Josephine

𝓔𝓹𝓲𝓼𝓸𝓭𝓮 39: 𝓓𝓸 𝓘 𝓢𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓕𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓗𝓮𝓷𝓻𝔂 𝓗𝓾𝓭𝓼𝓸𝓷?

September 12, 1973

Nemiscau, Quebec

It had been over two months since we had departed from Val d'Or and many men had been lost since then. At least 120 men have had to be buried at the hands of Quebecois rebels. And every day they retreated further north, escaping just out of my grasp.

Following Liam's map up north, which was accurate, we had captured 50% of the Marshlands. What there was also a 50% for was whether a village let us in or we had to capture it by force.

But this... this was something different. Nemiscau had been abandoned, burned to a crisp, which left nothing for us to take or use.

And this was bad news because we were filthy, hungry, thirsty, and tired. Despite my status, being among these soldiers had resulted in me not taking a proper bath in three months, and I definitely stank like it. I was actually starting to fear for a mutiny, and that would be my death spell. If my own men revolted against me, I was a dead girl, and I would share a fate similar to Henry Hudson.

I shuddered at the mere thought of it.

"Is there anything left? Anything at all?" I asked aloud, and not to anyone in particular.

But my soldiers did answer.

"Nothing..."

The absolute dread in their voices was un-hideable.

"Except that worn down airfield, which doesn't help our situation anymore,"

My paranoia quickly exploded out of proportion when that random soldier said those words. I quickly broke down into a panic attack, falling to the soft soil below us, shaking violently, and trying my best not to cry.

"Your majesty!" A soldier shouted.

But all the fears that my soldiers might rebel against me, and possibly kill me had stockpiled up and were all flooding out of me.

"Mattéo! Can you figure out what's going on with her!?" Another demanded.

The sounds of boots trampling the dirt nearby became louder as a soldier slung his assault rifle over his shoulder. Said soldier knelt down in front of me. He was young, like all of them, and he had fierce hazel eyes that pierced mine. 

"Hey, hey, your majesty, calm down... she's having a panic attack," He said, who I'm assuming is 'Mattéo'.

"Your majesty, talk to me..."

I sniffled, but I knew in order to forge a strong bond with my troops I needed to be honest with them. Well- as honest as one can possibly be.

"I'm scared... of you..." I trembled, "That you'll mutiny... mutiny and kill me..." I spluttered out.

The men gasped in shock, almost like they were appalled.

"Why would we ever mutiny your majesty?" Mattéo asked.

"You men are starving, cold, and frankly filthy, any sensible man wouldn't be happy with those circumstances," I said, trying to prove my point.

But my soldiers would have none of it.

"Guess who else is cold, hungry, and filthy... you your majesty, if you were well fed, and pampered every day of this campaign then we'd be having a very different conversation right now, but... your suffering with us, and that is highly respectable, well... I don't know if I can speak for my compatriots here but that is what I have to say," Mattéo said.

"I agree with Mattéo!" Another soldier proclaimed.

"As do I!" Another one exclaimed.

That same response was repeated throughout the group of soldiers. I wiped my eyes with my glove and stood up.