the Englishmen stood. "Evening ser mercenary, and could I ask as ta what you would be doin' in this 'ere village?" he said to the lone figure. The warriors would spring if they heard a shot, hopefully this man and his company weren't as stupid as they looked.

Pilgrim59​

 

[Pilgrim59]

Lord Marlowe 'Black' Scott
Headmaster of Scarlet Company
Lake Erie, Frontier
Rielaix Midrick​

Scott's men filed themselves into pairs, as they cocked their Brown Bess locks at the sight of a rifleman approaching them. Scott eyed the man's precarious steps, despite his nonchalant pacing. He belayed his men of their cautious composure, and stretched his hand in a stern manner. One by one, his men simultaneously decocked their muskets, but kept it at the ready towards the sky. The last thing Scott wanted was a gunfight, especially when he does not know of their assailant's numbers. After all, they were on a diplomatic mission. Words should let loose before gunpowder and lead, no matter how eager his men were. Scott sighed, as he was greeted by the frontierman with a distinct Irish accent. He then briefed a glare at the corporal, whose musket was still presented towards the man.

"Stay that arm, corporal. Ye making nervous outta me." Scott commanded, with a strong tone, persuading his corporal to lower his gun and decock it properly.

"A diplomatic mission, sir. Despite what my zealous men may present themselves, I assure ye, we have no intentions of fighting or bleeding for tah English. Pardon my rudeness. I am Lord Scott of Blackford, gentry to Red Meadow Estate in Pennsylvania. I am here to broker a truce with the chief to this village here. Last I spoke, the chief was named Crosswind during the last war. Has he been succeeded?" Scott spoke to the Irishman, while nonverbally signal his men to unveil the tarp of the covered wagon laden with muskets. A gift for the Oneidan chief, and the rest for his future travels to the other villages.

"Fifty muskets, a gesture of traditional understanding. I'm sure you are well-versed. Given the vacant state of the village, I understand ye to be the Chief's spokesman. We will be well on our way once I have an audience with the Chief. My only wish is tah ken a deal between the Iroquois and that of my own interests. The English may yet see an improvement in their situation. But I assure ye, my men will not die for their cause."

Scott explained his situation, not withholding any information towards the Irish trapper. He could see it in the man's eyes that he had seen much. The gray tint of his sharp eyes dictate common sense and rationality, despite his attire and equipment. Honesty was the best policy, Scott deemed. He had hoped to avoid conflict where possible, and was not foolish enough to assume assertion of power while in non-friendly territories. He was not going to die for an ungrateful crown. He only hoped that Charlotte would be able to read the situation and not preside her situation as a loyalist on the matter, lest they invite trouble upon themselves.

"(Respect the gift and its giver.)" Scott said to the Irishman in Oneidan, quoting a proverb that he learnt from when he was a guest in the village. A time from when redcoats and some of the Iroquois had an understanding.

 

[Rielaix]

Charlotte von Hohenzollern

Charlotte was against Scott's call for her safety, but adhered to his words. She listened in on the conversation between Scott and the mysterious Irish man that popped out of the woods uninvited. Keeping in mind the tensions between the settlers and the Iroquois of late, it was unusual for a frontiersman to wander the Indians' territory. Peaking out the window, she noticed Scott's unfazed gesture. He told his men to safety their weapons, and took a diplomatic step to explain their mission. She was displeased when Scott said that he would not bleed for the English. Her very ideals were rooted in him carrying out the mission as expected of a British officer, but she digress. Scott was a man who had seen war and wanted to stay far from it. To that extent, she understood, but it only made her wary of Scott's agendas. Will he arm the natives to hinder the British's efforts to quell the rebellion? Or something far more sinister? She asked herself these questions, and resolved to exit her carriage.

"It was getting stuffy in there and I feel the need to exercise my liberty to some fresh air, my lord." Pilgrim59

She made her way towards Scott's side and spoke, while shooting a brief glance his way. Charlotte was not going to let him go about just because he told her to stay put. She was worried for a split second when the men readied their weapons, but was more concerned about Scott's well-being. Her personal thoughts were kept to take notes of his actions and nothing more. Besides, the Irishman could very well be the reason why he came here in the first place. Charlotte then turned towards the redheaded man infront of them. There were many unknown variables at play. For now, she would broker herself as Scott's aide. By the looks of things, it really seemed that the two distinctive gentlemen were estranged speakers. To that end, maybe Scott really is bemused by the trapper's presence. She believed that she was overthinking, but from her experience, it was better to be safe than sorry.

"I am Charlotte von Hohenzollern of Virginia. How may I address you, sir?" she introduced herself and inquired of the rifleman's name. Midrick

​

 

[Midrick]

JP Gray

JP scoffed when he heard the Oneidan adage, knowing a few words of the language didn't make you trustworthy, especially the English with their notorious habit of making changes and dishonoring previous agreements. JP's jaw worked as he thought if it was prudent to reveal his hand to the Scotsman.

Movement off to his left drew his attention, apparently the chief at least was willing to hear the man out. JP sighed and shook his head before sticking his left thumb and index finger in his mouth and issuing a shrill but brief whistle. The warriors that the Scot had previously noticed absent emerged from the surrounding forest, weapons lowered and passive. JP noticed that a woman had appeared, it was even more surprising is when she addressed him directly. It was a rare thing when a woman wasn't cowed into subservience or too timid to speak her mind. "Name's John-Patrick Gray, but I much prefer JP, Miss Charlotte." his eyes never left Scott's as he spoke, until a man of his mid 40's stepped to his left side. JP finally pulled his eyes away and spoke in Oneidan to the man. "Chief, he's on the Englishman's dime. Don't trust 'im." the chief narrowed his eyes at the man, sizing him up. He turned back to JP put his hand on his shoulder. "Do not let your hate blind you, Young Bear, I will hear what this man has to say." He said in Oneidan as he patted JP's shoulder and walked back toward the village. JP scowled and shook his head as he looked at the ground. "The chief'll hear ye out. Jaysus Kroist fook me." the last part was muttered, and he spat as he walked back, it was easy to see he was agitated as he walked. The problem was that the chief was too trusting of the English, JP knew that if this envoy tried anything, it would mean blood.

Pilgrim59 Rielaix​

 

[Pilgrim59]

Lord Marlowe 'Black' Scott
Headmaster of Scarlet Company
Lake Erie, Frontier
Midrick​

Scott comprehended the Irishman's distrust of his company, let alone his affiliation on part of Gage's commission. Even he himself did not carry love for the English, after what he went through during the war. Incompetent leadership, snobbish bureaucrats and the likes. The only thing that mattered in this New World was money - the lifeblood of aristocracy and landowners. Scott would see to it that his dream realized. Perhaps with time, even those disillusioned and scornful of the Crown would learn that they had a claim of their own rights. All it takes is a cause to rally behind, a cause under no flag, to be governed by no one but a common goal. One that would surpass states and faiths.

The man turned to Charlotte's presence, despite his advice. It seemed that she preferred to take heed of her own path. An unvoiced ferocity that Scott was fond of, albeit under careful grasps. The Prussian half-breed, despite her frail petite looks, still bear the Iron Blood of the Hohenzollern. If history taught Scott anything, it was that she proved to be a double-edged sword. For now, he would permit her to mingle with JP, as the latter called himself. But soon, Scott would have to tighten his leash, lest Charlotte broke loose. After all, Scott would come into conflict with the redcoats.

Scott unbuckled his belt that was laden with his sidearm and saber, and threw it onto the ground, before following the Chief towards his longhouse. Revelation of Chief Crosswind's son killed by the English during the last war party that joined Pontiac's in the south. It seemed that JP became that of his surrogate son. Even if the chief did not say it, Scott's watchful eyes could decipher the waning concerns that presided over the Oneidan. In wars, it is the fathers that bury their sons. Even now, Scott wondered if his own father would care to relinquish his drinking and whoring to bury him three thousand miles away. The sense of familiar kin eludes him. Crosswind and Scott took their time to unveil one another's perspective. Politics evades their talk, replaced by common grounds on agricultural interests. He brought the guns up as a gift, and sought to plan future pacts with Crosswind and the other tribes - the purchase of their goods in return for sole partnership and coexistence. The rest were spoken between the two, out of earshot of the Chief's attendants. Scott knew that Crosswind looked at him as an ambitious and fearsome man. But even a fool could not resist his propositions. It was either to spare them the viilent orchestra of war and adhere to Scott's plan, or let the English march through by the ends of their bayonets.

When the conference was concluded, Scott grabbed his belt from the ground and fastened it. A cut upon his hand, and that of Crosswind's. Their blood dyed the spirit's dew upon the clay vessel red, as the two concluded the pact with the consumption of a raw deer's heart.

"Your journey is an arduous one, Scott. The Hawk guided you here for a reason. I hope you find the light that you lost." Crosswind said to Scott. His grey eyes presided over Scott as if seeing an image of his dead son.

"I have suffered enough in the light, Chief Crosswind. Sometimes it's best to just embrace the Raven's veil of darkness." Scott replied, taking one last look at Crosswind, before taking off.

He ordered his men to leave fifty muskets and appropriate munitions behind. Scott made preparations with his company to camp outside the village for the night. The night kept them from venturing to the next village. Scott approached approached JP when all was said and done.

"Crosswind treats ye like that of ... his passed son. I take it that you have your reasons for dwelling here in the woods among the Oneidans than to settle east with that of your colonial brethren? Scott asked, shifting a bottle of rum from his saddle and offering it to JP.

The Irishman's choice of weaponry, accompanied by its pristine conditions, was the first thing that caught Scott's eyes since. Like Scott, he was lucky, or rather, he was smart enough to survive this long, particularly on the frontiers. It was not everyday you find a gifted frontiersman, and one that is driven by the hate for the English. Scott resolved, JP would prove to be a fine addition to his ranks. The only matter that beckoned was but a request from Scott to JP.

"Ye got a keen gift for lurking among us since the crossroads. I may have a use for your talents in my Company. I will spare ye the rouse-and-stir, so tell me, Mister Gray... Will you be willing to partake in the creation of a New World Order, for a handful of shillings in blood?" Scott said, his eyes fixed upon the stars.

 

[Rielaix]

Charlotte von Hohenzollern

"Name's John-Patrick Gray, but I much prefer JP, Miss Charlotte."

"A pleasure, JP." she replied with a curtsy to follow.

For a rough frontierman, JP seemed well-mannered for a man of his stature. Charlotte can't seem to dislike him just yet, even if he has a distinction in his glares at Scott. She turned to Scott, whose brief glance at her was like that of a stern and reprimanding officer. He did not say anything, but that gaze alone was enough to put shivers down her spine. Charlotte knew that he meant well for her safety, but her indiscretion now put her as a liability in the presence of their overwhelmed numbers. If the natives will not reason with Scott, why should they with her? But before she could say anything at all, Scott was off to the longhouse with the village elder. They spoke in Oneidan, a language that she could not make sense of. But as they exited the building, she already knew that Scott had gotten what he sought.

Charlotte felt Scott's presence as one who seeks to further his goals. He was a turbulent wind and a calm breeze. Scott was not easy to read. Even from the recent glare that he gave her, no matter how short of a glance, his eyes alone were as deadly as his composed attitude. But Charlotte did not come all this way to be in his shadows. No. She was here to uncover his plans. So far, none were present to suffice incriminating evidences. She could only watch. And watched Scott she did. Especially when he approached JP.

She believed herself to be a British colonist. She dislikes dissents and that was more than enough a reason for her studious situation with Scott. He commanded much influence among those in Pennsylvania by name, and now that he dealt with the Oneidan, it's only a matter of time before he embarks on a quest to form a country in his own name. Especially during times of war as these. Not only will it be difficult to dislodge him from his seat, but also the possible precedents of him allying himself with parties that were interested in destabilizing the crown's presence in the colonies. Scott was not simply going out of his way to appease the natives to forge a treaty. Instead, this was the first step to establishing his presence, gravitating all parties to his cause. But the one thing that still troubled Charlotte was Scott's ultimate goal for the colonies. He never said much on the subject many times before. It was then she caught him saying "...creation of a New World Order..." to JP.

It troubled Charlotte. With her as his business partner, she could not see him going this far for just money. He was just not the man to be a slave to monetary issues and its allure. Not glory, not gold, and definitely not God. Charlotte lifted her sidelock and sighed. She watched as Scott tried to obtain JP's service, while his men took turn by the fire. More and more, Charlotte became entranced by watching Scott at work. The man was adversely in contrast of her own beliefs, yet she saw him as more than a sly and secretive man. He was as enigmatic as his apathetic facade, but profound and thoughtful. It was a wonder for him to not be betrothed thus far. But then again, she knew that such a life was too boring for the likes of Scott. Whatever visions he had for this New World remains to be seen, but Charlotte will have the last say in it should he proves himself to be treasonous.

Charlotte wanted to approach him, but she refrained from doing so initially, as he has been occupied by JP's presence.


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