Heroes

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As soon as Marshal Richelieu's army arrived in Quebec, the heart of New France, it was clear that the atmosphere was very strange.

Everything suggested that something significant had happened in their absence.

Adam, walking at a steady pace despite his aching feet and burning legs, curiously observed the city's streets. Everyone marching alongside him tried to make sense of what could be putting the people of Quebec in such a state.

Richelieu left his men under the care of the officers accompanying him and headed alone toward the fort to meet the aging Governor Vaudreuil.

Colonel de Bréhant exchanged a few words with the other colonels and majors about what they could do and what they absolutely could not allow.

If they decided to give the men free rein in the city, it was almost certain they would cause trouble in every corner of Quebec. Of course, in case of an emergency, they would have to run after them, wrest bottles—or worse—out of their hands.

"Hey, Captain, when can we head out?"

"Yeah! We need some rest!"

"And wine!"

"And good food!"

"And women!"

"Oh, yes!"

The colonels watched the men grow increasingly restless, and it had only been five minutes since the marshal had left. Finally, they authorized the men to explore the city but strictly ordered them not to cause any trouble under penalty of severe punishment.

Almost immediately, Adam saw the army scatter and spread throughout the city as if they intended to loot it. Most of the men went off in search of a tavern or an inn.

"François," said Albert Fontaine, placing a large hand on his shoulder, "stay a moment, please. I want to learn more about what's been going on."

"Same. I had no intention of getting drunk."

"Good. Let's find a local who can help us. Do you see anyone, Lieutenant Belmaison?"

"Hmm, what about those soldiers over there?"

Adam turned and spotted a small group of soldiers near the fort, guarding the cannons of a battery overlooking a wide stretch of the Saint Lawrence River. They looked young and fresh, as if they had just enlisted.

They exuded a strange energy that Adam quickly identified as enthusiasm—the kind that follows enlistment in the King's army, just before realizing you've been swindled.

"Hello, gentlemen," began Captain Rivière, waving to start a conversation. "Quebec seems quite lively, doesn't it? Do you know why?"

The three young soldiers stopped talking among themselves as soon as they saw the group of officers approach and hurriedly snapped to a rigid salute, just as they had been taught on their first day.

"Yes, Captain! Louisbourg was attacked during the night of October 13th to 14th, and our soldiers successfully defended the city! We even managed to kill the enemy commander!"

"What?!"

"So that's why…"

Adam let out a small sigh of relief, though part of him felt disappointed.

So we made this entire journey for nothing?

He shifted his stance slightly to relieve his aching right leg, but doing so only put more strain on his equally sore left leg.

Hurgh! If we had known it would end like this, we would certainly have taken our time coming here. Tch. I would have liked to play a role in the battle. If I'd distinguished myself, perhaps I could have been promoted to captain.

"Do you have the details?" asked Albert Fontaine, though the young soldiers seemed ready to share everything.

"Yes! Well, the English first scouted the area by sending one of their ships close to the city, and when they saw there were almost no ships in the harbor, they decided to attack it during the night. Their soldiers landed east of the harbor, far enough not to be detected, and used the darkness to carry small boats through the woods to the port."

"W-wait, they carried boats from their landing point to the port?!"

"Yes, sir! And because the weather was bad, the soldiers and sailors aboard our ships in the harbor didn't see them coming! But that was only part of their force! The main group stayed on land and circled around to one of the gates."

"It seems," continued a second soldier, who barely looked old enough to be an adult, "that the enemy commander was aboard the first boat. They killed our soldiers guarding the gate and opened it to let their comrades in. We lost many men there," he added sadly.

"It's said throughout the city that their commander—I think his name was Wolfe—fought valiantly with a sword in hand and killed the officer on duty. Then they quickly advanced, killing all our soldiers defending that part of the city, but those men managed to inflict heavy losses on them. They're heroes!"

"Yes, real heroes," confirmed the first, nodding vigorously. "They allowed our garrison to organize and prevent the enemy from reaching the fort. From what we were told, our soldiers blocked all the streets and killed every redcoat who had scattered to loot and burn the city."

"That's when their commander is said to have been killed. Because they couldn't advance any further and their leader was dead, they began to retreat. It was chaos, from what we were told, and that's largely why we managed to drive them out of the city so easily."

Adam, Thomas Belmaison, and Albert stood speechless. They hadn't expected the battle to end like this and so quickly. For the English, it must have been a severe blow.

"Do you know how many of them there were and how many of us?"

"Um, I think we had about the same number of men as they did, barely three thousand," replied the third soldier, hesitating visibly as he immediately glanced at his comrades for confirmation.

The three officers thanked the soldiers and wished them well before walking away.

Lost in thought, they remained silent for a moment.

This is big news! No wonder the people of Quebec are in such high spirits! Ah, how I wish I could have been part of that! But, well, I can't be everywhere at once. At least I've done my share in other battles; that's what I need to remember.

A faint smirk appeared on Adam's face as he thought back to everything he'd experienced since their rescue of Louisbourg. It already felt like a distant memory, considering how much had happened in just a few months.

We saved Fort Carillon, attacked Fort Edward, attacked Fort Miller, fought a small army, captured Albany, and defended Fort Edward twice! I even got to see what an Indian village looks like! Can those who stayed in Louisbourg say the same?

"Captain? What do you think we'll do now that Louisbourg is out of danger?"

Albert Fontaine turned to his loyal lieutenant, who seemed intrigued by the city's growing excitement.

"Louisbourg is definitely safe, at least until next spring. But we might still have time for one more action. It'll depend on what they're deciding up there."

"You mean the Duke and the Governor?" Adam asked, glancing at the tall building overlooking the impressive river.

"Exactly. The enemy that attacked Louisbourg was clearly the remnants of General Amherst's army. They must have come from somewhere. I don't know much about the major cities in this region, but there's bound to be a gap in the enemy's defenses."

"So," Lieutenant Belmaison chimed in, "you think we're going to attack British territory? Isn't that a bit risky?"

The captain, despite his experience in the previous war, knew no more about this continent than his two comrades. Still, he believed he could guess what the old Marshal would do.

"Winter isn't here yet, but it will be soon, that's true. I've heard it can be brutal in this region, much worse than in Germany. Hmm. If I'm right, as long as the snow doesn't fall, the Marshal will keep the operations going. I'm certain we'll try something."

Adam nodded slowly and glanced around, watching the soldiers mingle with the settlers. Soon, he noticed they were beginning to hear the good news. It didn't take long for victory songs to echo throughout the city.

The young lieutenant sighed in resignation, already imagining himself running around trying to round up the men in his friend's company.

Well, let them enjoy themselves while they can. I just hope no bad news comes to ruin the celebration.

Albert Fontaine led him toward the heart of the city, and together they entered a bustling inn, naturally packed with hungry soldiers. The room was so crowded and noisy that one had to shout to be heard and elbow through the crowd to reach the counter.

"Food and drink for the three of us! Bring us a good bottle!"

"Albert?"

"What? I said no getting drunk, not no drinking at all, hehe."

***

Meanwhile, in the governor of New France's office, Monsieur de Richelieu was analyzing reports and studying the maps presented by his interlocutor.

Everything seemed to have been prepared to explain the situation to him as soon as he arrived.

They were all spread out before him like tarot cards.

The account of events, accompanied by the figures from the confrontation, was clear.

As the marshal reviewed the events of the night of October 13th to 14th—less than a week earlier—the governor observed him silently, seated behind his wide desk. His large, timeworn hands rested on the ornately carved armrests decorated with gold leaf.

All that could be heard was the chirping of a few birds outside, the rustle of paper, and the mechanism of an exquisite clock.

"I see," sighed the veteran soldier. "I understand the situation better now. Thank you, Governor."

"You're welcome; it's only natural. One of our ships is already en route to Europe to inform His Majesty of what has happened. We were lucky this time, once again. This marks three attacks in two years, not counting the one the English canceled last autumn."

"That's quite a lot," the marshal agreed. "It's therefore likely they'll aim to break through here again next spring."

"Probably, yes. I repeat myself, but this city is vital to the security of New France. Fortunately, you left part of your forces here! Otherwise, this place might already be under British control!"

The old Duc de Richelieu, who was nearly the same age as the governor, maintained an impassive expression, though inwardly he congratulated himself on the decision. In some ways, it was thanks to him that Louisbourg hadn't fallen.

"Ah, that reminds me. I received some important news from France two days ago. It's not fresh, of course, given the distance, but I'm sure you'll find it interesting."

"Oh? What's happened?"

"First, you must recall that large fleet you faced in the waters of Brittany, correct?"

"Of course! A splendid victory," the marshal commented with a predatory smile.

"And a great humiliation for the British. Their admiral, Edward Hawke, was sentenced to death by the court-martial convened to try him and several captains. This happened over a month ago, so I believe he has already been executed."

"Really? How tragic. The English are such cruel people. Do they truly tolerate no failures?"

The old governor shook his head, his face marked with concern.

"This will likely push their officers to become far more aggressive, both on land and at sea. I am very worried about the future of this war."

"Don't worry, Governor. Our own officers lack neither courage nor resolve."

"True, and that provides the perfect transition to the second piece of news I have for you."

"Oh? There's more?"

"Indeed, I believe this is the most significant development in this conflict since the diplomatic reversal of alliances. Last month, the Prince of Soubise carried out a landing on the English coast. He took advantage of the English focusing on a raid against our shores to strike several towns and villages along England's southern coast."

"Really?! He did that?!"

The old marshal had every reason to be surprised, for while English raids on their port cities were commonplace, the reverse was almost unheard of due to the overwhelming British naval presence in the Channel.

"Indeed, sir. In truth, he was quite fortunate. He might never have succeeded had our enemies not been so preoccupied with harassing us here. They had intended a landing near Brest but suffered heavy losses without achieving anything. Furthermore, Parliament and His Britannic Majesty had recently sent out a large fleet, leaving the Channel far less secure when the prince set sail with his men."

"Incredible! It seems I was wrong about that man."

The marshal had not held a high opinion of the prince, seeing him as a spoiled child given significant resources to compensate for his incompetence. It was hard to believe that someone like him could achieve such command without the support of the king's mistress.

On reflection, perhaps this operation wasn't entirely his own. He might simply have executed someone else's idea, pressured by his protector.

"Where exactly did he attack?" the marshal asked the governor.

"According to this letter, he conducted several landings in the Hastings area before re-embarking to strike other towns further east. There was reportedly a significant engagement off the village of Margate. Thanks to Monsieur de Conflans' command, His Majesty achieved a decisive victory, opening the way to other major cities."

"T-they… They didn't attack London, did they?"

"Impossible! Even with a fleet twice the size, it's uncertain they could have succeeded. However, they did completely destroy Sheerness and caused significant damage to the port and arsenal at Chatham."

"I-incredible! That brat keeps surprising me! Ahahah! I'll have to drink with the lad to congratulate him! His Majesty must be delighted!"

"Sadly, sir, that won't be possible. The Prince of Soubise, alas, lost his life at Sheerness. It was the Marquis de Lafayette who struck Chatham to avenge him."

Immediately, the marshal's joy dissipated. Though he hadn't gotten along well with the prince, it wasn't to the extent of wishing his death.

"The Prince of Soubise is dead… Then let us drink to his memory."

The governor said nothing, filling their glasses generously with fine Bordeaux wine. The bottle was exquisitely crafted and, when opened, released a powerful aroma that filled the room, quieter than a cathedral.

Simply from the scent, one could discern the origin of the grapes that had gone into producing the ruby-colored drink. It danced in the fine glass like a stormy sea and whispered words of love.

Whether an enthusiast or a connoisseur, one couldn't help but be captivated by such a sight. Yet the two men didn't react.

They drained their glasses in one go and remained silent for a long time, each contemplating his empty glass.

The atmosphere turned strange, like a funeral vigil.

Finally, the governor broke the silence, which was beginning to feel oppressive.

"What do you plan to do, sir?"

"Hmm… You mentioned that a large fleet had left England. Do we know where it's headed?"

"According to our spies in London and near the Isle of Wight, it is meant to reinforce the British colonies. Parliament apparently struggled to gather enough sailors and soldiers."

"That's troubling. They could shift the balance of power. Will we receive reinforcements?"

"It's planned, but I have no details. All I know is that they will not be escorted by Monsieur de Conflans. He is tasked with retaking Saint-Louis of Senegal from the English before heading to India."

"I see. Well, so be it. I'll act alone and hope our reinforcements arrive during the winter. Let's see, the enemy comes from Halifax, correct?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Then that's where I shall strike."