Introductions

A most heartfelt welcome to our new recruits; we applaud your efforts to offend (tongue extended), those gentlemen, (sans gentleness or the quality of exhibited manliness, rendering them merely and remarkably as rien) who have spuriously laid claim to our land of liberte, egalite, fraternite.

. . . 1st order of the new brethren of The Infantry, we must put aside worries that our efforts to brandish our unique variety of thievery is merely l'esprit de l'escalier . . .

Rest assured, my dear friends, that our efforts are so overwhelmingly characterised by the notoriety of naughtiness and association with so-called pastimes of eternal damnation and fiery perdition, that our mission shall indubitably cause a plethora of welcome results, videlicet anger, screaming, general unrest, unsightly tears, perspiration, and slew of bitten fists. One of our first circle comrades anticipates vomiting, but we shan't depend on such a congenial result to avoid the potential for impoverishing disappointment among the ranks should we fall short of such a high aspiration.

And now, it is time to familiarize yourself with your new brothers in theft . . .

My name, dear saints, is Aidan Jareth. Ringleader of the Infantry.

The collective. As the inner circle is described, is made up of cinq individus.

Look in the first directive of the recruitment campaign below and you will witness the glory that is the collective of the Infantry. These are your leaders. Your commanders. Your best friends, lovers, and parents. Not literally. It is just that you shall forego all such material attachments from this day forth . . .

From left to right in the picture.

In the back row we have three fine gentleman and upstanding citizens of theft . . .

Etienne Rameau, Gautier D'Alsace, and Frayne Riesling.

In the front from left to right we have two equally fine gentleman and quintessential examples of the nobility of robbery, both highway and petty . . . Don't let the riche baiseurs tell you otherwise

Myself, Aidan Jareth, and my right hand man, though in the picture he is positioned at ma gauche, Thibault Ives.

. . . So welcome all, please take the time to introduce yourselves to us. We appreciate candour and wit, and tales of disruption and recalcitrance.

For now, I must hide . . .

There is lots to be done.

The Call to Arms

Anklets and thieves are no more

Now enters the bravado of the calvary, the journeyed onslaught of the brigade

Here, stands comaraderie and brazen defiance of all things associated with the cousin of sleep

Join the underlings of the misanthropic warbling, planning our thievery on the banks of the Seine, as we toast with glasses of warm Belgian beer to our lost brethren of the Sommes

Perhaps after the subsequent conflicts, narrow escapes, and meager attempts at feeling any semblance of emotion for the cowards we shall kill, we shall dine on Salade Nicoise in the earthy shade of the bowers of the Dordogne canopies, satiate our incorrigible esurience with un croque monsieur, and laugh about the taste of salt on the air

Perhaps dear brothers, mayhaps

Instead, for now, let us dream of tip toeing with the daintiness of Indian Princesses on the collonades of the pulchritudinous sands of Braja, where bovine royalty eke out a path through disloyalty and dismay. Here our thievery shall end, our reformation begins

We shall lie wistfully on the banks of the Yamuna, coddled to sleep by the gentle embrace of her waters

The sky will dapple us with whimpers, and village women will ululate in parade

The Infantry has begun its recruiting. Hold back no longer; here in the gripping coil of adventurous soil and dirt, the sour drop of blood upon your licentious tongue, it is here, O child of Judas, that your dank and angry life begins its first pathetic steps . . .

Join the Infantry.

For the sake of her soul.