The rain hammered down on the rooftops so forcefully that one might have thought it was hail falling.

The noise was deafening, drowning out all other sounds.

Neither the moon nor the stars were visible that night. Darkness had fallen like a sentence, wrapping the gray landscape in its cloak. Nothing was visible except for the faint lights of the enemy camp in the distance.

The Hudson River had overflowed but hadn’t reached the tents occupied by the soldiers of the British army. It carried branches and even whole trees as if they were nothing.

Adam hesitated for a few seconds as he took in the force of the downpour but finally stepped out into the foul weather. He was wrapped in a large oilcloth brown cloak, making him look like a spy or an assassin. A hood pulled over his face hid his serious expression.

The rain pelted him relentlessly and slid down the heavy, uncomfortable cloak. It was waterproof, protecting him somewhat from the dampness, but it was no help in keeping him warm. A light breeze slipped through and made him shiver.

Fuck… What miserable weather. Feels like being in Germany in winter. Damn it, the climate here is horrible. It’s August, for crying out loud! It should be, I don’t know, thirty degrees in the day and twenty at night! Feels like autumn!

The young man, already frowning, furrowed his brow even more. Immediately, he felt a pinching pain between his eyebrows, as if someone were pinching his skin. Despite his attempts, he couldn’t relax.

Adam inhaled and exhaled deeply in the evening air, listening to the gentle sound of the rain, and took several steps on the central yard, which now looked like a pool. It was impossible to avoid the large muddy puddles spreading and merging together.

Armed with a creaky lantern, he climbed onto the rampart and greeted the soldiers on guard, less well-equipped than him but not completely exposed to the elements. Each had their tricks to avoid ending up soaked. It was a sure way to catch a nasty cold and a fever.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Adam greeted as soon as he reached the top of the earth-and-wood rampart.

"Good evening, lieutenant!"

"Everything all right? Nothing to report?"

"No, sir. The enemy is quiet tonight."

Adam gave a slight smile, as he still wasn’t used to being called "sir," especially when the person speaking to him was older. In his mind, he was still just a kid.

He briefly glanced at the impressive black cannon behind the two men. Located southwest of the fort, it was aimed directly at the river, toward the north. Firmly secured to the rampart, it would currently be almost impossible to operate it with so much rain. The black powder needed to be very dry to burn properly.

Anyway, it’s aimed in the wrong direction.

The young lieutenant turned toward the other cannon, which could actually be used in battle, as it was aimed southeast.

"Hmm?"

"Sir?"

"I thought I saw something over there," he said, pointing east.

"Are you sure?"

"No… Just in case, follow me."

The two soldiers, surprised, obeyed and followed Adam toward the large southern bastion they had named "Saint-Louis."

There were five heavy-caliber cannons there. The first was aimed west toward the Hudson River, the second south, and two toward the east. The last one, with its back almost touching the neighboring cannon—a dangerous setup—was pointed northeast.

It was the second cannon, aimed south, that had done most of the work defending the fort. The others, due to their orientation, had been practically useless.

I’m sure I saw something… Maybe it was just a deer or something like that, but… You never know.

Quickly, Adam and the two soldiers arrived at the Saint-Louis bastion, which was eerily silent. Their silhouettes barely stood out against the rainy sky, and their footsteps were muffled by the buckets of water falling on them.

They were shocked to discover a small group of men in green infiltrating the fort. Their fierce eyes fixed on them.

Shit!

Adam had just enough time to duck as a hatchet flew over his head, grazing the hood of his cloak. If he hadn’t reacted in time, it would certainly have killed him. A dull thud sounded behind him, but he didn’t have time to check what the weapon had embedded into.

Blood pounded in his temples, and time seemed to stand still.

Without hesitation, he drew his pistol, and gunshots exploded on the bastion as men in green and men in white clashed.

Immediately, the alarm was raised.

"Alarm! Enemy attack!"

"On the south bastion!"

"On Saint-Louis bastion!"

"The enemy is inside the fort!"

In less than two minutes, several hundred armed men gathered on the parade ground. The Rogers’ Rangers who had attempted to sabotage the fort’s gates were quickly spotted and surrounded. Despite their efforts, they were killed to the last man.

It was harder to find and eliminate the others. They were able to slip into the tiniest corners and stay hidden.

One of them, one of Robert Rogers’ officers, who was trying to set fire to the stores, managed to reach his objective. Fortunately, he was taken down, and the fire was controlled. However, he still managed to kill three men before taking his last breath.

Similarly, those who tried to sabotage the cannons of the Saint-Louis bastion were quickly killed. Luckily, they hadn’t had time to carry out their crime.

The fort remained on high alert for most of the night in case one of these men had managed to hide somewhere.

Adam, trembling and with bright eyes, was called a little later in the evening to Marquis de Montcalm’s office and praised for his quick reaction. However, nothing more came of it. There was no reward.

Well, I guess I won’t become a captain this time. At least I stood out a bit, even if it was just by luck.

He thought back to those men in green and grimaced.

They’re really sneaky. They moved and fought like Indians.

Adam set his damp cloak on a chair with his sword and his pistol, which he had reloaded. Then he lay down on a relatively comfortable bed.

The room was warm but smelled strongly of wet dog, as he had to share it with six other people.

When he slipped under the wool blankets, he immediately felt fatigue overwhelm him. It felt like he was sinking, as if he had settled into the best bed. A cloud couldn’t have felt more comfortable, which was strange given that the mattress was very thin and the pillow quite flat.

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“Oh, wow… Ah, this feels good. I don’t want to move.”

A silly smile spread on his lips as his mind sank deeper and deeper into a comforting abyss.

When he reopened his eyes, he was sitting on a cream-colored couch, soft and deep. Plume, his cat, was comfortably settled on his lap, purring like a little motor, while Ludo, his dog, slept on his rug in front of the TV stand.

The shutters were closed, and the lights in the living room and dining room were on. Very different from candlelight, the light from the bulbs seemed white and blinding.

Adam struggled to adjust.

In front of him, images flashed rapidly on the big TV, and a powerful sound came from the speakers positioned on either side. The noise was so loud he felt like his head was pressed against the screen.

It was a war movie. There was music, but mostly the sounds of gunfire and cannons. Men in red were charging a frontier fort that didn’t look any more elaborate than a Roman fort. There was a lot of smoke.

A movement in a mirror, near a closed window, caught his attention.

He saw his mother, Alicia, approaching and eventually coming into his line of sight.

She was wearing an apron over her usual colorful clothes, which she liked so much. She was carrying a large pot with both hands that seemed heavy, giving off a delicious aroma. There was stewed meat, carrots, potatoes, onions, and many aromatic herbs.

“Oh, Adam, you’re awake? I thought you’d sleep through the whole movie, haha!”

Her soft laugh, recognizable anywhere, filled the room.

The young boy felt a tear run down his cheek. With a trembling hand, he wiped it away, but another drop fell, landing on Plume’s back, waking her up.

She yawned lazily but didn’t move, preventing Adam from getting up. He wanted to jump up and hug his mother, but Plume felt like she weighed a ton on his legs. He was trapped on the couch.

“Mom…” he murmured with emotion, watching her carry out her daily gestures.

“Dinner’s ready!” she called loudly, so the other members of the house could hear.

“Yes!” his father replied from his office, which was more of a game room than a workspace.

He’d always loved computer games, so it wasn’t surprising that he spent most of his free time in that room, second only to the master bedroom, of course.

Adam heard his father’s familiar, heavy footsteps and then saw him appear, followed by his sister, Aurore, who was upstairs.

One by one, they sat around the steaming stew in the center of the table. Each person was in front of their plate. Only he was still sitting on the couch.

Adam’s mother served each member of the family. His father, Guillaume, was smiling and seemed eager to start the meal. Aurore, who took more after their father than their mother, was on her phone, but quickly put it down to focus on the meal.

“Well, Adam? Aren’t you coming?”

“I…”

He wanted to get up, but Plume was so comfortably settled that nothing seemed to disturb her.

The more he tried to move her, the heavier she felt. He even thought he could feel her claws through his jeans, telling him she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Looks like you’re stuck,” Adam’s mother said with a strange, sad smile.

This immediately caught the boy’s attention. When he turned his head to look at his family, he noticed that they had all stopped moving and were looking at him with sadness.

“You seem really trapped,” Guillaume said in a serious tone. “But it’s all right. It won’t get cold too quickly. We can wait a bit longer, right?”

Aurore nodded.

“But not too long, okay? I’m really hungry.”

Alicia affectionately blew into her daughter’s hair to tease her, something she did from time to time.

"Don’t listen to her, darling. We’ll wait as long as we have to."

Adam wanted to say something, but his words caught in his throat. He only then realized that none of this was real. He began to cry harder, like the young man he truly was.

"I’ll join you soon, I promise!"

His parents and his sister smiled at him, and the light from the bulbs grew even brighter until it blinded him completely. At one point, he couldn’t even see his own hands. All he could do was hear the sound of the TV.

When he reopened his eyes, the sun was already up, and the rain had stopped. Immediately, he wiped a damp hand over his face to dry his tears. Even if it had only been a dream, seeing his parents again had been painful. He felt as though he hadn’t seen them in an eternity.

I... I’ll come home! I promise!

Adam quickly composed himself and joined the others on the rampart.

The French soldiers were already in position, ready for battle. Unlike the previous day, some small adjustments had been made to the southern rampart. Two cannons had been moved from the north rampart to give the Redcoats hell.

They had also changed the direction of the leftmost cannon on Saint-Louis bastion so that it no longer aimed at the river and Rogers Island, but at the road leading to Albany.

The ground was waterlogged. Still unstable after yesterday’s battle, it was just a vast muddy area where you could easily lose a shoe. The only good news for the English was that it wasn’t raining anymore, and nothing suggested it would start again.

The sky was a deep blue, dotted with a few white clouds.

But that day, there was no assault, as the British officers deemed it a waste of energy to attack now. The terrain was too unfavorable for them.

"Hey, Albert?" Adam said as the captain sat down between him and the very young Captain Morrel de Lusernes.

"Hum? Yes?"

"How much longer do you think this war will last?"

Albert Fontaine didn’t answer immediately, chewing a piece of bread slowly.

"Who knows? A year? Two years? Five years? Ten years? No one can tell."

"But the other wars, how long did they last? Do you know?"

Captain Fontaine, being a veteran of the War of Austrian Succession, had some fairly extensive knowledge of France’s military history, though it was limited compared to higher-ranking officers or those with a better education.

"The others, I’m not sure about. All I can tell you is that the one for the Austrian throne lasted eight years."

T-That long?! The First World War only lasted four years! And the Second lasted six years! This one officially started in 1756. It’s only been two years!

"Don’t make that face, kid," said Captain Gauthier, mouth full. "Given our great victories, I’m sure we’ll win a major victory soon. England doesn’t have unlimited resources. They just have more ships than we do."

"But you’re forgetting that on this continent," added Captain André Louis, "they have more soldiers. For us to really have the upper hand, we’d need more soldiers, but that means getting them here."

"And we nearly all got wiped out in the Channel," added Captain Morrel de Lusernes. "The English control the seas, so they can stop us from getting reinforcements. They, however, will likely get some after Louisbourg and Carillon. Maybe they’re already on the way."

A heavy silence settled around the small group gathered around a timid wood fire.

"You fought in the War of Austrian Succession with Captain Gilbert, didn’t you? What was it like? I mean, was it different from this one?"

Albert Fontaine, André Louis, Jean-Baptiste Gauthier, and Marcel Leroy were the only ones in the group who had fought in that war. They exchanged hesitant looks to see who wanted to speak first.

In the awkward silence, it was André Louis who spoke up.

"All wars are more or less the same, I’d say. The enemies and allies change. The battlefields, too. In the last war, we were allied with Prussia and others, while on the other side were Russia, Austria, and the United Provinces. I think the only thing that hasn’t changed is that we’re fighting those damned Redcoats."

While he spoke, the other captains listened in silence as they ate, occasionally adding a word or two.

"Who started the war?" Adam asked, sincerely curious. "And why?"

"Who? I believe it was Prussia. As for why, it’s because their king wanted Silesia. Basically, the elected Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire died, leaving behind two daughters. He wanted everything to go to the current Queen of Austria. She was the eldest, I think. Well, not everyone was pleased with that. The King of Prussia wanted Silesia in exchange for his support. Then he sent his armies to seize it. In France, well, I suppose some thought it would be good for His Majesty and the kingdom if we ended up supporting another candidate. So, we entered the war."

He couldn’t help but chuckle as he remembered the past.

"It’s funny, really. We fought in the same region for roughly the same reason, but with yesterday’s enemies against our former allies. Like I said, we were allied with Prussia, who wanted Silesia. We fought like dogs, and all for what? For them to abandon us and sign a separate peace with Austria. I bet the English got a good laugh out of that!"

"And now," Gauthier said, mouth full, "it’s the opposite. Prussia has signed a separate peace with us, and England is left on its own. Well, almost. There’s Portugal."

"True," André Louis commented, gazing into the flickering fire, "although Prussia returned to the war later, afraid of losing its gains. The war continued, and we had a few fine successes, like at Fontenoy, but we also suffered serious setbacks. We fought in Bohemia, in Italy, in India, in the New World. I wasn’t there, but I heard it wasn’t pleasant, mostly because of the Indians rather than the Redcoats."

The officer cautiously moved his hands closer to the flames to warm himself, though he didn’t seem to succeed. Adam could see his hands trembling.

"In the end, we gained nothing from that war. We lost many brave men, several ships, and from what I know, it cost us a lot financially. Thanks to taxes, we bounced back quickly, but I don’t think we were ready to fight another war."

"I agree, and that’s what my father and uncle said too," chimed in young Captain Morrel de Lusernes. "They said we needed another two or three years to be able to bring England down. We may have won some great victories, but I’m sure our economy is on its knees!"

Adam was surprised by so much energy in this young boy with a childlike face. He nodded silently, then the conversation took a strange turn to discuss economics. Young Morrel de Lusernes, once on the subject, didn’t stop talking and became as passionate as if he were reciting a thesis.

Young Adam, completely lost, could barely participate in the conversation but surprised everyone by suggesting that the people take a few weeks off in the summer for vacations and trips to the beach. He also proposed developing rugby to create sporting events in France and even around the world!

The suggestions were made so naturally and seriously that it took the officers a moment to react, but they all ended up bursting into laughter at how absurd it sounded. The only one who didn’t laugh was young Martin Morrel de Lusernes.

It wasn’t until very late in the night that Adam finally lay down, and this time, he had no memorable dreams.