Prologue, Part III
November 26th, 1826
Trois-Rivières, Protectorate of the Empire of the French in Quebec
The battle was not going well. Trois-Rivières had fallen to the New Grand Army rather early in the revolution. But the Protectorate Guard had recognized its strategic importance and had launched a large attack against it. The two armies had met just outside the city, but the Protectorate Guard's larger numbers had threatened to encircle the New Grand Army forces, and Napoleon II was forced to retreat into the city itself, and he and some of his other men were in a church near the outskirts of town.
The crack of gunfire erupted from the city outskirts as the Protectorate Guard advanced. Lieutenant Mitchell assembled his troops and was prepared to launch an attack. He heard whispers of dissent, however. This was far from uncommon. The Protectorate Guard was small, far too small to deal with this general uprising, so they resorted to picking up the less openly defiant men at the towns they passed, as well as any supplies they needed. They were still some threat, though, so they were generally sent in first, as if they decided to switch sides they could be easily shot down. The officers assigned to these units generally resented their posting, as there was little honor or recognition given to them. Mitchell himself was a little disgruntled.
A runner came over to the Lieutenant, gasping for breath. "Sir, we are to hold our attack for now; an artillery unit is incoming to help us."
"Excellent, that is just what we needed, they're fairly well hidden. And the son of the Corsican is in there, we might be able to end this right here and now!"
Mitchell's troops arranged in ranks and awaited the bombardment.