>>5387719>>5387724>>5387727>>5387728>>5387789>>5387799Why, you're a cavalryman, of course! A man of your birth and bearing would be ill-suited to the grim, muddy push-of-pike. War is won, as any fool could tell you, by the cavalry - screening the advance and retreat, breaking infantry and musketeers in the charge, and most of all duelling with the opposite horse to win control of the field.
You are, then, the typical cavalier - in years to come your figure will be in printed pamphlets - tall, with long golden hair, dashing moustache, pistol and sword raised upon a rearing charger - cry God! England and St. George!
In the meantime, though, you are confronted by your situation. Good horses are expensive, good horsemen all the moreso, and you have no force at your back to speak of. You sit at your manor in Lyton, on the north coast of Devonshire, shielded by the open expanse of the Exmoor to the south. The King and his main force will be up in Nottingham, Parliament at London. Many of your neighbours are Parliamentary dogs - the towns of Devonshire are stuff-full of puritans. You will find little support here, though not none - and over the border in Cornwall the people are far more loyal to their king.
>What do you do?>Keep quiet - call up your clients, extended family, tenants - buy weapons, horses, armour, and secure the local area - the hundred of Braunton.>Call up whoever you can on short notice- raise a banner for any loyal royalist in Devon, stay as long as you dare, and bolt for Cornwall - where recruiting will be easier. 