By Eric Flint
FREEDOM AND JUSTICE -- AMERICAN type
1632 And in northern Germany issues couldn't get a lot worse. Famine. disorder. Religous struggle laying waste the towns. merely the aristocrats remained really unscathed; for the peasants, dying used to be a mercy.
2000 issues are going okay in Grantville, West Virginia, and everyone attending the marriage of Mike Stearn's sister (including the whole neighborhood bankruptcy of the United Mine staff of the United States, which Mike leads) is having a great time.
THEN, every thing CHANGED....
while the airborne dirt and dust settles, Mike leads a bunch of armed miners to determine what occurred and unearths the line into city is lower, as with a sword. at the different part, a scene out of Hell: a guy nailed to a farmhouse door, his spouse and daughter attacked by means of males in metal vests. confronted with this, Mike and his associates don't need to ask who to shoot. At that second Freedom and Justice, American type, are brought to the center of the Thirty Years' warfare.
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Additional info for 1632 (The Assiti Shards, Book 1)
At this point Gabriel's glory fades, he forfeits my interest. In the beginning a dark stranger appearing out of the south, touched with the magic of death and dreams, now he becomes merely another squire and country gent, a name in a parish register, a part of the past. Who was he? I do not know. I am not saying that I have no opinions, I have, but I keep them to myself, for reasons not entirely clear. The Lawlesses, Joseph's brothers, fought for Birchwood, and what with the legal tangles, and the peculiarities of the will, not to mention the unshakeable faith in perfidy which there was on both sides, the fight was long and dirty in the extreme.
A trick, sir, another of their tricks! Joseph roared. Indeed he was right, was Joseph, for the peasants were a tricky lot, they died by the score, thereby forcing the authorities across the sea to send in a relief shipment of six sacks of Indian corn. The estate was in ruin, bled white by agents and gombeen men. The land had been hacked into tiny holdings where the tenants were strangling the soil to death in their frantic efforts to meet the rents and feed their annually expanding families. All that was to change.
She cried out softly under his thrusts, and, as I watched, a delicate arc of briar beside them, caught by a stray breeze, sprang up suddenly into the air, where two butterflies were gravely dancing. Lift your head! Look! The mirror's pale, unwavering, utterly silent gaze sent something like a deep black note booming through the wood's limpid song, and I felt, what shall I say, that I had discovered something awful and exquisite, of immense, unshakeable calm. I wandered farther then, by unknown ways, and soon I heard Mama's voice hallooing here and there, each cry a little closer.
1632 (The Assiti Shards, Book 1) by Eric Flint