The life and Times of Maks Part 1

Walter Buttler’s Dragoons

 

I, Maksamyllyan Wulfrum von Schleuter, was born in the ruined town of Schleuter, Royal Prussia, 
just before the turn of our sad century. My father had wasted what was left of the estate on wise womens, strange books and alchemy. I left for
England, the land of my mother and her universities. All went 
well until a duel ended in a rapier in a duke’s son’s death. Luckily he was a bastard son, so the ports 
were clear to sail for a Royal Prussia even more devastated by war. The Swedes were ravaging my 
home lands again. One of the few groups really doing anything to stem this flood of death were the Lisowczyks, although to be fair they too tuned a tide of blood, not always of the enemy! I had not 
the funds to buy my commission with the Hussaria, nor even the dragoons, so they were my only 
option. I fought my way up the ranks, became hardened to the darkness of war, and those who must 
live or die from the land. One small light was the friendship of of a fellow son of the commonwealth, 
Andrzej Kmicic.

 

After the wars of the Dymitriad and even new horrors, we moved into the service of the Imperial 
armies fighting the Protestant Bohemians. At the battle of
White Mountain we came into contact 
with a troop known as Walter Buttler’s Dragoons.

The colonel, Buttler, was of Irish decent, but born within the commonwealth, was amiable to a few 
of us joining, those with the gold to pay for commissions that is. With this troop war became a most 
profitable trade; soon I was Rittmeister then even Major. I took my place in the regrettable death of Wallenstein. I say regrettable for I now know a wider story.

 

The stories of skirmishes against Swedes, Rebel Germans and most of all, when they joined in the 
wars, the French, are stuff of many a camp fire story. It was in
France that my time came with Walter’s 
troops came to an end. Deep in French territory Andrzej and I came upon a carriage with a fat French 
marquees and a dowry chest of gold. After loosing the rest of the troop, these two made for the Dutch 
border where they were captured by a Croat, or French Kozak troop headed by a Polish Noble by the 
name of Bohdan Khmelnitsky. They bought their way to a parole and an end to their war… in the West.

For the rest of the story see Kozaky

[Back]