The Morning Of The Departure

Thank you Mium, Porthos10, Microraptor, aon_8940, Dekol347, ThisguyAEl and Ranger_Red for the support!

Enjoy!

----------------------------------------- 

The sun had not yet risen, and yet Fort Bourbon was bustling with activity.

In the courtyard of the main fort, the troop designated to play the role of civilians was getting ready to depart. Among them was Albert Fontaine, his expression focused yet calm.

For now, no one was in disguise. Every man wore his usual uniform, a stratagem designed to deceive Robert Rogers' rangers, who could be in the woods, observing their every move.

For a week now, such maneuvers had become part of their routine, reinforcing the illusion that this was nothing more than an ordinary patrol in the area.

The air was mild, and the sky was still dark. A few stars were still clearly visible, but a sublime orange glow was intensifying.

It gave the impression that somewhere beyond the horizon, a massive fire was raging, destroying everything in its path.

However, there wasn't a breath of wind, and almost no clouds, a sign that the day would be hot.

Albert, amidst his men, was checking the final preparations. He moved from group to group, exchanging quick words with his subordinates, ensuring that everything was in order. If all went as planned, they would all be back that evening to enjoy a victory toast.

Satisfied, he joined Colonel de Hautoy, who was in charge of this operation, along with a few other officers standing aside. The conversation was brief—one last exchange of instructions and reminders before they dispersed. De Hautoy would not be leaving with them but with the second team.

Adam, Martin, and André seized the opportunity to approach their friend.

"Well, we'll be leaving soon," Albert said, letting out a brief sigh.

"Everything's in order, then?" Adam asked, glancing at the large group of soldiers.

"Yes, finally. After all these days of training, my men were really starting to grow impatient. By the way, where's Jean-Baptiste?"

Albert scanned the area but couldn't spot the very distinctive face of Captain Gauthier. A man with the face of a bulldog didn't go unnoticed easily.

"He's probably still sulking because his company wasn't selected," André said with an eye-roll. "At his age, he should stop throwing tantrums. He's like a child."

"Haha, that's true," Albert admitted with a laugh. "But I guess it's just part of his character. Ah, there he is now!"

Adam turned to look in the direction Albert had indicated and indeed saw an officer approaching. He was a bit short, with a round belly as if he had hidden a pillow under his jacket. His deeply furrowed brows, as though someone had played a cruel joke on him, made him look even more like a bulldog.

"Well, Jean-Baptiste," André teased with a mischievous smile, "we were starting to think you wouldn't show up."

"Tss! As if I'd let him leave without saying goodbye. Hey, you'd better kill their leader or at least take out as many enemies as possible, okay?"

Albert gave a wide grin at his comrade, more a friend than a colleague. Ever since he had met the young Captain Boucher, Adam, he had gotten into the habit of saying "okay" whenever he could, even though he still didn't know where the expression came from.

Adam had explained that it could replace "all right," so he used it, thinking that was how young people spoke. Martin occasionally used it too.

"You look terrible this morning, Albert," Jean-Baptiste suddenly remarked. "Are you sick? Or are you scared?"

"Neither. Just a little tired," Albert replied with a laugh. "You'd know if you had come by last night."

"We drank until one or two in the morning," Martin said with a smile, his eyes red and puffy from lack of sleep. "You should've joined us!"

Jean-Baptiste frowned even harder and clenched his teeth. Like a sulking child, he crossed his arms and looked away.

"I was busy. I had work to do, unlike the rest of you."

Everyone smiled, which greatly annoyed Captain Gauthier.

"Really? And what work kept you from joining us for a drink? Could it be that you're corresponding with a lady? Haha!"

"Even Martin finds time to join us, and yet he writes to his little English girl every day!"

"Shut up!" Jean-Baptiste snapped, his face crimson.

"Oh?! So there is someone?!" André exclaimed, delighted.

Immediately, the way they looked at Jean-Baptiste Gauthier changed. Their eyes, however, remained mischievous. They looked like little devils who had found an easy target.

"Yes, so what?"

Their gazes grew even more curious and amused.

"Who is it? What's her name?" André pressed eagerly.

"It's your mother."

Adam, stunned, choked on his saliva and began coughing violently while his friends burst into laughter at Gauthier's quip. It was very rare to hear him joke, so when he did, it always took everyone by surprise.

"I'm kidding, of course," he said with a sly smile. "I met her in Halifax, and we write to each other sometimes."

"W-wait, Halifax?! And you never told us all this time?! Who's the lucky lady?!"

"Her name is Elizabeth."

"A-An Englishwoman?!"

The bulldog-faced captain timidly nodded, somewhat regretting bringing up the topic.

"She's a widow and was looking to rebuild her life. We… we met by chance and had a little chat. So now and then, I write to her."

"Ah! Congratulations! Hey, you're the second one to get close to an Englishwoman! But wait," André-Louis added, suddenly realizing something, "does that mean Martin was the second?"

Martin Morrel de Lusernes wasn't fazed and stayed silent, feeling genuinely happy for his friend, who was much older than him.

"Hey, André, are you also going to get together with an Englishwoman?" Albert asked.

"No way! My old man would never accept it! Besides, I'm already married, you know that."

"I was just joking," Albert said with a smile. "And you, François?"

"M-me?"

Adam, caught off guard, flinched and immediately felt four pairs of eyes on him. He suddenly wanted to run away.

"Yes, you! There's no other François here, as far as I know," Albert teased, a huge grin on his face.

"Are you going to end up with an Englishwoman?"

"Well, I don't really care, to be honest. As long as there's love."

Ah, but that won't happen here. I don't think so. If I ever have to go back to my time, that would mean abandoning my wife. I can't do that—it's too painful. Too cruel.

Adam had understood well enough that, here, relationships between men and women were taken very seriously. If he got into a relationship, his partner would expect it to be for life.

If this war continued like this, then a peace treaty would soon be signed, and he could return to Europe, travel freely—or almost freely—to Hameln, and search the woods surrounding the village of Hastenbeck.

He couldn't do it with a clear conscience if he left someone behind. It would be even worse if, in the meantime, he had a child, which was a real possibility in this distant era.

"How beautiful and well said," André said, clapping his hands. "With your good looks and those pretty eyes of yours, I'm sure you'll find someone! Look at Jean-Baptiste—even he managed to find love!"

"Go to hell!"

Everyone burst out laughing again.

However, Adam noticed that Martin wasn't acting like his usual self.

Hmm? What's going on with him? I should talk to him later.

His thoughts seemed obvious and were picked up by Albert, who had also noticed a hint of sadness in Martin.

"Martin, what's wrong? Is there a problem?"

"H-huh? Oh, no, it's nothing," Martin replied, trying to hide his feelings with a forced smile.

Albert wasn't fooled, though, and pressed him further, forcing Martin to confess.

"It's just that… it makes me think about my situation with Rickje. Like André, my parents will never accept our relationship, even though it's just starting and nothing's guaranteed… for now."

He took a deep breath before continuing.

"I lied to her parents to get their permission to court her, and I write to her as often as I can to win her over, even though I know my parents will categorically refuse to let us marry."

Silence fell. The laughter had ceased, and everyone's expressions had grown serious.

"I understand," Albert said after a brief moment of thought. "Listen, if you want to court this little Englishwoman, go for it. But you have to be ready to see it through if your heart tells you to. If your feelings are mutual, there's no other choice. If you hesitate, then stop—it's better that way."

"I can't! I love her! But my parents… I don't know what to do."

"Well, from what I see, you'll eventually have to marry her without your parents' consent."

Martin paled.

"I-I could never do that!" he exclaimed, scandalized. "My family would never forgive me! They'd disown me!"

"But you'd be with your Englishwoman."

Albert's face subtly changed, his gaze growing distant.

"A long time ago, I knew a young man who was deeply in love. But the girl came from a good family, and he, well, he came from a very poor one. Their story, by all logic, should never have happened and had no chance of going anywhere. The young woman had a strong will and refused to live a life away from the man she loved, so they married in secret."

Martin, captivated, murmured, "And what happened to them?"

"The young man loved her madly and followed her into that risky adventure. One evening, he arranged to meet her with a priest he had bribed with what little he had at a small countryside church, and they married without either family present."

"A-and then?" Martin asked, with both worry and hope in his voice.

"They lived happily for a while, savoring their love in secrecy. It was the happiest time of his life, a happiness he had never known before. But all secrets eventually come to light. When the young woman's parents tried to marry her off to a handsome gentleman she had no feelings for, she was forced to confess that she was already married."

Albert swallowed hard, emotion gripping him, his gaze lost in a distant yet vivid past.

"Of course, it caused a scandal. The young woman's family was furious, and her name was covered in shame. The marriage was called off, and she wanted to introduce her husband. Naturally, her family refused, so she left. They lived in poverty but were rich in love. It wasn't long before her belly began to swell. Over time, her family eventually forgave her—enough, at least, to see her again. It was the young man who showed up at their door, more destitute than ever, with a little boy in tow. And that little boy was accepted into the family."

"A-and their daughter? I mean, the child's mother?"

"She lived a very hard life. He couldn't give her anything: no fine dresses, no beautiful jewelry, not even a decent roof over her head. But she didn't care because she was with the man she loved. One winter, she fell gravely ill and died within days. After her death, the young man was heartbroken and desperate. His own father died shortly afterward, leaving him burdened with debts. Because he couldn't provide a decent life for the boy, he agreed to bring him to his late wife's grandparents. After the child was taken in by his late wife's family, the young man enlisted in the army to have a meal every day."

Albert stared directly into Martin's eyes and said in a near whisper:

"If you're ready to face all the obstacles, if she is too, then live your life without regret. Otherwise, leave it at that."

Adam felt his eyes grow misty as he listened to the story, and every fiber of his being screamed that this young man was none other than Albert.

"Well, I see it's just my company left. I can't stay any longer, my friends. If you want more advice, don't hesitate to ask André, who's been married for years. Otherwise, we'll talk more, just the two of us, if you'd like, when I get back."

Wh-what?! What did he just say?!

It was at that moment Adam realized Albert was planting what were commonly referred to in stories, whether in novels or manga, as Death Flags. A massive sense of danger burst forth like a vengeful ghost in his heart, making him tremble and chilling him to the bone.

"W-wait! Albert!

"What? I have to go. Do you need advice too? If so, we'll talk later. Hey, I'm only leaving for the day."

"STOP SAYING THINGS LIKE THAT, DAMN IT! Are you doing it on purpose?!"

He leapt forward as if he'd been insulted, grabbed Albert by the collar, and shook him violently.

"Hey, calm down, François! What's gotten into you?!

"Ah! Let me go! Ah! What did I say?!"

"Take it back! You're cursing yourself! If you go, you're going to die!"

"Let him go! You're the one who's going to kill him at this rate! Damn it!"

Adam saw his friends grabbing his arms and shoulders, but he refused to let go. He kept shaking Albert as if he were a plum tree.

"Take it back! Take it back!"

"Aghhh! F-fine! I take it back!"

"Say it louder!"

"I-I take back everything I just said! I won't talk to you when I get back!"

"Damn bastard! He keeps going, the idiot!"

"Let him go! You're really going to kill him!"

The commotion attracted plenty of attention, but in the end, Albert was freed and managed to leave the fort with his company. In good order, the troop followed the dirt road leading to the ruins of Fort Miller before disappearing from sight. Adam stayed on the rampart for long minutes, still feeling the weight of a heavy lump in his stomach.

***

Later that afternoon, deep in the woods.

Several cabins had been built among the trees, using their shapes and arrangement to create constructions that were comfortable yet above all sturdy. They looked poor, but in reality, they were better than most military tents.

Several soldiers dressed in green could be seen near the center, but most served as sentries. No one could approach Rogers' encampment without being spotted.

Robert Rogers was calmly sitting on a tree felled by a storm, smoking the little tobacco he had left.

Slowly, he inhaled the smoke and exhaled it in front of him. With barely any wind, it lingered and floated like a specter in the air.

The temperature was relatively pleasant in the forest, thanks to the leaves and branches providing Rogers' fearsome troop with all the shade they needed to avoid suffocating. What was annoying, however, were the gnats, swarming like clouds everywhere around him and his men at this time of day.

Everything was silent, so much so that every noise seemed deafening.

Rogers wore his usual enigmatic smile that the younger recruits found unsettling. He always seemed to be thinking of a joke that only he would find funny.

A man in green with a scruffy beard and a split lip permanently revealing a yellow tooth emerged from the trees and approached the commander.

"Sir, a large troop has left Fort Edward. About a hundred men. They're escorting wagons."

"Which direction were they headed? North?"

"South, sir."

"Then they intend to raid a village… I thought there were no villages left north of Albany."

Robert Rogers' lieutenant, a man as tall as a mountain and as strong as a bull, stepped forward to join the conversation.

"They must've found one after all those patrols. They haven't stopped these past few days."

"Hmmm."

Rogers didn't reply and took another drag of the fragrant smoke, which had the power to soothe him and clear his mind—or so he believed.

"How many wagons?"

"T-three, sir."

"So they don't plan to loot just one village. Looks like they're targeting a small town. But with only a hundred men… Could there really be enough fools in this damn province to build multiple villages around here after everything that's happened?"

Not expecting an answer, he continued.

"Follow them and keep your distance. Don't get spotted and report everything they do to me. John, tell the guys to gather and prepare. We'll attack once they're done."

"Huh? We're not attacking them beforehand?"

"Why? Their wagons will be full once they're finished. We'll take what we want and send the rest to Albany."

"Got it, boss," the lieutenant said as he walked away, his face neutral.