Hello everybody! Here is a new chapter!
I hope you will enjoy it!
Thank you Shingle_Top, Mium, George_Bush_2910, Porthos10, lizeer, AlexZero12 and Ranger_Red for the support!
-----------------------------------------
December 29th.
The new year was just around the corner, but winter had been settled in for over a month already.
It hadn't snowed during the day, yet the biting cold preserved the thick blanket of snow that had fallen in previous days and now covered the entire region.
Everything around Adam was white. For once, his beautiful uniform seemed perfectly suited to the landscape.
If he had to carry out a covert operation in enemy territory, he wouldn't be easily spotted.
With each breath, a large white plume escaped from his lips and formed in front of his face, as if he were smoking. It took a few moments to dissipate — just enough time for the next plume to take its place.
Adam crossed his arms and let his gaze wander over the magnificent winter landscape. It looked like something straight out of a postcard.
The bare trees bowed under the weight of the snow, and the firs had turned into white cones. This breathtaking scene was completed by a majestic blue sky, only slightly veiled on the horizon, and a blinding sun that failed to warm his frozen body.
It's beautiful, but… damn, it's freezing! Bloody hell! I'd rather be roasting on a Caribbean beach right now! I could spend my breaks swimming with colorful fish and drinking coconut milk under the shade of a palm tree, with my feet buried in warm, fine sand!
"Move it! It's not over yet! One more lap!"
Adam was snapped out of his daydream by Lieutenant Bellemaison's powerful voice.
Just a few steps ahead, the officer's steely gaze never left the company, who were busy running in circles on their usual training ground.
They had carved a wide, clear path in the snow. It was very easy to spot anyone trying to cheat by cutting corners.
"La Coquette, you're slowing down! Pick up the pace! If Beau-Regard overtakes you, you'll be doing thirty extra push-ups!"
Adam could hear a loud sigh from where he stood, which drew a smile from him.
"La Coquette" was the nickname given to a soldier named Jacques La Colette, who spent more time than the others tending to his appearance. His name had been slightly altered to tease him good-naturedly.
The young man was well-built but lacked endurance. Despite all the training, that hadn't changed much.
Unsurprisingly, he was trailing behind on the sixth lap.
As for the soldier nicknamed "Beau-Regard," his real name was Pierre-Marie Richemont.
He had earned the nickname because of his strikingly vivid green eyes, as pure as emeralds. Small, lean, but incredibly enduring, he maintained a steady, supple stride, almost identical since the beginning of the exercise.
He had changed a lot physically since joining the company. His face had become more mature, and beneath his thick white coat, he now hid well-defined muscles.
Beau-Regard completed his lap just in front of Adam and calmly caught his breath.
He was soon joined by the rest of the company, most of them on the verge of collapse.
Their cheeks were flushed and hot, but the frigid air made it feel like their lungs were burning.
More than one looked ready to vomit from the brutal conditions.
Good, no one's collapsing, their captain thought with a certain satisfaction. And here come the last ones.
"La Coquette, you're only getting here now?! Step forward and line up! Everyone, in position — I want twenty push-ups!"
The soldiers weren't surprised, not even the newest ones.
This company had a reputation around the fort, and they'd had plenty of time to experience the training said to be as intense as that of the grenadiers.
"Move it! You call that a push-up?! Lower! I want your chin touching the snow! That's better! That is a push-up!"
Adam smiled discreetly.
Lieutenant Bellemaison was running the training perfectly — harsh but fair, demanding but very attentive to the needs of the men.
They knew they could count on him to listen, support them… and push them to their absolute limits.
Adam, for his part, had almost nothing to do. As the commanding officer, his role in these exercises was limited to giving orders; his lieutenants were there to ensure they were properly carried out.
He had met with his subordinates the night before, and again that morning before the exercise. He had gotten up before everyone else to prepare for the day.
Because the fickle weather had prevented them from training the previous day, he had ordered them to make up for it today with doubled intensity.
"Eight… nine… ten… Come on! Eleven! What's wrong, already tired? Want to take a nap? No way! Twelve! Push harder, damn it!"
The company had been alternating between running and basic exercises for over two and a half hours.
If they weren't doing one, they were doing the other.
Earlier that morning, they had also taken part in a military review at dawn.
Adam had noted with pride that the major hadn't found a single thing to criticize.
After so much effort and practice, they had mastered the exercise perfectly.
"Seventeen! Eighteen! Eighteen and a half! Come on, La Coquette, you can do it! Nineteen!"
Adam kept a close eye on that spot.
He knew his men's strengths and weaknesses.
La Coquette's face was now crimson, twisted with effort. He had forgotten the most important thing: breathing.
A thick vein was bulging across his sweat-soaked forehead — as if he had dunked his head into a bucket of water.
Adam noticed a small droplet clinging to the tip of his nose, desperately holding on to its perch to avoid falling.
Come on, you can do it! Just a little more!
The young captain couldn't encourage La Coquette as he would have liked. He maintained a dignified, detached mask, giving the illusion of an impassive commander in the face of his men's efforts.
"Twenty!"
Adam allowed himself a discreet smile as he watched La Coquette collapse into the snow. His face disappeared entirely, as if sinking into a comfortable pillow.
Lieutenant Bellemaison had to step in to haul him back up, for the exercise was not yet over.
"On your feet, soldier! What kind of example are you setting?!"
Adam then stepped forward, his voice rising calmly above the group of soldiers who were trying by any means to warm their hands.
"Men, grab your muskets!"
At once, all the soldiers hurried to retrieve the weapons they had placed beside them in the snow before doing push-ups.
"Form up! Four ranks!"
Despite their visible exhaustion, not a single man disobeyed. They lined up before their commander, gripping their muskets upright with both hands.
Their cheeks were flushed, and their breathing was short.
Adam's gaze was firm but filled with sincere pride.
"Fix bayonets!"
The soldiers reached for the bayonets attached to their belts. After a few seconds, the metallic clinking stopped.
Private Tournier, once the worst element in the company, was among the first to finish. His efforts had not been in vain.
Good.
"Right face!"
The company turned as one and faced a simple wooden structure resembling a swing, except that thick canvas sandbags had been hoisted and suspended from it.
"First rank, charge!"
Without the slightest hesitation, the soldiers obeyed and charged forward, gripping their long, heavy muskets like spears tighter than ever.
As they had been taught—and something that came quite naturally—they began to scream at the top of their lungs. In an instant, they reached the poor sandbags and drove their bayonets into them with startling ferocity.
It was as if these sacks were their oldest, most hated enemies.
The long, well-maintained blades had no trouble piercing them. As they withdrew their weapons, sand began to pour out heavily into the snow.
They anticipated the next order and quickly moved off to the right to make way for the following rank.
"Second rank, charge!"
The scene repeated itself with the same burst of energy, and the sandbags were punctured again.
By the time they had all passed, the sacks hung limp and empty at the ends of their ropes.
But Adam wasn't finished with them yet.
"Forward!"
Adam started running through the snow, followed by his two lieutenants and then the entire company, moving very quietly. They headed towards the "firing range."
For months, they had been using this open space to practice shooting at fixed targets set at various distances. Boards had been planted every ten toises—roughly every twenty meters.
Of course, everything had been prepared in advance.
"Company, halt! Re-form ranks! Three lines!"
Adam gave them no respite, yet the soldiers obeyed without complaint. Grumbling would get them nowhere—quite the opposite.
He continued to issue orders, his voice fluid and clear.
The difference this time was that both the lieutenants and Adam himself would be participating in the shooting exercise.
According to the latest royal ordinance, officers were also required to be armed with muskets. This only gave each company a few additional weapons, but on a battlefield, it could make a significant difference.
Adam's musket was slightly shorter than the standard-issue model, but otherwise identical: same mechanism, same stock shape, same smooth barrel, same caliber.
"Prepare arms!"
The front rank knelt on their right knee, ignoring the cold, their muskets still pointing toward the sky.
The second and third ranks adjusted their stance but kept their weapons raised.
"Present arms!"
All at once—or nearly so—everyone, Adam included, lowered their muskets toward the targets set one hundred and twenty meters away. Each man placed his finger on the trigger.
"Fire!"
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
A series of detonations cracked at the same moment, and a thick white cloud formed in front of them.
In the absence of wind, the powder fog hung suspended for a moment before finally beginning to disperse.
Adam was curious to see the results on the targets, but he could not go just yet. He gave his orders, and the weapons were reloaded within a reasonable time.
Very satisfied, Adam headed toward the targets, leaving the company in Lieutenant Bellemaison's care. He marched at a brisk pace, Lieutenant Marais at his side.
In the silence, their footsteps in the snow sounded incredibly loud.
"What do you think, Lieutenant?" Adam asked his subordinate without stopping or slowing down."They improve every day, sir, and they seem to work well together."
"And Lieutenant Bellemaison? Is everything going smoothly?"
"It's very pleasant to work with him, sir. He knows what he's doing. He's a very experienced man... and I believe the men respect him a great deal."
Adam nodded silently.
Good. If he's fitting in well, that's what matters. I was a bit worried, but it looks like there was no reason to be. Good, let's see the results.
They stopped in front of the large wooden targets, which vaguely resembled life-sized human figures. No details were depicted—it wasn't necessary.
Adam ran his finger over a fresh hole cleanly pierced through the figure's chest. The brightness of the wood showed it was recent, and there were no chalk markings.
Hmm, if this had been a battlefield, that one would almost certainly be dead.
The hole was somewhere between the nose and the mouth.
Adam swept his critical gaze across the targets. Few bullets had hit, but it was better than what he had seen elsewhere. The result was respectable.
His eyes lingered on the third target from the left. He raised an eyebrow and made a small grimace.
Well, if it were me, I'd rather take a bullet to the head.
"How many?" Adam asked simply, turning toward his lieutenant, who carried a clipboard with a sheet of plain paper on which several numbers were carefully recorded in a two-entry table.
"Eight hits, sir. Two more than last time, but one less than the record."
Adam nodded and placed his hands behind his back, giving the appearance of being under arrest.
"Very good. Let the men rest a little, then we'll proceed with another volley. Please mark the latest hits."
"Yes, sir."
Once that was done, the two officers returned to the soldiers, who waited silently in formation.
"Messieurs," announced Lieutenant Marais, "we counted eight hits. That's very good, considering the intensity of the previous exercises. Rest for ten minutes, then we will proceed with another shooting drill."
The ten minutes passed so quickly that the soldiers barely had time to catch their breath. Still, even a brief rest could make a big difference in real combat.
Adam inspected his musket and took position beside his men and Lieutenant Marais. Lieutenant Bellemaison was on the other side.
"Men, prepare for the exercise! Apprêtez vos armes ! En joue ! Feu ! "
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
A remarkable volley cracked through the winter silence, startling a few birds that had ventured too close.
Again, Adam went to inspect the targets, accompanied by Lieutenant Marais.
He walked slowly past the targets, careful not to miss any impact.
"Eleven hits, sir. It's a new record for the company."
Adam wanted to smile but restrained himself to maintain his image.
He nodded and watched his lieutenant record the new result on the chart.
It wasn't just a good result—it was very good, even if Adam had set a personal goal of fifteen successful shots. They would need at least that many to impress high-ranking officers like the colonel or Monsieur de Montcalm.
"Very good. I'll go say a word to them."
When Adam returned to his men, he stood facing them, straight and imposing, his expression still serious.
"Men, after this second volley, Lieutenant Marais and I went to count the impacts on your targets."
He paused briefly to give weight to what was coming next.
"I am pleased with you, soldiers."
A breath of relief passed through the ranks.
Seeing their captain's serious face, they had feared they had performed poorly.
"We counted eleven hits. You can be proud of the work you've done, because I am.This is a new record for the company, and I believe few companies could claim to match or surpass you."
Adam could clearly see smiles forming on his soldiers' faces.
"These are very good results. However, we will face enemies who are just as skilled with a musket as you are. We must therefore do even better—or at least maintain this level—even when exhausted.Here, you had ten minutes to rest, a luxury our enemies will certainly not grant us.Above all, do not slacken your efforts. Continue training with passion, and I am sure our company will become the most formidable in New France!"
An intense flame lit up in the eyes of every soldier. It burned so brightly that nothing seemed able to extinguish it.
Adam seized the opportunity.
"Messieurs, stow your bayonets and follow me! The exercise is not over yet!"