Posted:
Fri Apr 24, 2020 11:24 am
by Sarderia
ARTHUR HENRY ROTSCHILD LEE
VISCOUNT OF PETERSBURG
Arthur sighed a little, discreetly enough not to be notified by Longstreet.
Everyone is so inclined to protectionism these days. "Georgian citizens, of course. I hardly found the need to bring more out of state workers to the railroad. The railroad is entirely within Georgia after all. As for the port, twenty-five percent is sufficient for enough enlargement of the warehouses, se we agreed then. However I must ask whether it is allowed to form another shipping company in the Port of Savannah? We must prepare for the influx of new cotton, corn and all goods that came with the railroad, and fortunately I have several acquaintances in Britain and France to sell Georgian products."
EUGÉNE THIERRY BROUSSARD
MAYOR OF BEAUMONT
"The name's Gene. Gene Browster." It
was what he's called back in Louisiana when he was still a farmhand working the tobaccos for his father. Eugene stroked his beard and studied the man.
Another curious person - I guess he's no more a Boykin than I am. "I work at the City Hall. Some clerk and administration jobs. It's plenty boring after all, but the good news is I'm nicely paid."
That's not a lie either. A Mayor is technically the chief clerk. "The bad news, well, I'm wondering 'round here at night like some strange person, checking on the Mayor's papers and telegrams and all that. Tell me, pal, where do you come from? Somewhere far away, I'd guess, so I'd rather curious about what're you doin' on good old Beaumont. Only trains and train men goes round these parts usually."
Posted:
Fri Apr 24, 2020 8:58 pm
by Sanabel
Stonewall Jackson
Coronation Banquet, Biltmore PalaceJackson was about ready to retire to his chambers after a long evening of sitting at the right hand of the Emperor, when he was bolted out of late-night weariness by the abrupt entry of the Colonel. He watched and listened stoically as the man conveyed the urgent news and the young Emperor promptly fainted. He had dealt with partisans before in the Blue Ridge Wilds under his lordship, but nothing this grave.
Ignoring the young boy and the hysterical attendees who rushed to his side, Jackson turned to his loyal friend and fixer the Colonel Mercer. “Mercer,” he said calmly, “send a rider out to where the detachment of the Roanoke Rifles are encamped south of Woodfin. Order them to break camp, and immediately establish a new defensive line from Black Mountain to Weaverville. We cannot allow the partisans to reach the palace. After you’ve done that, I you are to ride for Lexington. I will keep Laura here by my side, but there is no man I trust more than you to mobilize the militias and protect my family in my absence. I am regretful in my inability to return home to protect my kin, but there are far greater responsibilities for me here.”
After that was handled, Jackson quickly surveyed the hysteria.
“Longstreet!” He called to the former General and brother-in-arms. “Leave His Majesty’s care to the womenfolk.”
Calmly, he walked to the court usher and the colonel who had brought the news.
“Colonel, currently our men are scattered. To the best of your ability, put out an order to the general staff for the battalion stationed at Camp Price to rendezvous with the Roanoke Rifle outside of Weaverville, and to establish a new defensive line until our forces can be mobilized to retake Camp Price. The partisans want us scattered and unorganized, for that is the way these ungodly men fight. Now go.”
The general in Jackson was coming out again. It had always been difficult to repress, and the impending conflict only made it more difficult. However his foremost responsibility was that of a statesman. So, he turned to the usher and said “Prepare the Imperial Chambers. Since the Emperor is...clearly incapacitated, I am evoking my responsibility as Chancellor of the Council and I am calling a meeting of said council.”
With that, he patted the usher on the back and turned to the remaining nobles. “Gentlemen, given the present state of the Emperor, I am hereby calling an extemporaneous meeting of the Imperial Council of the South, and will assume presiding duties as Chancellor until the Emperor holds the faculties necessary to partake. Duke Longstreet, and any other nobles recognized by His Majesty hold the right to attend and speak at the meeting of the Council, as per imperial law. I urge all of you to join me in the Council Chambers within the hour.”
Council Chamber, Biltmore PalaceWith the willing members of the Imperial Council gathered, Jackson took the presiding seat at the head of the great mahogany table. As is customary, he began proceedings with a few remarks of his own.
“Gentlemen, we are gathered here on the first evening of the resign of Emperor George Washington Vanderbilt, first of his name to rule. Now, many of you may point to this as a bad omen- that on the first night of his reign, our defenses would be broken. However, this is nothing but a pre-ordained sign from the Lord that the South must stand united! The survival of our people, our culture, and our way of life is at stake. And so, for that reason, I urge unity of this council, and I urge a quick and just response to the recent cowardly attacks by Appalachian partisans. I call upon the members of this council such as the revered Duke Longstreet to send reinforcements to North Carolina, as a show of Southern unity and strength in handling this crisis.”
Posted:
Fri Apr 24, 2020 10:09 pm
by Federal States of Xathuecia
James Churchill Conway-Johnson
Archduke of Arkansas
The Coronation Banquet
BILTMORE PALACE
James had been sitting silently to the far left of the new Emperor, far removed from the action and chatter. Perhaps it was a metaphor for the way Arkansas saw themselves within the greater scheme of the Southern machine or perhaps it was James' dislike of all this southern pleasantries. It was probably many things, for example, the Archduke had been schooled in Chicago, learning medicine in one of the beating industrial hearts of the Union. As much as his family claimed to the Confederate patriots in the Archduchy that this had no bearing on his judgement or his worldview, that was all a carefully crafted lie. Of course being in a Union city during his formative years had left an impression. How could they not? He saw the rapid industrialization of the city, the lives of free black men without any anger or resent from his own kind. It was a utopia to him, a place where wealth was possible with hard work. But it would need to be reconciled with the Arkansawyer way of life, though it was far more Western than Southern in his opinion. The South was plantations as far as the eye could see...Arkansas not so much anymore. In fact, the expansive deserts and Great Plains laid in their stead, with the Indian tribes on their borders. So let them decry the Archduchy as not Southern! It was not at all, it was a conglomeration of the possibilities of the West!
As James listened to the droning on of the nobility around him, allowing his thoughts to go wherever they wandered off to, he began to think of retiring for the night. He was not much of a partier, not even in his youth. In fact, much of the Conway-Johnson clan was not one to enjoy heavy drinking. Maybe Christmas or New Year's, but few other moments even led to the entire family gathering together. Perhaps it was that Western workhorse attitude. Perhaps it was because they never had slaves to do their jobs for them. Everything the family had accomplished was from hard work, from hard fought elections and building. That was probably enough mind wandering for today thought James, immediately tuning back into the conversation to avoid fueling his own dislike of the Southern system. While hardly the highest ranking noble at the banquet, he drew a small crowd mostly by his own title as a Duke of an entire former state and the mystery that shrouded the Conway-Johnsons. As they spoke of the new Emperor's potential future plans and debating between their different hearsay about what he intended to do, James' eye settled on the man himself.
It was at that moment that the scene unfolded, with a man telling the Emperor of news and his subsequent collapse. James immediately stood, not necessarily out of a desire to help but to see better what had happened. The room seemed to explode into a frenzy, as the nobility rushed to his aid and the old Stonewall Jackson swiftly commanded orders to the messenger. James was not entirely sure of what had occurred but he looked around, trying to find his more boisterous uncle and his nephew, a pair who often accompanied him on these diplomatic matters. As he saw women enter to care for the emperor, James began to hear the rather obvious whisperings of an attack on the Southern defenses and the severing of railroads from the rest of the guests. He immediately sought to find his guests, immediately worried of what such an attack could mean, an emboldened resistance? A revolt? A Union-sponsored attack? And while he had never given it much thought, James' mind raced of his own security. Unlike many other nobility, he rarely travelled with any armed guard. Not that he was ever unarmed but he was hardly protected when compared to others of his rank. Pushing the thoughts away and hearing the old General's statement, James sighed and ran his hand through his hair.
Council Chamber
BILTMORE PALACE
James entered the room, reviewing the room. Given the shroud of mystery that Arkansas often resided in and their largely autonomous role in the greater Southern way of things, he knew very few of the nobles close outside of the Texans and Louisianians. And even then, his father had known them better. As he listened to the General rattle off with the Duke of Charleston and Viscount of Petersburg speak too, he stayed quiet. Already, he could where this could go, a summons for troops and garrisons across the South. And while Arkansas held very few regiments, the Family had made quick work in devising a militia initiative if there was ever a need to raise a larger Arkansawyer force. But he already was careful to even reveal that, not wanting to send any of his own people to die for insurrections a state and half away. Even if the railroads connecting Little Rock and Tennessee would likely help them reach these positions quickly. So James simply listened for now.
Posted:
Sat Apr 25, 2020 1:58 am
by Dahyan
Washington Carroll Tevis
Special Agent in service of Governor Knight
West Virginia, January 1877Crossing the state border between Maryland and West Virginia, a well-groomed man looked at the Appalachian mountain ranges ahead.
Though his facial hair was styled as befitting the gallant cavalryman that he was, and his features would be considered quite handsome by many a dame, his eyes and general demeanour revealed a rough and storied life.
It was Washington Carroll Tevis, also known as Charles Carroll de Taillevis, also known as Nassim Bey. It depended on who you asked, and where you were asking.
A Catholic of Irish descent born in Philadelphia, Tevis had spent much of his life abroad, as a soldier of fortune. Traveling the world and offering his considerable services to whomever he thought worthy of serving.
A West Point graduate and up and coming career soldier in the US cavalry, he had instead opted for adventure, and joined the Ottoman army. Leading a force of irregular Bashi-bazouk forces in the Crimean War, Tevis made a great impression on the Turks. His successes as a cavalrist and commandera gained him the tank of Lieutenant Colonel in the Ottoman military, as well as three military decorations from the Sultan.
Returning to the US in 1859, Tevis eloped with and married the daughter of a wealthy Philadelphia family and rejoined the US army with the rank of Colonel. In the Civil War, he had commanded the 4th Delaware Volunteer Infantry, and inflicted heavy damage on Confederate supply routes through his daring raids.
It was the war that brought him to Maryland. In 1863 he was appointed to lead the 3rd Maryland Volunteer Cavalry, a unit entirely composed of "galvanized Yankees": Confederate prisoners of war who had agreed to join the Union army. These tough and loyal forces, often greatly disillusioned by the true face of the Confederacy, served under him with incredible tenacity and fierce resolve.
It was with the 4th Cavalry that Tevis was also in charge of peacekeeping and anti-espionage operations in Maryland. And it was here he had cracked down ruthlessly on Confederate sympathizers, including Copperhead Democrats. Tevis had overplayed his hand when he issued an official proclamation stating that only a vote for the Unconditional Union Party was a morally right decision, and had even arrested several Democrat candidates. The Union military brass had Tevis arrested for the interference in the democratic process of the state, but he had never apologized for what he considered both necessary and morally just.
When the war ended, the Pennsylvanian was approached by the Irish republican freedom fighters of the Fenian Brotherhood. As Adjudant General of the Brotherhood, Tevis helped the Fenians procure large amounts of weaponry which were used in Irish attacks on British positions up in Canada. Following this, Tevis served as a private in the Papal Zouaves and advocate of the cause of the Papal States, for which he was elevated to the rank of Count by the Pope himself.
When the Franco-Prussian War broke out, Washington Tevis served in the armies of Napoleon III as a Brigadier General, and was wounded in battle against the Germans. Though the French Empire lost the war, Tevis was rewarded with French citizenship and membership of the Legion of Honour. Subsequently, he was summoned by US advisors to the Khedive of Egypt to head the Military Engineering School in the country, which he did successfully until 1873.
The famed and hardy war veteran eventually made his way back home and took up journalism in Philadelphia and New York. Until Newton Knight, famous anti-Confederate guerilla leader and newly elected Governor of Maryland, reached out to him. Ever since, Washington Carroll Tevis had been a special agent on the payroll of the Radical Republican governor, dealing with threats from Confederate agents and spies, as well as aiding escaped slaves and political dissidents trying to reach the North. Reliable, efficient and discrete, Tevis was the ideal person for ensuring the security of the frontier state.
Today, Knight had entrusted him with a highly confidential assignment: making contact with the Appalachian Partisan Rifles, and try to establish a form of cooperation between Maryland and the Unionists bushwhackers of Benedict Church.
The only issue now was finding where the hell they were. Tevis suspected that the best way to get to them, was by accessing the Appalachian mountain ranges through the Union state of West Virginia, and of necessary attempt to sneak into Imperial territory that way. He had no idea where the Partisans may be holed up, of course. That's why Nassim Bey was not out here planning to find them at all. The plan was to let the guerrillas find him.
Picking up the pace, Tevis continued along the road south-west. Destination: the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Posted:
Sat Apr 25, 2020 11:47 am
by Cylarn
Benedict "Ben" Church
Appalachian Partisan Rifles
Fort Joara, Burke County, North Carolina
Morning, January 1877
One Day following Church's Ride
Church's Ride. That was the immortalization of the recent action of the Appalachian Partisan Rifles, courtesy of Unionists statewide. Within a day of the attack, newsprint began to circulate, detailing the story of the three-pronged attack. Depending on what town or city you were in at the time, the details tended to change. The Salisbury Post made a claim that Partisans had taken over Price completely, and had five-thousand men at the ready, supported by twice as many Federal troops, ready to besiege Asheville. By contrast, the Charlotte Observer significantly downplayed the attack, claiming that Imperial recruits had repulsed the attack on Camp Price. Unionists across the state celebrated, while the aristocrats grew livid with the severing of the rail. Most papers, however, gave a grim forewarning: the Partisans were in Buncombe County, and they meant business.
The reality of the matter was much more practical. Casualties at Camp Price approached two-hundred dead, fifty recruits seriously injured and unfit for further service, and a hundred men injured but otherwise fit for service following recuperation. One-third of the barracks encampments had been razed by fire or trampling. Following the completion of their objectives, the Partisans had regrouped east of Asheville and fled Buncombe County prior to the mobilization of Imperial forces. They rode much through the nightand covered the Pisgah and the Eastern Blue Ridge, arriving back within their territory of the Gorge before the sun had a chance to rise. The "strategic assumption" was that Buncombe County and Western North Carolina would be locked down quickly by an Imperial mobilization; thus continued operations in the face of such saturation would only lead to unnecessary casualties. Instead, it was much more effective to inspire sympathizers in the region to spread disinformation about their whereabouts, or what they had done. The Unionist passions of Western North Carolina were becoming reignited.
In the short time he had left his area of control, his faction had grown significantly. A hundred-fifty recruits had been marched from Wilkesboro into the Gorge, while the forces present set about hunkering down and establishing preparations in the face of an eventual Imperial incursion. Fortifications of earth and wood and stone had been erected in the hills surrounding the gorge; caverns had been strong-pointed with crates and firing positions, with further excavation providing decent housing space for noncombatants. Even with what little artillery the Partisans possessed, they had managed to use their guns in such a way to provide coverage over the several presumptive entry points suitable for a large Imperial punitive expedition.
Fort Joara, located deep in the Pisgah to the northwest of Morganton, was likely the most ambitious of the Partisan fortifications. Once home to one of the largest and oldest indigenous settlements in North America, only a scattering of crumbling huts remain of Joara. The remnants of a Spanish fort, however, were a relic once-thought to be lost. Ben had learned of Joara from the Cherokee riding in his service, but had long-neglected to use the site. It was just before departing for Asheville, that he tasked one Captain Carl Kramer to oversee a surveying operation of the site.
Captain Kramer had done much more than intended. Ben found himself amid a wide open bay, surrounded by the beginnings of a reinforced wall of wood and earth and quarried stone surrounding the complex in a square. The wall was hardly five feet, but over a hundred Partisans and half as many civilians labored in the mud and snow, or hauled in freshly-cut lumber to serve as supports or as twenty-foot-high guide posts for the wall. Gates were being erected, as were the beginnings of rudimentary structures. Carriages brought in raw materials such as mortar and quarried stone. Ben ambled through as his men labored on the fortifications.
Atop a high parapet that had been finished, Ben saw Kramer perched above the construction, himself operating a surveying lever to ensure that the posts for the wall were evenly placed. Three freedmen worked around him, placing stones to complete the structure. The Vermonter, drawn to the Partisans by his own disappointment at missing out on the war at large due to age and education, was clad much less than his Southern counterparts. An unbuttoned Union officer's blouse served as his jacket, and he wore a black wool cap on his head. He did not appear to be affected by the cold much. Down below, a group of Partisans held up the posts as others filled in the dirt around the five-foot-deep holes in which the tall, heavy posts were placed. A combination of ropes, pulleys, manpower, and horsepower was key in raising them up and setting them properly. Across the way, another Partisan stood atop a ramshackle, temporary wooden platform at the other end of the poles, operating a similar level.
Ben climbed atop the parapet and stood a short distance from Kramer. He crossed his arms in response to the temperature dropping three degrees from a mere climb. The younger officer raised his left hand and waved slightly to the left; the poles tilted somewhat. Motioning back towards himself, the poles were around shifted in the favor of Kramer.
"Hold it there and fill it in!" Kramer shouted in a Yankee dialect seldom heard in this area of the Appalachian Mountains. He pulled himself away from the level and reached down to grab a coil of rope. He took a few paces to the edge of the parapet, handing the end of the rope to a civilian worker down below, who then strung the rope along the posts, all the way to the surveyor on the platform. The two men held the rope taunt, as workers below hammered it into the posts. A signal of thumbs-up signaled that the rope was secured, and Kramer released it.
"I see you've been busy, Captain," Ben said, giving a chuckle as he took a few steps forward. The two men delivered firm handshakes, and made eye contact.
"We surveyed, and figured it wasn't worth letting to waste with time. The Cherokee were a big help; they've given me permission to build redoubts around here once we get this done."
"And the whole Gorge is getting forted up, since we've been gone."
Kramer nodded in affirmation, his attention turning to the workers below. Ben approached closer to the edge, taking the opportunity to look out into the valley.
"The Watauga Council convened last night, sir," Kramer began, recounting some new information. "Dooley, Johnson, and Gallagher and I rode to Wilkesboro, over to the Hanging Tree Tavern. The raids hit the wire quicker than you'd believe, so there has been fuss."
Ben fired up a cigarette, and exhaled a cloud of smoke. Military and politics; both volatile substances that seemed to both mix and repel one another. While he knew of other independent bushwhackers who rejected the notion of supporting a government, Ben felt strongly that the Watauga Council, a group of prominent, educated men spread through the major towns, was an organization worthy to represent the collective interests of their area. They bickered and argued, sometimes about current issues and much about petty squabbles. Some downright opposed the Partisans serving as the military arm of the Council. Ben did his best to appease all sides, but with the recent escalation, there was now room for a debate on the subject of an official secession.
"Aye, and what was said?"
"Reverend Endicott is forcing another meeting tonight, this time with your attendance mandatory. He mentioned a development with the border government in Maryland. As for the raid, half of the Council is fired up for war, a quarter want you sacked, and then the rest are undecided."
Endicott was a good man, a congregation leader of the Society of Friends, and a long-time Abolitionist. While technically the Chaplain of the Council, his word held a lot of sway throughout the region, and his unhindered Eastward travels often brought the Partisans a boon in intelligence. He also had a nasty habit of appearing seemingly out of thin air, and it was a surprise to no one that Kramer and Ben almost jumped from their skins when Endicott, who had arrived unseen, joined them on the roof with a hearty "good morning, my fellows!"
"God damnit!" Ben shouted, almost falling off the edge. Endicott covered his mouth in shock.
"I am sorry to have startled you, my son," the Quaker said remorsefully.
"It's quite alright, sir," Kramer spoke. Ben lowered his guard, sticking his hands into his pockets as Endicott joined the conversation. The Quaker minister was glad in a long black cassock and black overcoat to keep out the cold, and his wide-brimmed black preachers' hat was lightly covered with fresh white snow.
"In any case, it is good to see you again, Ben. I trust your ride was a hale one? You seem to be back quicker than expected."
Ben nodded to the affirmative. "It's good to be back."
"I thought you were simply going to rob a bank in town and blow one railway. We did not expect you to sever Asheville by the rail on both sides."
The Quaker's voice suddenly turned grim. "I also did not expect from you the kind of barbarity carried out in Shufordsville, Ben."
Ben stared out towards the expanse of Pisgah, frowning. The minister was correct in that observation; the raid on Camp Price had been an unnecessary bloodbath. Kramer spoke up.
"Is it true that Brown led the attack?" Kramer asked his commander, who responded by suddenly turning around. He showed a slight bit of emotion in his eyes. Brown was a good fighter and leader, but devoid of much empathy. He loved very few people in the world, and felt little need to hunt for it.
"I have not yet talked to Brown," Ben admitted. "Walsh told me the course of the engagement."
"That was no 'engagement', Ben," Endicott interjected. "That was murder, Ben. I learned that most of those killed or maimed, or scorched by the great blaze he created, were not older than twenty-five. Brown slaughtered young men-"
"Fine young men, they would be if they hadn't picked the wrong side!" Brown shouted bluntly from down amid the construction, having overhead much of the exchange. "This is a fucking war, Reverend Endicott."
The Quaker minister stepped forward, glaring down at the former cavalryman. "You were brought up in the Faith, Dean Brown. War has robbed you of your humanity. I urge you to find some atonement for what you have done "
Brown responded by spitting a wad of chewing tobacco onto the mud. "Anyways, now that we've had that chat, I think Ben would like to know about the gund moving along the rail to Asheville."
Endicott raised an eyebrow. Somehow, he knew what the Partisan was bringing up. "Huh, you're talking about the train coming from Wilmington, eh?"
Brown nodded to the Reverend. "You know the one, and I won't ask how. From what I've gathered in Morganton, is that it's got three twelve-pounders on it, along with two twenty-pounder Parrots. They've also got Gatlings."
"Wouldn't hurt to get more artillery, especially here," said Kramer. "Most of what we have - the howitzers and the Gatlings - is out in the Gorge."
Kramer had a point; the Partisans would need more ordnance.
"Should be in after supper, and it's passing on through to Asheville," Brown said. "Give me twenty men and ten wagons, and we'll get the guns."
Ben frowned. Ten wagons was a lot of presence for the Partisans. Brown's column would be encumbered to such a degree that wild escapes off the beaten path were impossible.
"That's a serious risk, Brown," Ben stated. "I'm not sure I want to chance it."
"It's Morganton. Most folk there are either on our side, or locking themselves indoors out of fear of the crazies at the Braughton Nut House. Wouldn't be hard to way-lay the engine in town, storm it, and ride off with the guns."
Ben thought for a moment. "Fine. Take twenty of your men into Morganton."
"Send one of your men to Doctor Spake's, over by the Baptist Church," Endicott said. "He is one of us Red-Strings, and to be considered a friend. He may be able to assist you with the train."
Brown nodded, and quickly departed without a single word.
"I can't get rid of him, Reverend. I understand your reservations, but I can't spare him if I'm to take Jackson on."
"Aye, Ben."
"Reverend, what about the meeting tonight?" Kramer asked, as a way of reminding the older Reverend of what he had previously brought up. Endicott nodded.
"Ben, the Council is reconvening tonight on my request. I believe that you are owed the right to explain the action in Buncombe, in your own words."
"Reverend, the Council is aware that I have purview over military matters related to Appalachia. We do predate the Council, and we've shown more concrete evidence of Appalachian resistance to the people of this region. I may possess respect for your body, but I cannot guarantee that everyone in my stead respects the body as much as I do."
The minister shook his head, as if being challenged. He locked eyes with Ben, the mood growing suddenly tense.
"Ben, we are considered to be a successor of the Association. Do not forget that. You signed the Charter, as we all did. But some fear you're leading them into a war that we can't win."
"I can't say that we haven't been at war, Reverend. I've been at war for damn near twenty years now. The conflict's been ongoing, and with the death of the Emperor, the Coronation of a boy made completely flammable by the amount of booze he swigs, and the clipping of Asheville's wings, it's high time we escalate things."
Endicott sighed. "I won't pry more, lest I spoil the surprise. Say it all tonight. And on another note, a Friend-of-a-Friend in Salem has learned of Federal interest in your endeavors. Supposedly, agents will be seeking you out."
Federal involvement. The support would surely make their case valid; with Federal assistance, the old Watauga Association would be reborn as the State of Appalachia. "May you arrange for your Friends to assist us in making contact with said Federals?"
"I will try, Ben. Be well, my friend."
With that, Endicott departed, with his mission at hand. Ben also made his departure, taking a series of old hunting trails through the Pisgah on an easterly path towards the city of Wilkesboro. His ranks are swelling; pretty soon, the Partisans would be much more than a simple guerrilla army. A conventional campaign was on the rise. Statehood was on the horizon, for Appalachia.
A chance meeting between Nassim Bey and Reverend Thomas Endicott
At the Hanging Tree Tavern
Wilkesboro, North Carolina
Early Evening, January 1877
A flurry of snow and cold wind followed Thomas Endicott as he entered the tavern, face wrapped with a white scarf to rebuff the chilling temperatures. There were quite a number of patrons in the bar that night. A short, bald fat man worked the counter, wiping the inside of a glass and giving a respectful nod to the pastor. Endicott responded by removing his hat with a gesture of greeting to the bartender. His hair, long grayish-white and pulled into a ponytail, was allowed to roam free.
"I hope you are well, Bradford," Endicott said aloud as he wrestled free of his overcoat. An attendant, a young white boy, took his coat.
"It's good to see you, Reverend Endicott," Bradford replied. "The usual?"
"That would be most appreciated. I shall find a table."
Endicott departed the front, and began to make his way through the tavern. Many people drank by the bar, and others enjoyed warm meals and conversations at their tables. In the very back, a piano and fiddle accompanied one another in providing vital ambient Appalachian tunes. Most of the patrons greeted Endicott as he passed by, and he returned the greetings as they came. From Asheville to Wilmington, Thomas Endicott was a known figure.
As a devout Quaker, Thomas led the local Wilkesboro congregation, and served as a leader with the state Quaker community. A well-read theologian, he was respected by Union and Confederate alike, and he himself counted many friends in the officer corps of both nations. Consequently, Endicott was also one of the greatest spymasters of the state; he traveled greatly, had many friends from which to gather the local flavor, and remembered much. Six generations of Endicott men had fought for what they believed in, all without raising a weapon. Endicott supported Appalachian/Wataugan secession greatly; not by brandishment of arms, but by granting information to those that could greatly use it.
Many knew this, as did a blonde-haired serving woman who took Endicott by the arm as he passed by her. He stopped accordingly, and she pulled in close to his ear.
"There's a Yankee here. Just got in," she said in a hushed tone. "Left of the piano. Got his own table."
Endicott peered through the audience. Indeed, he spotted a martial-looking fellow sitting alone amid the carnage of social interaction. Endicott blinked, as if he did not register what he was seeing completely. Hassim Bey.
"Thank you, my child," Endicott replied. "Would you bring my coffee and porridge by that table? I shall join him."
The serving woman nodded, and released Endicott. He was somewhat surprised to see the man in Wilkesboro. He wasn't exactly incognito; Endicott had read of him in his travels. A soldier of fortune, Union war hero, and known Papist. Regardless, he proceeded onward. Colonel Tevis was in North Carolina for a reason. Endicott suspected that he intended to make his name with the Partisans.
Thus, he had to know more about his intentions, and Endicott saw no other recourse than to speak with the man directly. Without asking and without the permission of the soldier, Endicott took the seat across from Tevis and sat his hat in front of him. He gave a warm smile, and clasped his hands before him.
"I hope the mountains are treating you nicely," he said. "My name is Reverend Thomas Endicott."