The Three Years' War: Book the First

==Author’s Note==
It has become an urge of mine to create yet another historical fiction drama for the publishing company of mine. I have lost inspiration for my former dystopian novella, The Dull Despot - and have found inspiration in a new storyline. For those who were enthusiastic about the Dull Despot, I apologize.
The storyline of this series is sure to exceed my prior works of Invasion of Ireland and Eye of the Lion. Eye of the Lion was much more underdeveloped than the planned work, whilst Invasion of Ireland offered no "spice".
I hope this new series is enjoyable to all, and precedes itself well.
==Preface==
It was in the year of the Lord, Seventeen-Hundred and Forty-Two that two extraordinary events occurred. First, in a stroke of cunning leadership, Spain managed to capture Portugal during the War of Spanish Aggression, and push Britain out of France, resulting in the bloodiest year of the War. Second, a British student graduated from Cambridge University, who would soon join the army, and ensure the first major win of the Three Years’ War.
These events are forever intertwined, and thus, more important than they would have been if separate. Their twist together would affect the Age of Empires, like no other, thus it is a story of greats, as it is our own. 
==Part One==
===Chapter One: Chamberlain October 1746===
THE PALE DAWN light had begun to peek through the cloudy heavens. A figure moved through the fog. The shadow stopped at a chipped white fence. The tired brown eyes examined the field before him. One hundred acres. Newly bought. All his. A slight smile formed on the man’s lips as he reminisced the wonderful deal he had purchased the land for.
From the mist another figure formed, this one with the face of a younger man, perhaps in his early twenties. He moved toward the taller figure before speaking,
"Brother, may I join you?"
"Of course William. It's always pleasurable to have company,"
"I heard word that relations with the Francos has worsened," 
The first figure offered no reply. William stood for a moment, before turning to face the fields. He decided that his brother was immersed in thought, and should not be disturbed.
"I shall leave you then. See you at supper." 
There still came no reply. William turned and walked off. He dreamed of volunteering in the army, should a draft come. Hopefully, he wished, diplomatic solutions would fail. Little did he know that what he wished for would devour Europe in a blazing inferno.
Back at the fence, the figure now turned and watched his chestnut mare flick her tail. He looked down at his clothes, always dirtied within two days. He was not a farmer. For some reason, he could not bring himself to purchase farmer clothing. He instead used old suits that did not favor him much. 
He came from a family of wealth. A very influential family no less. The Chamberlains of Liverpool remained the dominant aristocrats in society there. He was the eldest of their sons, Thomas Chamberlain, heir to the Chamberlain Estate. He was in the thirtieth year of age, a stout man, with a tall stature. He was rather picturesque. Brown hair with similarly colored eyes. A mustache crossed his face, and was also brown. He had attended Cambridge College, were he graduated top of his class in Military Strategy. But he had not joined the army. He had been requested by his father to work on the estate, that was soon to be his. That was five years ago.
Chamberlain rode back through the silence. When he arrived at the house, his brother greeted him.
"Tom, a letter arrived from the Ministry of Warfare, imagine that!"
"A letter you say? Let me read it," William handed Thomas the letter, and the latter proceeded to read it aloud,
"To Thomas Chamberlain of Liverpool, Graduate of Cambridge Art of War Class of Seventeen Forty-Two: You have been requested to present for service in the Armed Forces of his Majesty, with the rank of Major and a weekly pay of two hundred shillings. This offer shall be valid until the Third of December in the year of the Lord Seventeen Forty-Six. With regards, Director of Drafting, Isaac Davensport." 
A smile occupied Thomas' face. William stood by reading the letter over his shoulder. Thomas knew that William had wished to see his older brother as a soldier in the Army of his Majesty. Now was a chance.
"You shall accept, I hope?"
"Of course I shall. This is a stroke of luck, which I must not ignore." Thomas pocketed the letter and motioned to William. 
"I shall reveal the news at breakfast," With that, the soon to-be Major fled up the stairs into his room. 
===Chapter Two: Wellington December 1746===
FIELD MARSHAL WELLINGTON observed the stack of papers on his desk. He knew affairs were worsening. The Western Holy Alliance had become increasingly hostile toward Britain and its closest ally, The Scandinavian Union. He picked up a letter addressed 'List of Officers Drafted by County'. So Carteret had ordered the draft to begin. Wellington had not been informed, perhaps due to his unwillingness to many of Carteret's plans. He looked at the middle of the page, 'Thomas Chamberlain/Liverpool. Thirty years. Drafted as Major.' The Chamberlains were, if the Marshal was correct, an influential family with a large estate. "Are they just picking nobles to become officers?" Then he recalled a member of the family in attendance to Cambridge as a Military Strategist. "Cheers to them then." He heard a knock at the door.
"Field Marshal! Lord Carteret requests your presence in his office most urgently!" Wellington peered at the young Major,
"For what reason?"
"Lord Carteret did not specify. I was told to bring you right away,"
"Very well then. Let us go."
Carteret's office was twice as big as Wellington's. The Field Marshal sat with Admiral of the Fleet, Arthur Richmond for a while before Lord Carteret finally appeared. 
"Gentlemen, welcome. I apologize for bringing you here without specifying my intention,"
"There is no issue, Minister," 
Wellington peeked at Richmond. He knew that Carteret and he were good friends.
"We seem to have a dilemma before us. Prussia has seceded to France. Scandinavia is most concerned - especially with their interests in Denmark. I have begun a draft in both of your branches for officers. Today we must begin a draft for soldiers. I want ten Field Armies. Pick commanders. As for you, Richmond, you need 5 additional fleets to assist the ones we already have."
"Understood, Minister."
"Be sure that you pick able commanders. Each Field army shall command a specific theater of the upcoming war,"
"Upcoming war?"
"Yes. I perceive the secede of Prussia as the first step in the Holy Powers' attempt to destroy England. I must go now, I have a meeting with Pelham soon. Good luck Gentlemen." Wellington bowed to the Minister, then saluted to the Admiral before exiting the office.
===Chapter Three: Shaw December 1746===
AWAKENED BY A faint rapping at his door, Lieutenant General Robert Shaw looked up from his essay on Machiavelli's 'The Prince'. Major Harrison Rathword, Shaw's aide appeared before him carrying a letter.
"Bring it here," Shaw dismissed Rathword and read over the letter. It was Wellington's signature. He had signed promotion papers for a rise to General. Shaw read over the letter again. He was to report for command of the newly formed 6th Field Army. He would be posted to Army Reserve in Manchester. 'Finally, a chance to get out of this damn desk job,' he thought to himself. He wondered briefly who his officers would be. He looked back at the letter. 'Officer at Arms: Brigadier General Jacob Lockwood'. Lockwood. He had not met the Brigadier, but knew he was able. Young too. Only twenty-nine. He called Major Rathword to send a letter to Lockwood, then locked up his office and headed towards The Raj, a tea shop where he was to meet Field Marshal Wellington.
Shaw arrived before Wellington, and decided to treat himself to a cup of tea. He marvelled at the sheer exocticy of the drink, and imagined himself as one of the brave pioneer soldiers in the vast continent of India. The voice of a man with excellent King’s English broke Shaw’s trance. He looked up to see the Field Marshal standing before him, tall and crisp. He wore the uniform of a Welsh politician, and a trim and tidy wig. Shaw saluted, and the Marshal returned the gesture.
“Sir, an honor to see you today,”
“The honor is mine, General,” Wellington hinted the promotion,
“I thank you for your choice, Marshal,”
“A better choice I could not have found. I trust you will serve well? We are commissioning 10 Field Armies. That brings us to 12. Imagine that. That’s 9 million soldiers. But imagine the axis. At least 5 million french soldiers have enlisted. And the Spaniards? By god they must’ve amassed 4 million, even with Phillippe the Fifth’s campaigns wrecking their armed forces for years. A force quite as large as ours. Plus they’ve got the Prussians with them, which have listed 7 million men. Portugal donated 200,000,” at this Wellington scoffed, “the genteel beings they are. But we have the Scandinavian Union on our side, they have 3 million men, but tough are the lot of them, all under that brilliant strategist, Seskavel. He could take on the French alone!” Shaw took this in, then looked quizzically at the Field Marshal,
“The Prussians? I thought they were remaining neutral?”
“They were, but apparently Old Fritz has had a change of mind,”
“I see,” Shaw looked down for a minute, and the conversation abruptly halted.
“I thank you for meeting with me, Marshal. I am terribly sorry, but I must withdraw to meet Lockwood,”
“Ah yes, I personally chose Lockwood for you. I thought it would be a nice fit. Cheers then, General,” The Field Marshal stood once more, saluted, and retreated from the tea house. Shaw was left alone in his thoughts.
He sat for a moment, pondering on the threatening thought of yet another hostile nation. “Pretty soon it shall be the Central European Empire,” Shaw reflected. He then placed a tip on the table, and exited the tea house as well. It was time to meet his second-in-command.
===Chapter Four: Chamberlain December 1746===
THE NEWLY CHRISTENED Major walked through the bustling Fort Bradbury. He was one his way to meet the fort’s commander, who would choose his regiment. He moved into the Fort Headquarters, and ascended the elegant stairs to the commanders office. He nodded to the guards standing outside, and knocked on the door. A stout voice answered for the Major to enter. The aspiring officer opened the door, shut it behind him, and saluted to the General.
“Welcome, Major. I am Brigadier General Charles Birdsall. I’ve been informed that I am to place you in a regiment?” The Major looked up at the General,
“Yes sir. I’m Chamberlain sir,”
“Very good. Today is your lucky day, Major. There seems to be no ranking officer in the Twentieth Regiment of Foot. I have picked you to serve as temporary C.O. until a Colonel or Lieutenant Colonel can be chosen. Think you’re up for it?”
“Of course, General. I have just gotten in from Liverpool. This shall be my first assignment,” Chamberlain observed the General. He was a Scottish man, quite tall, with red hair tied back into a ponytail - “Strange,” Chamberlain thought. Generals almost always wore a powdered white wig. “Using his own hair as a lower officer would do.”
Birdsall finished the paperwork and stood,
“Major, your paperwork is done. You are officially transferred to the 20th Regiment of Foot. They are based in the West Wing of the fort. Good luck meeting your new men, Major,”
“Thank you, General,” Chamberlain saluted and left the office. It was time to meet his men.
:::::::::::: ~~
Chamberlain flung the great steel doors of the West Wing open. Men were spread out through the great hall, many in small groups talking. Others were writing letters, and another group of about ten were arguing unintelligible terms. A shorter man, around 1 and a half metres, with thick balding hair, and large sideburns appeared before him,
"Sir! Wish to present! Colour Sergeant Davis McLaws, sir. Will you be joining us, sir?" Chamberlain nods and salutes,
"Major Thomas Chamberlain, temporary Commanding Officer of the Twentieth Regiment," Chamberlain looks over the room again, and inquires,
"Are all these men apart of the Twentieth?"
"Indeed sir, I'll call them to attention," McLaws turns to the busy crowd and stands on a table,
“Regiment present for the Commanding Officer!” The room instantly goes quiet. Men look over the newcomer who address’ them,
“Hello. I am Major Thomas Chamberlain. I’ll be commanding you boys until a Colonel comes along,” Several men salute back to Chamberlain. He stands for a moment looking over the men, then utters his first order,
“Alright, as you were. I’ll be back later, and we can all get acquainted.
McLaws motions to a flight of stairs on the side of the hall,
“This way, sir. Officers Quarters are up here.” Chamberlain nods, and follows McLaws. After ascending the stairs, they face a door. McLaws knocks twice, then opens it. Chamberlain walks into a large room, with multiple beds and chests next to them. There are two doors within the room, and McLaws leads Chamberlain to one,
“This is the Commanding Officer’s Quarters, sir,” McLaws opens the door, and Chamberlain finds himself in a room the size of the former, only with one bed. A large window sits on the wall, and a desk rests against the adjacent wall. There is a closet in the wall next to the door, and a small nightstand.
“I hope it pleases the Major,”
“Yes, its wonderful, thank you. May I inquire where the other door leads?”
“The Offices, sir. Mainly where the officers den,” Chamberlain curtly nods, and indicates he means to go there. McLaws leads him into the adjacent room,
“Sirs, may I present our new Regimental commander, Major Thomas Chamberlain.”
Several men who were playing poker look up. Chamberlain walks in and salutes, and the men all stand up rather boisterously. They salute in unison.
“Sir! Apologies, Major. We were not informed that there was to be a new commander. Allow us to introduce ourselves,” The man speaking is a tall gentlemanly fellow, undoubtedly part Scottish, but with the etiquette of a British nobleman. He introduces himself as Captain Colin Irvine, commander of Company A, and passes to the side, allowing another officer to step forward,
“Captain Liam Byrne’, ser. Command’r o’ Company B, ser. Welcum to thee regiment,” Chamberlain nodded to Byrne.
“Any Majors in this regiment?” Byrne replied,
“Nay ser, jus’ ye, I presume,” Chamberlain took it in, and saluted once more,
“While I’ll be off -” He was cut off by Irvine,
“Would you care to join us, Major?”
“I suppose I can, yes,” The officers make room for Chamberlain and he sits familiarising himself with his new officers. 
==Character Directory ==
Characters revealed as story progresses, in order of appearance
*Colonel Thomas Joshua Chamberlain - Commander of the 20th Regiment of Foot (The Two Tens). 30 years old at the start of the book. Graduated Art of Military Strategy from Cambridge with high honors in 1742. 
*William Chamberlain - Youngest brother of Thomas, looks up to his brother. Wishes to see his brother in the military. 16 years old at the start of the book. 
*Field Marshal Alexander Wellington - Commander-in-Chief of His Majesty's Royal Army. Armchair Commander of the Army in London. Shaw's superior officer.
*General Robert Gould Shaw - Commander of the 6th Field Army. 37 years old at the start of the book. Noted scholar for his works on the Renaissance. 
*Major Harisson Rathword - Aide-de-camp to General Shaw. 
*Frederick II - King of Prussia. Seceded Prussia to the Western Holy Powers at the beginning of the book. Usually called Old Fritz. Armchair commander of the Prussian Army from Berlin, and leaves Minister President Heinrich von Podewils to handle day to day activities. Only mentioned throughout the series. 
*Colour Sergeant Davis McLaws - Flag Bearer of the 20th Regiment. 29 years old at the start of the book. He is short and stout, making him a very indentifiable man on the battlefield.
*Captain Colin Irvine - Commander of Company A in the 20th Regiment. 34 years old at the start of the book. He is part Scottish, but acts like an aristocrat. 
*Captain Liam Byrne - Commander of Company B in the 20th Regiment. 42 years old at the start of the book. He is from Belfast, Ireland, and carries a heavy accent. 
==Dictionary==
Characters in the novel use many different phrases that are sometimes unknown to the reader. All phrases that may not be commonly heard are put here, in order of appearance.
*Francos - The French
*Old Fritz - Frederick II of Prussia
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