The Dominion of Canada

[petey]

-- Chapter 1: The Winds of War --

A cold, autumn wind blew in across the plain from Philadelphia. John Smith paused from his harvesting and stretched up to let it cool him during the hard day's work. Not too long, though - with winter approaching, the harvest needed to be brought in and the job wasn't going to get itself done. It would be the second winter he'd spend in this border town and he knew how much the people were counting on him for their food during the long, cold months ahead.

He hefted his sickle and was about to start again when he heard the first roar of thunder. It was a low sound that boomed across the hills. Looking up at the clear, blue sky, John wondered where it was coming from - freak storms had been common in the mountains around Washington, where he'd been born, but he hadn't seen or heard of any in this part of the world.

The sound didn't fade, as a thunderclap does either, but continued to grow and come closer. To the east, a great plume of dust had arisen and was rushing towards him. John knew he should run for shelter, but he stood transfixed, unable to take his eyes off of this phenomenon.

As the dust cloud grew closer, John began to make out figures within it. A deep terror filled him, as he thought of the tales he'd heard from travellers of Aztec raiders that had pillaged the northern cities of the American Empire, or his grandfather's stories of the barbarian tribes that had once ruled the countryside. Now he was regretting his inability to run when he'd had the chance.

A group of the figures broke away from the main pack and came bounding towards him. The speed at which they crossed the land was unbelievable and John knew that even if he tried to get away, there was no way he could outrun them. He clutched his sickle tight and prayed that he'd somehow get out of this.

As the group came closer, he saw that they were mounted on horses - he'd heard of such things, but never seen it with his own eyes before. The red cloaks streaming out behind them gave their identity away; these were Mounties, the famed mounted warriors of the Dominion of Canada, which ruled the lands to the east. Fast and deadly, travellers who had seen them spoke of them with nearly the same awe as they did the great Pyramids his home of Washington. John relaxed a little, though, at least it wasn't the Aztecs, as he'd feared. After all, everyone knows Canadians are peaceful and friendly...

The Mounties slowed to a trot as they came near and spread out in a circle around him. John's hands grew sweaty as he clutched his sickle and waited for them to speak. There were ten of them, on horse and armed with long spears and wicked looking axes - he was alone, afoot, and had only his sickle. He hoped they meant him no harm.

Their leader slowly trotted forward and stopped infront of John, looking down at him with cold, hard eyes. In a stray thought, John couldn't help but think that these Canadians looked suspiciously like Iroquois.

"You are American, yes?" the Mountie asked in a brisk, clipped tone.

"Yes, sir. John Smith, sir. I work for Mayor Winston of Philadelphia. This is his field, sir. Is there some problem, sir?" John was starting to babble, he often did when he was frightened, and these Mounties were definately frightening him.

"Problem? Oh yes, I'd say there was definately a problem." the Mountie continued, as his men chuckled grimly behind him. "I am Sergeant Campbell of the Canadian Armed Forces, and I have a real problem with the Mayor of Philadelphia, as well as with the rest of his city and the damnable government that told him to build it!" His voice had risen to a shout and his eyes burned with a fiery passion as he looked down. His horse snorted and kicked, feeling its rider's angry mood.

"Sir? I don't understand. What has Philadelphia - or any of the Americans - done to you?"

"Done?" Campbell asked with a sneer. "This town of yours was built right up against Canadian lands. The people of Vancouver can smell your stench when the wind blows, and yet you ask what you've done."

"But, sir, Philadelphia was built on open land. President Lincoln sent a surveyor over to inspect it. It was empty and no Canadians were anywhere around. I don't understand why you're so angry." John was growing more frightened by the minute - this made no sense to him at all.

"You don't understand, do you?" Campbell spat back. "Well, let me explain then. You Americans have spread like a plague of locusts across the land. Every time we look up, there are more and more of you. Now that there's nowhere left for you to go, you start building your cities on our borders. Did you really expect us to believe that you would stop there? That you wouldn't keep coming and try to drive us out of our lands? That you would just peacefully sit here and bring your massive expansion to an abrupt halt? Do you take us for fools?"

John didn't know how to respond to Campbell's tirade. The man was obviously insane. America had never been anything but peaceful. The only wars they had fought had been to protect their borders from Aztec and barbarian invaders. Never had they committed any aggressive actions and he couldn't believe they ever would. The Mountie just kept staring down at him with a contemptuous glare, though, and John finally worked up the courage to speak.

"Sir, we Americans are peaceful. President Lincoln is a kind and just ruler who wishes no ill to any man. Our two peoples have been trading for years. American furs keep yours warm during the cold Canadian winters and Canadian wine is served in all our finest houses. We've lived in peace together for centuries. I'm sorry, sir, but you're wrong about us. We don't mean any harm to you. This is all some sort of terrible misunderstanding."

Campbell just laughed. It was a harsh sound, without any humor, and his men joined in with him in their circle around John. "Our wise Lord Trudeau knows the truth, Mr. Smith. He sees through the fake smiles and empty promises of your president. Yours is an evil empire and no Canadian will be safe as long as America is aloud to continue unchecked. By striking you now, we are ensuring the freedom and prosperity of our children for generations to come."

"You're mad, " John said, slowly backing away, clutching his sickle tightly in his sweating palms. "You're absolutely mad."

In a sudden act of rashness, John broke through the fear that had paralyzed him and turned to run. He had to get out of here. He had to warn his people what was coming. Philadelphia only had a token garrison, if he could get there in time, he could tell his people to run, to get away from these psychotic invaders.

Before he had taken two steps, though, Campbell barked a command to one of his men and the Mountie wheeled his horse infront of John. John swung his sickle at the man with all his strength as he charged by. It was not enough. The Mountie parried his blow with a downwards swing and kicked up, catching John square in the face with his boot. John flew backwards, hitting the ground hard. With the breath knocked out of him and spitting blood, John lay on the ground groaning in pain.

Campbell casually rode up and dismounted. "Care to try that again, American?" he asked.

John looked up at him standing over him with a contemptuous sneer on his face. "You'll ... never win" he panted out. "The American ... Empire ... will never fall ... to the likes ... of you."

Campbell just laughed. "Look over there then, " he said, pointing to the west.

It took a painful effort, but John turned his head and followed the Mountie's finger. There were plumes of smoke rising over the horizon, in the direction that Philadelphia stood. "No ... " he whispered.

"Yes, " Campbell said back. Crouching down, he leaned over John and looked him in the eye. "My brothers are taking your city now. It will be burned to the ground and every man, woman and child inside slaughtered. Then we will continue into the heart of your empire. We will sack and pillage everywhere we go. We will take your cities and make them ours. Your men will be our slaves and your women will be our toys. We will not rest until the last vestiges of your empire are ground into the dust and your name wiped from the pages of history. Our Lord Trudeau tells us that this is what you would have done to us if we had not struck first, if we had lain back and believed your President's hollow words. You will be shown what a foolish act is was to provoke us."

John laid his head back on the ground. He couldn't believe it. Philadelphia was being destroyed. He remembered coming here from Washington, with the dream of starting a new city, a new life. All the hopes and dreams of the people who came with him, wanting to build something new, something good. All gone. He was too far away to hear the screams, but he knew that his friends were dying, his city being destroyed, all that they had hoped to build being crushed by these mad invaders.

Campbell smiled at seeing the hope fade from the American's eyes. "You'll get to see it all happen, Mr. Smith. I'm going to spare your life so that you can watch your mighty empire fall." Pulling the war axe from his belt, he laid the edge across John's throat. "You work for us now."

John just closed his eyes and cried.

[PsionicMind]

Pretty good. I'm entertained. I hope theres more coming

[ElDiablo]

Good story. It really tells the story well...
But, as a Canadian, I have to say that we're more peaceful than our American neighbours, eh?
John Smith??

[pikesfan]

I'd love to see the Mountie unit and Lord Trudeau. I'm sure when the Intelligence Agency is invented, it is able to sow chaos in the enemy's realm by getting a foreign city to think it is a Distinct Society and call for a Constitutional Conference.

Don't forget the scene where Montezuma visits and Lord Trudeau does a pirouette behind his back, or the secret tapes of Catherine complaining about "that zhopa, Trudo".

[Sovy Kurosei]

"-When in doubt attack. When not in doubt, attack anyways - it's more fun"

Hehehehehe... A quote I follow closely...

I liked this story...

The Dominion of Canada... Such an evil phrase, no?

[WTE_OzWolf]

Boy...am I looking forward to this one...

[petey]

Originally posted by Sovy Kurosei
The Dominion of Canada... Such an evil phrase, no?

Ya, I remember learning in school that that was the official name of Canada and I always thought it sounded quite menacing for such a peaceful country.

I'll continue the story later today...

[petey]

-- Chapter 2: The White House --

"Quite a comfortable chair, the man had, " General Lewis Mackenzie thought as he sat behind the desk in the Oval Office. The Supreme Commander of the Canadian Armed Forces needed some time off his feet; though early, it had already been a long day, and it was only going to get longer. Since riding into the conquered city of Washington a week ago, he had scarcely had a moment to himself. The American President's private study was a nice place to relax, and the view couldn't be beat.

Off the balcony to the east, the rising sun shone of the tops of the massive Pyramids, huge monuments that dwarfed the city that had built them and could be seen for miles across the vast grasslands that had once been the American heartland. Now the red uniforms of Canadian soldiers rode amongst the Pyramids and the land beyond was ruled by his Mounties. It had been a long, hard road to get here; much longer than any of them had thought it would be...

Mackenzie remembered when it had began, years ago, when he had knelt before Lord Trudeau in the Great Temple of Ottawa and had his head anointed with holy oils to bless him as he set forth on this campaign. The Temple was an ancient place, its history dating back to the dawn of the Canadian people. It had been built to honour old gods, their names lost to memory, with new ones taking their places and their temples to guide and protect the Canadian race. He had no time for gods, old or new. They may rule the next world, where all men end up eventually, where for too many of his men had been sent over these past years, but his place was in this world; he would deal with it and leave the gods to their's.

Lord Trudeau did not see things the same way, though. To him, the gods were all too much of a concern.

"They have spoken to me, General, " Trudeau had said, in what now seemed so long ago. "They have shown me a vision of what is to come. This American expansion will not end at our borders. They will keep coming, they will never stop. I have seen their armies in our cities, our citizens in chains, our temples and palaces torn down and monuments to the false American gods raised in their place. The gods have shown me that all this will come to pass, unless we act first."

"What would you have me do, my Lord?" he had asked.

"We must strike at them before they get the chance, General. The war between our two peoples is inevitable. The gods have shown me this to be true and we mortals can do nothing to prevent it. Rather than wait here like lambs for the slaughter, we will take the war to them and destroy the Americans before they can destroy us. Their people are soft and weak and will fall before us with little resistance. The vision the gods have granted me tells me that this will not always be so, though. They must be crushed before they have the strength to come at us."

Mackenzie didn't know much about divine visions. If the gods did speak to men, they had never spoken to him. He was a soldier, though, his place was to serve, not to question. So he had gathered his armies and headed west into the American Empire. At first, the invasion had gone as planned; his Mounties swarmed into the border cities and burnt them to the ground, their populations put to the sword. The resistance they encountered was quickly dispatched and the Canadian Forces rode deep into American territory, leaving nothing but destruction behind them. Then had come Boston.

The American border cities had been small and of no use, so they were razed as an example of what happens to those who would challenge the Dominion of Canada. The rich cities of the American heartland, on the other hand, were prizes Trudeau wished to keep, to conquer and rule. At Boston, although the city had put up a stiffer resistance than his forces had encountered before, it fell quickly enough, but that's when things started to go wrong.

Scouts had told him of American soldiers in the hills surrounding the city, so Mackenzie sent his troops of his Mounties out to finish them off, so he could move unopposed onto Chicago. Few of them returned. Those that did told of a terrible new weapon the Americans were wielding, a longbow of incredible power and range. In the hills and forests that surrounded the city, his Mounties superior speed was negated and the Americans knew the land too well. They came out of caves and forest hideouts and cut into his soldiers from all directions. If his Mounties charged, the rain of arrows lost them too many men and they were too weakened by the time their American foes. If they retreated, they ran into another force that had materialized out of the ground behind them. His mighty invasion came to a halt.

Overconfident as a result of his early victories, Mackenzie had led his Mounties on as quickly as they could ride, leaving the rest of his forces to catch up as they could. With no good defensive foot soldiers to back them up, his horse could not deal with the guerilla tactics being employed by the American longbowmen. Mackenzie was forced to change his tactics to adapt to this new American resistance. Although ultimately successful, it caused this war to drag on for as long as it has and cost the lives of so many of his men.

Calling back his troops from the hills and into the city of Boston, Mackenzie commanded them to defend the city and leave the countryside to the American forces. They only direction his Mounties rode was to the east, to clear the way for the Canadian foot soldiers who were following behind. Aside from a few sorties to keep the Americans off balance and the odd lucky break when a division of longbowmen were caught in open plains where the Mounties could ride them down, he let the Americans command the countryside around Boston for an entire winter.

When the spring finally came, the Canadian army was ready to begin its attack anew. Instead of riding out alone, the Mounties went forth with divisions of sword and spearmen to back them up. When the longbowmen attacked, the foot soldiers large shields blunted the effectiveness of their arrows - though not enough to prevent terrible losses - and the Mounties were able to sweep in and overrun their positions. Using these tactics, the American forces were driven back, and the Canadians surged forward.

Chicago, Seattle and Denver all fell before him. It was not easy, but the tide had turned his way and his army kept moving forward. Fearing that the Americans would try to outflank him, Mackenzie split his forces. He put General Glover in charge of a large assault force and sent him south to take Miami, and then the smaller cities that lined the tundra and forest around the South Sea. His main assault force he brought with him and charged on towards Washington. The Americans had massed their defenses to defend their capital and they fought hard to protect it. After long months of bloody battle, though, his army broke through and the city fell to his forces.

"And now I sit in their palace, " Mackenzie thought as he watched the beautiful sight of the sun rising over the Pyramids. "I wonder if this has been worth the lives of so many of my brave men?" He knew what Lord Trudeau's answer would be, that any sacrifice was worth it if it was for the glory of the Dominion of Canada. That being the case, he had no choice but to go on.

A knock on the door interrupted his reverie and one of his aides poked his head through the door.

"General, they have the prisoner ready." he was told.

"Very well, " Mackenzie replied, "I'm on my way."

Taking a deep breath and one last look at his view of the Pyramids, he got up and left the Oval Office. His officers were already assembled in the hallway outside and they fell in behind him as he made his way towards the courtyard.

"What is the report from the field?" he asked as they walked.

"Pittsburgh has fallen, General, " one of the officers replied. Mackenzie had forgotten the man's name. "Our forces are nearing New York and we anticipate that it will be ours by month's end. General Glover has sent word that he has taken New Orleans and is moving west along the coast of the South Sea, meeting little resistance. Our projections are that all American terriory east of the Rocky Mountains will belong to us by the end of the year, sir."

"East of the Rockies ... very good. What of to the west? Is the boy still making his show of resistance?" The Americans still had a lot of territory and cities in the west and he would be hard pressed to win his way across the mountains. If he could choose, he would end his advance here and let the Americans keep the west. He didn't even bother sending that request back to Ottawa for Lord Trudeau to consider, he knew what the answer would be. He had no choice but to press on until the Americans were no more.

"Troops are rallying to him, General, " another answered. "They still have significant forces and their longbowmen are guarding all the mountain passes. The Rockies will not be easy to cross."

"Hold our troops here for the winter, " he commanded. "If the east will be ours this year, then we will wait until we can send all our forces through at once and try and smash through this wall they're building in the mountains next spring." It was an unbelievable thought, by the year's end, the Dominion of Canada would spread from the Appalacian Mountains that bordered Germany in the east to the Rocky Mountains in the west, from the South Sea all the way north to the Aztec Empire - a full third of a continent belonging to them. Maybe soon, Lord Trudeau would believe their people would be safe and let his soldiers stop dying.

"Yes, sir. Now to the matter of the captured cities. When not in outright resistance against us, the people are doing everything they can to impede whatever industry we can manage to get producing in these places. When we do get things going, I have reason to believe that the governors we've put in charge are stealing as much as they can and leaving little left over."

"Well, those governors are a long way from Ottawa, Captain" Mackenzie said. "Lord Trudeau shares your concerns, though, and I recieved a communique from him yesterday regarding this very matter. General Gretzsky, walk beside me."

The young general stepped forward and fell in beside Mackenzie as they descended the long staircase that led to the main courtyard. The man had been one of the pleasant surprises of the war. He was Lord Trudeau's nephew and when they had set out from Ottawa, Mackenzie had been ordered to make the boy a general and let him have a taste of command. Mackenzie hated neopotism, he believed that a man should get what he earns in life, not what he's given. but when Lord Trudeau says that a man is a general, he becomes a general, regardless of what he deserves.

Mackenzie had put Gretzsky in charge of whatever dangerous missions had come along, hoping a noble death in battle would fulfill his uncle's hopes for him, and quickly rid the Canadian army of an inept officer before he caused the deaths of too many soldiers. Contrary to what he expected, though, Gretzsky had risen to the challenge, winning battle after battle on what were supposed to be suicide missions. Even in the dark days around Boston, Gretzsky won most of the few victories they managed to eke out.

It was during the battle for Washington that he had truly shone, though. The Americans had broken through the Canadian ranks and were advancing forwards. Gretzsky had rallied the troops and led a counter assault that drove back the American advance and it was that counter strike that eventually charged through the city gates. Mackenzie believed that the man the troops had taken to calling 'the Great One' would go down in history as one of the premier leaders in Canadian history.

"Lord Trudeau has a new task for you. When we ride west next spring, you will remain here in Washington as governor. He wants you to make this White House a second palace and rule the conquered American territories in his name. It will be your job to control the conquered territories and make these cities productive members of the Dominion of Canada."

"Governor?" Gretzsky spat out. "I'm a soldier, Lewis, not a politician! I want to fight." As Lord Trudeau's nephew, Gretzsky was the only man on this campaign who called Mackenzie by his first name. He didn't mind, though, he liked the lad as much as everyone else did, and he certainly earned the right through his victories in the field. "Give me an army, " Gretzsky continued, " and I'll cut my way through the Rockies and spike this young upstart's head on the gates of Atlanta."

"Calm yourself, Wayne, " Mackenzie said. "Try and take a look at the big picture. You've proven yourself in battle time after time. The troops respect you and the people love you. Lord Trudeau is getting old and it's common enough knowledge that he considers his sons to be weak and unfit to follow after him. Now he asks you to take charge of what is now half of his empire. He means to make you his heir, my friend. Succeed in this and you could find yourself ruling after him."

Gretzsky was silent as he contemplated what Mackenzie had told him and the rest of the officers looked at the young general with an awed silence; they all knew he would go far, but none of them had considered that he would go this far. Finally Gretzsky spoke: "I had not seen it that way. My cousins will not be happy if things turn out that way."

Mackenzie gave a short laugh. "A man in your position must learn to see things in every way, Wayne. And I've met you cousins. They're rarely happy about anything. Besides, would you really want to see one of them on the throne?"

Normally, it would be death to talk about Lord Trudeau's family that way. Mackenzie wasn't worried about one of the other officers betraying this conversation, though. He trusted their loyalty absolutely; if he didn't, they wouldn't be in this crowd. He also knew that if it came down to a power struggle between Gretzsky and one of Trudeau's sons, these officers, and the rest of the army, would stand with his young friend.

Gretzsky glanced back at them nervously, though, and one spoke up. "When we rode forth from Ottawa, sir, Lord Trudeau's sons remained safe in the capital. You came with us and led us into battle. Your valour on the field gave us many victories and saved the lives of many of our soldiers, myself included. I am with you, sir." The rest of the officers echoed with their assent and Mackenzie nodded approvingly at the officer.

Gretzsky looked at Mackenzie with a smile on his face. "I'll have this place up and running as our second palace immediately, Lewis." He strode ahead, looking every inch a king.

With his officers beside him, Mackenzie entered the White House's main courtyard for what would be the major business of the day. Taking a seat in the center of the large pavillion there, he commanded his soldiers to bring out the prisoner.

Flanked by a half-dozen swordsmen, President Lincoln entered the courtyard. He calmly walked forward with his head held high, the soldiers around him looking like an honour guard instead of captors. He was dressed well and had been taken care of, as befitted a man of his position, even when that man was a prisoner whose people lay defeated. He walked to the pavillion and looked Mackenzie straight in the eye. If the man was afraid, Mackenzie couldn't see it and despite everything, he couldn't help but admire the strength of this man.

"Shall we proceed with this farce of a trial then, General?" the President asked. No fear at all. Mackenzie always liked a man who could face his fate and not cringe.

"President Lincoln, " he began, "you are charged with conspiring to wage war against the Dominion of Canada and as a result of that action, forcing our preemptive strike, causing tens of thousands of deaths of both the Canadian and American people. How do you plead?"

"Does it matter how I plead?" Loncoln asked.

"No, not particularly."

"Then get on with it. I do not desire to wait."

"Very well, " Mackenzie said. He liked this man. It really was a pity. "President Lincoln, I find you guilty on all charges. By the power invested in me by our Great Lord Pierre Trudeau, I sentence you to death. This sentence to be carried out immediately. Do you have any last words?"

"My last words?" Lincoln began. "My last words are that the American people will never surrender to the likes of you. We committed no aggressive action towards you and your invasion was completely unprovoked. All the deaths that have occured are on your head, General, yours and your Lord Trudeau's. You may have taken our capital, but our empire lives on, and you will never have victory over us."

"Ah, yes, " Mackenzie said. "You refer to your son declaring Atlanta the new capital and calling what's left of your army there. He'll soon be dealt with, just as we have with you."

"So long as one American is left alive, we'll never give in." Licoln stood with his head held high, defiant to the end. "Bring on your headsman and end this farce."

"Well, Mr. President, our Lord Trudeau has something else in mind for you. Due to the high number of Canadian casualties at the hands of your longbowmen, he felt it was only fitting that you should die the same way. Corporal Boothe, if you would." Mackenzie motioned for the executioner to come forward.

Corporal John Wilkes Boothe was the best bowman in the Canadian army and had been given the honour of carrying out the sentence today.

"This will not end here, General, " Lincoln shouted. "Your people will learn to rue this day!"

Mackenzie signalled the executioner to proceed. He stepped forwards and drew back his longbow.

"Semper fie, " Boothe said as he shot President Lincoln in the head.

[petey]

Oops

In the last line of the story, it should of course read:

"Sic semper tyrannis!" " Boothe said as he shot President Lincoln in the head.

"Sic semper tyrannis!" means "Thus always to tyrants!" and is what John Wilkes Boothe said when he shot President Lincoln.

"Semper fie" is the motto of the Marines. Please forgive the mistake and don't mock me for being an ignorant dolt.

[Arrian]

Always thought those Mounty uniforms were a bit sinister... red coats... did we fight red coats once? And don't overlook the cultural warfare they use - you think curling is cute? Think again!



Funny story, much funnier than my gibberish in this post.

-Arrian

[petey]

-- Chapter 3: The Victory Parade --

The trumpets blared, their sound echoing through the streets of Ottawa as the procession began to move towards the city. The streets along the parade route were packed twenty people deep as citizens had travelled from all corners of the empire to see the victorious army return home to the Canadian capital. Guardsmen were out in force, using the butts of their spears to hold back anyone who tried to lean too far into the street to get a better view. Lord Trudeau had demanded an orderly parade, and they would do what was necessary to give him one.

As General Mackenzie led the parade through the city gates, the crowd roared in approval of the conquering hero. He felt the sound wash over him and a smile came to his face as he entered his city after so many years away. "Finally, it's over." he thought as he rode through the streets towards the palace. "Finally, I'm home."

He looked around him at the glowing faces of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. As was tradition in the Canadian army, the male offspring of the soldiers could ride with them in the parade, as well as the sons of those who had fallen. "None of my sons, though, " Mackenzie thought. They were all in their graves now. He had once had three. Little Jonathon had died of a fever when he was three; so long ago, but he could still remember the child's face. His other two had lived long enough to follow him to this war, but not to follow him home. Edward had fallen with so many others around Boston and Noel had perished in the long fight through the Rocky Mountains. Of his five grandsons who had been old enough to ride into battle, two were dead, Kirk and Patrick, the other three remained in the west to guard Lord Trudeau's new holdings. The younger ones who had stayed safe at home with his daughters and granddaughters rode beside him now. Looking at his family reminded him of his beautiful wife, Marie, dead so many years now. "Perhaps now, the death can finally stop. Perhaps my people will be allowed to live."

After the fall of Washington, Mackenzie had hoped that the war would get easier. What had once been the eastern half of the American Empire fell quickly enough. The people had fought hard enough, but cut off from the support of the western cities, they could only hold out for so long against his forces. Massing his troops in Washington, he led them into the forbidding Rockies when the spring broke, and the American troops that waited for them there. The Americans knew the mountain passes well and them defended them like lions. Every assault was beaten back and every tactic countered. Once they even slipped some forces past his troops and might have retaken New York, if not for the fortuitous arrival of fresh troops from the east that were able to cut them off and beat them back. Winter came again while they were still in those damnable mountains and he couldn't begin to guess how many thousands of his men froze to death that year.

In the end, though, numbers made the difference. Lord Trudeau kept sending men west, to bolster his army. The Americans made a valiant resistance, but bit by bit, they were overwhelmed. In the first days of summer, Mackenzie rode on the new capital of Atlanta. They attacked at dawn, riding down from the hlls towards the city, and the war was decided on that day. The defenders fought hard, but their strength had been sapped by the long war through the Rockies as much as his had; they could not stand long. By nightfall, his men were battling through the streets of the city and by the next evening, it belonged to him. He considered burning Atlanta to the ground, but felt that these Americans had been through enough.

The former President Lincoln's son had the command of the city and Mackenzie had expected him to stay with his people and meet his fate with the same dignity and resolve that his father had. The son was not the father, however. When the battle began to go against his troops, the younger Lincoln had fled, leaving his men without a leader. That was when the resistance fell apart and that's when Atlanta fell to the Canadians.

After that, the American army fell apart. Soldiers wouldn't rally around Lincoln after he ran from battle, leaving his men to be slaughtered. As the Canadian Forces moved forward, the cities they encountered were left to fend for themselves and there was no organized defence to repel their advance. At this point, things went from bad to worse for the citiznes of this once great empire. Many of them fled to the north, hoping to find some refuge there. Unfortunately, the safety they sought there was not to be.

The Aztec people, ever ready to fall upon those they see to be weak, rode down from their empire to the north and fell upon the fleeing refugees. They didn't come to conquer, only to destroy. The Americans made easy targets and the Aztecs cut them down and burned their cities as they came through. They knew better than to try themselves against the Canadian Forces and ran from the field whenever his Mounties encountered them.

Against the two-pronged attack from both the Canadian and Aztec forces, the Americans were destroyed. He ordered his men to accept the surrender of any American troops that requested it, and moved on to take the rest of their territory. Cleveland, on the shores of the Great Western Ocean, fell with little resistance, and when he took his men north along the shore to Los Angeles, with Aztec raiders closing in on the city, they had opened the gates and surrendered to him. The once proud American Empire was no more.

As for the new President Lincoln, Mackenzie never saw him after Atlanta. His people wouldn't stand by him after his disgrace in battle and he had nothing to do but run. In Los Angeles, Mackenzie was told that he had taken a ship with the few that would still follow him and sailed off into the night. None of them knew where he had gone, and Mackenzie didn't care. The man was weak and incompetent and he ruled nothing but a boat. He could sail off and fade quietly from history; he wasn't the sort of person worth chasing after.

So the long war had finally ended. The Aztecs retreated back to the safety of their cities when there were no more Americans to slaughter and he had taken his forces and returned home. Countless thousands had died, the continent bathed in blood for years on end; but he had won and so the people cheered him as he rode through the streets of Ottawa.

The winding parade route at last ended at the palace with the assembled dignitaries awaiting him to congratulate him on hos victory. At their head stood Governor Gretszky. He had proved to be as talented an administrator as he was a soldier and the American cities under his command were productive and firmly under control. Lord Trudeau had officially named him his heir, much to the chagrin of Trudeau's children, who were also on the stage.

As Mackenzie dismounted infront of the palace, Gretszky came down to meet him. "Well met, my friend." he said. "On behalf of the Dominion of Canada, I congratulate you on your great successes in this noble war. Our people salute you and give you our love on your return home" The man had certainly learnt diplomatic speech in his time as a governor, Mackenzie thought.

"Thank you, Governor Gretszky, " Mackenzie replied. "But, where is our Lord Trudeau? I had expected him to be here."

"My uncle is not well, and the priests felt he should not leave his bedchamber today. He asks that you attend him once the ceremonies are completed."

Mackenzie nodded and Gretszky signalled for the officials to begin. It was a long ceremony, as such things always seem to be, and Mackenzie felt tired and sore from standing around so long. "I really am getting old, " he thought to himself. When he spoke to Lord Trudeau later, he would ask for permission to retire. He'd had enough of life as a soldier and wanted to spend his remaining days at home, playing with his grandchildren.

Finally, though, it was over. An attendant led Mackenzie upstairs to the room in which Lord Trudeau awaited him. As he entered, he saw a frail man, asleep in his chair. "The years have definately not been kind to him, " he thought. When he rode off to war, Trudeau had been a large, healthy man, despite his years. Age had caught up to him, though, and he seemed only a shadow of who he once was.

Mackenzie walked up and touched him on the shoulder, gently shaking him awake. The old man stirred and looked up, blinking with eyes that could no longer properly focus.

"Ah, Mackenzie, " he finally said. "You're back. I thought I sent you off to war."

"You did, my lord." Mackenzie replied. "It is done. The American Empire is no more and it's people scattered to the wind or under or control."

"Yes, yes, I remember now. I understand you let their President escape, though. Ill done, that. I've met the man. He's strong and will not give in. We'll have more trouble from that one, I can tell you." Trudeau coughed, and pulled his blanket tighter around him.

"The man you met is dead, my lord." Mackenzie explained. "I had him executed in Washington, as you commanded me to. The man who escaped is his son, and nothing like the father. He is weak and alone. His people do not love him and he has fled far away. We have nothing to fear from that one."

"Yes, I remember now. The boy ran from battle in one of those cities of theirs. He is of no consequence, none of them are now." The old man leaned forward and grasped Mackenzie's arm with a withered hand. He looked up and his eyes began to burn with some of the fire they had in the past. "The gods came to me again, Mackenzie. Once more, they showed me what is to be. The visions they gave me before shall not come to pass, thanks to your good works. Our people no longer need to live in fear. They showed me a shining city on a hill, which they called Canada, a beacon of light to the world. We shall flourish and prosper and our future is secure. They tell me that you have given this to us and you have my thanks." Trudeau coughed and sank back into his chair.

"Leave me now, " he said. "I need to sleep. We will talk again later."

Mackenzie bowed and backed out of the room. He never saw Lord Trudeau again in life.

Governor Gretszky was waiting in the hallway outside. "He doesn't have long left, does he?" the young man asked.

"No, Wayne, he does not. Soon, all this will fall to you."

"His children do not like that. They waited a long time for him to die so that they could rule. Now that he has grown old and weak, he names me to follow after him. They will not accept this lying down."

"The army stands with you, Wayne, " Mackenzie said. "As do the people. Since he has named you his heir, the law stands with you as well. They will fight you for the right to rule, but they will lose."

"Do you stand with me as well, Lewis?" Gretszky asked. "With you by my side, no man would dare lift his hand to oppose me."

Mackenzie barked a laugh. "I'm old, Wayne. My time of fighting is done. I've had enough of it and want no part of any more battles. This fight is yours, not mine."

He started to walk away, but Gretszky grabbed his arm and held him back. "The Trudeau name still has a lot of power in Canada and there are many who will stand behind them. Maybe I'll win in the end without you, but with you beside me, they will not be able to draw as many to their cause. The fighting will be no be as fierce and less of our people will die."

"And isn't that what I've always wanted?" Mackenzie thought to himself. He saw the truth in what Gretszky was saying, and knew he could not stand aside. "Very well, my friend, I am with you, " he said aloud. "Lord Trudeau will be gone soon and we must begin to plan so that you can take his place."

With that the two men walked away towards their destiny.

[Samuel Johnson]

Great story - I missed it the first time through and now I'm just procrastinating in the archives. Will there be a conclusion or is that the end? I expected President Lincoln, Jr., to washup on the shores of Hawaii and spend his days being fed poi and seaweed by the natives.

[johncmcleod]

great story. You should make a sequel- Lincoln's son comes back to the continent a braver and stronger man with a large army comitted to the killing of every Canadian.

[ChaotikVisions]

Heh, great story, makes me want to edit one of the Civs into Canada, so I can destroy them. :P I wouldn't pay attention to the votes against the story, anyone not illiterate can tell its good, probably people who just don't like Canada destroying America.