Quebec

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The day after the battle, they began loading the prisoners onto ships captured from the enemy. These ships would be sent to France in the coming days.

Since the news of the victory at Louisbourg would take time to reach Europe, the French could pass these ships off as British vessels.

Their destination would be Brest, as they could claim to be heading for the English Channel until the very last moment.

Major General Jeffery Amherst, defeated but still dignified, was brought aboard the HMS Princess Amelia.

Soon, the prisons of Louisbourg were emptied. However, it was neither possible nor of much interest to transport all the prisoners to France. Priority was given to healthy military personnel, starting with the officers.

The wounded and sick were left behind to avoid complications during the long voyage. If they died en route, they could not be exchanged for ransom or for French prisoners held by the English. Worse yet, if they returned dying prisoners to old King George, it might start a vicious cycle of mistreatment, with France receiving back useless human wrecks in return for their own captives!

The port of Louisbourg buzzed with activity. Slowly, in groups of ten, prisoners were led into the depths of these imposing ships and locked up like the worst of criminals. Meanwhile, Louisbourg began to tend its wounds.

There was so much to do that both civilians and soldiers didn't know where to start. It was impossible to allow the brave French soldiers to rest or enjoy any leisure time.

Mainly, they were asked to gather and bring to the main camp anything the enemy had left behind around the city, from Pointe Plate to the lighthouse.

Adam, sent to the other side of the Louisbourg harbor, silently searched a large tent where nearly everything had been left as it was. There was a simple bed, a large travel trunk, a small table, a chair, and a few books. It was as if the owner had just stepped out for a moment and would soon return.

Ah, it feels good to sit down! thought the young man as he tested the modest bed, which was far superior to his meager straw mattress.

His eyes fell on the trunk, and he pulled it towards him. It was made of wood covered in brown canvas, just under a meter long, fifty centimeters wide, and sixty centimeters tall. On either side were large varnished wooden handles and two silver clasps on the front.

CLACK CLACK

He opened it, not expecting to find treasure, and discovered a few clothes and other personal effects. What immediately caught his attention was a long, thick, red-and-gold coat. An officer's coat.

The quality was nothing like his own coat. It was like comparing a small, license-free car to a sleek Ferrari.

I really want to try it on. No one should mind.

He glanced at the entrance of the tent, and seeing no one, he began to take off his white coat. With surprising care, he slipped into the English uniform and stood before a tall mirror on the other side of the bed.

Hmm, too small. The owner must not have been very tall, Adam guessed, stretching his arms out in front of him to see how far the sleeves reached. Yes, far too small. The guy must not have had any muscles.

He immediately took off the coat and examined the label embroidered on the collar. The same name was written on the trunk.

"James Wolfe..."

Never heard of him.

Even though the uniform was very nice, it didn't fit him at all. He felt very cramped in it, but even more so, it was an English uniform. Since arriving in this time, he had learned to deeply despise them.

He carelessly tossed the coat onto the bed and looked at himself again in the mirror, as such opportunities were rare.

He was tall and had a good face. But it was clear this year had taken a toll on him. Despite his young age—he had turned twenty-one during the voyage—he already had a few wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead. His fingers brushed over the long scar above his eye, which disappeared under his nearly red hair.

While he no longer felt any pain, seeing it still gave him a little pang in his heart.

Hmm, let's continue searching this place.

He quickly went through the books, boxes, and suitcases, and when he was done, he loaded all the valuable or useful items into a large cart that was already quite full. As soon as it was filled, they returned to the camp, where a hot meal of thick porridge flavored with rich bacon and an egg was being served.

"François! Over here!"

Adam found his friends near a campfire, close to the artillery and the few horses that had made the journey with them. Unloading them had been quite an adventure, as they had to be hoisted into rowboats and kept still until they reached the pebble beach at Pointe Plate.

"How are you, friends?"

"Doing okay. Just tired. How's your leg?"

"No problem. The wound wasn't deep at all. It's just a bit tender."

"That's good to hear!"

Adam had been wounded the day before, but in the excitement of the moment, he had completely forgotten about it. He had helped dismantle the enemy's camp and reconstruct it in front of Louisbourg before seeing the surgeon. He had waited a long time because his case wasn't considered urgent.

He had stood in a corner for what felt like ages until the man was available to remove the bullet, which he did quite roughly, as if he were extracting a simple splinter from his finger.

While he was enjoying his meal, a young soldier with hair as black as his eyes interrupted them and asked Louis to follow him. What surprised Adam was that Louis did so without protest, and what surprised him even more was Jean's strange reaction.

He had such a peculiar expression on his face that Adam almost burst out laughing, like a child who had eaten a chili pepper thinking it was a very sweet fruit. Despite his questions, the soldier refused to say anything about the matter. All Adam learned was that his name was Pierre.

A little later, the group was interrupted again, this time by Captain Gilbert. He looked a bit better than the previous day, likely thanks to a good night's sleep in something other than a hammock.

"Captain Gilbert? What's going on?"

"Lieutenant Boucher, I've been looking for you everywhere for the past hour, cough, cough! You should be with the company. Anyway, cough, cough, we have new orders."

Immediately, Adam and his friends' faces became serious.

"What's the mission, Captain?"

"His Grace the Marshal wants to send a ship and some men to inform the Governor of New France of our arrival. We must board the Aréthuse immediately."

"Immediately?! Captain, I need a little time!"

"If you had stayed with the men, you would have had an hour to prepare. Now, it's too late. The captain is waiting for us."

Adam let out a discreet sigh and stood up.

"Is it just our company?"

"No, there are seven others, all from the Second Battalion. I've been given command. Come."

"At your orders. Sorry, friends. No choice."

"When you have to go, you have to go," Jules said with sympathy, saluting his friend.

"Good luck!"

"Thanks! Say goodbye to Louis for me!"

Once again, Jean made a strange face, blushing as he imagined what Louis was probably doing with Pierre in some corner of the camp.

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The ship they boarded was light and fast. It was a frigate, the one that had managed to escape from Louisbourg's harbor while it was still under siege, Aréthuse.

While the Océan was a true floating fortress, a sturdy and heavy behemoth requiring an army of sailors to navigate, this ship was sleek, graceful, and rather simple, with none of the heavy gilded decorations at the stern. Being aboard such a ship was like going to the countryside after experiencing the bustle of a large city.

Despite its profile favoring speed and its large sails, the Aréthuse couldn't fully spread its wings due to the contrary winds. It was those very same winds that had allowed Duquesne de Menneville's ships to arrive so quickly at Louisbourg and surprise Admiral Boscawen's fleet. Now, however, they were a hindrance.

Slowly, the beautiful frigate sailed northward.

Although the journey might seem short on a map, the distance was similar to traveling from New York to Charleston or from Dublin to the Spanish coast. It took a week to make this journey.

"Reef the mainsail!"

Are we slowing down? Where are we?

The captain of the ship, an old man with a thick but well-groomed gray beard, stood at the stern, watching the maneuvers. His arms crossed behind his back, he resembled a grand general who missed nothing. Adam saw Captain Gilbert approach him, and curious to hear what they had to say, he moved closer.

"Captain, are we still far? Cough, cough, cough!"

"We are entering the mouth of the St. Lawrence. Quebec is at the end."

This is the estuary of a river?! It looks like a lake! It's huge!

"Though wide, the St. Lawrence River is treacherous. You need to know it well to navigate it with a ship of this tonnage. That's why I've ordered us to reduce sail. We wouldn't want to run aground on a sandbank, would we?"

Looking closely at the river, Adam noticed buoys positioned at regular intervals on both sides, forming a corridor. They marked the areas to avoid in order to reach Quebec City safely, the heart of New France.

The farther the Aréthuse sailed, the narrower the river became until it was no wider than a typical river found in this region. The transition was so seamless that the young man soon felt claustrophobic amid the stunning landscapes.

Standing near the bowsprit, he admired the wild scenery around him, which reminded him a little of Westphalia. But here, the landscape was far more imposing, with cliffs on either side of the river that seemed almost impassable. There were so few places suitable for landing that the area was extremely secure.

Wow! It's so beautiful! It feels like nothing has changed since the discovery of America!

As his gaze rested on the trees, they seemed so immense and numerous that he found it hard to believe a city could be nearby. Still accustomed to modernity, he had expected to see vast fields and patches of woods, remnants of a landscape altered by mankind.

It's so wild! Incredible! I'm sure there are deer, bears, and wolves! Is it... is it like this in the United States? Or rather, the future United States?

As the ship slowly sailed along the majestic river towards one of the largest cities in New France, a shout came from the rigging that small boats were in sight and approaching. Immediately, all the soldiers rushed to identify the newcomers and, as a precaution, prepared their weapons.

Captain Vauquelin addressed the soldiers, who had just arrived and were likely quite nervous.

"Everything is fine! They are our Mi'kmaq allies. Do not point your guns at them and try not to stare too much."

The men, including the company captains, all swallowed at the same time. It would be a first for them, as although there were veterans of the War of Austrian Succession, none of them had ever seen Native Americans.

Adam, because he came from another time when it was easy to meet and speak with people from all over the world, seemed perhaps the least worried. Not a single emotion was visible. However, inside, he still felt a twinge of apprehension. He knew nothing about these "Mi'kmaqs." Even their name was unfamiliar to him.

It sounds like the name of a burger... Shit, now I want a huge hamburger with lots of cheddar and fries! Ah, this isn't good, my cheeks hurt so much! I feel like I can smell the meat cooking! C-can I even make that in this era?

Captain Gilbert glanced furtively in his direction and, unaware of Adam's strange, nostalgia-filled thoughts, nodded softly. He was very pleased with his reaction.

As envoys of the Marshal and officers, they had to maintain a good appearance and appear calm at all times. From his perspective, his lieutenant's face was like a calm lake.

The small boats with their distinct appearance, five or six in total, quickly approached them and surrounded the Aréthuse as if they were about to scale the hull and kill them. From one of the boats, a tall, strong Native man dressed in a large red coat addressed the captain.

No one understood anything, and they all turned to the captain. The old man then responded in the same language as the warrior-like Native, which raised an eyebrow of surprise from all the passengers.

Monsieur Vauquelin did not speak the language of these indigenous people fluently, but he could make himself understood. Here, he explained with very simple words that they were French friends on their way to Quebec to see their chief.

Under the attentive gaze of the soldiers, the canoes cleared a path, allowing the frigate to continue its journey.

Once again, the soldiers raised an eyebrow in surprise. It made one wonder who truly held power in this region.

After passing a large island in the middle of the river, the frigate finally arrived in Quebec.

Its location was excellent: perched on a rocky plateau, it needed no fortifications on that side. With no place to dock, the frigate dropped anchor in the middle of the river.

Rather than disembarking all the soldiers, it was decided with the other captains to send only Captain Gilbert and his lieutenant to meet the Governor of New France. Of course, they would be accompanied by a few soldiers for protection. It was also a matter of prestige.

The captain, who seemed to be struggling to suppress another coughing fit, and his young lieutenant thus disembarked literally at the foot of the city with six soldiers.

They quickly arrived in a small built-up area known simply as "Lower Town." There were a few houses, warehouses, batteries to defend access to the city, and a church. They passed by the church and, via a sort of ramp, accessed the Upper Town.

This is… it's much cleaner than I imagined. In fact, it's quite… normal? I was too harsh, thought Adam as he curiously observed this town that would become a beautiful city of more than five hundred thousand souls two centuries later.

For now, it only had a population of eight thousand four hundred.

Hmm, it's more orderly than I feared. I expected to see muddy streets, miserable people living in filthy houses. Well, it's not Versailles, but it's not so bad.

Looking at the locals, he sensed a kind of natural determination. Perhaps it was something necessary to survive in these lands so far north?

There were clearly more men than women, many children, a few Natives, but even more shocking was the sight of a handful of Black people. He had only seen three, and it was very clear they were not ordinary subjects of His Majesty, but slaves.

"Is there a problem, Lieutenant?" asked Captain Gilbert, looking around without seeing anything out of the ordinary when he noticed Adam had stopped in the middle of the street.

"No, um… it's nothing," Adam replied, averting his gaze.

Instead, he fixed his eyes on the massive building they were heading towards.

It stood proudly to his left, like an old stone soldier, watching over the river and the town. This star-shaped fort, known as Fort Saint-Louis, housed, among other things, the offices of the Governor of New France.