I Reincarnated as a Prince Who Revolutionized the Kingdom

February 1697 .

After three grueling months at sea, the Elysean Expeditionary Force finally spotted land. The coast of Pan-America stretched before them—a vast, untamed land of dense forests, rolling hills, and winding rivers. But their destination was not the wilderness.

Their fleet was headed for Fort Saint-Louis, the only known Elysean settlement in the region. It was supposed to be their foothold on the continent, a functioning outpost that would serve as their staging ground for expansion.

But as their warships approached, something felt off.

First Sight of the Fort

Marshal Armand Roux stood at the bow of the lead ship, his eyes narrowing as he examined the fort through his spyglass. The wooden walls were intact, but there was no movement—no sign of soldiers on the watchtowers, no patrols along the walls. The fort's flag, though still present, hung limp and faded.

Beside him, Captain Étienne Giraud frowned. "It doesn't look abandoned, but it doesn't look well-maintained either."

Roux lowered the spyglass. "Something isn't right."

The ships slowed as they neared the shoreline, their sails lowering. Cannons remained primed, and soldiers stood ready on deck, muskets loaded.

Then, as if sensing their presence, a single cannon fired from the fort.

The shot missed entirely, splashing harmlessly into the water.

A Misunderstanding

The Elysean fleet immediately prepared for combat. Officers barked orders, men rushed to battle positions, and the cannons were aimed at the fort. But before Roux could give the order to return fire, a small rowboat emerged from the fort's dock, making its way toward them.

Through the spyglass, Roux could see Elysean uniforms.

"Hold fire," Roux ordered.

A few minutes later, the rowboat reached them, and a ragged-looking officer climbed aboard. His uniform was faded, his boots were worn, and his face was lined with exhaustion. He snapped into a salute despite his disheveled appearance.

"Lieutenant Adrien Vasseur, commanding officer of Fort Saint-Louis!" The man's voice was hoarse.

Roux studied him carefully. "Your fort just fired on us."

Vasseur looked embarrassed. "That was… a mistake. We had no idea what was happening. No word from the mainland in nearly a year, and when we saw an entire fleet, we feared the worst."

Giraud scoffed. "You thought we were here to invade our own fort?"

Vasseur straightened. "For all we knew, the fort had been forgotten. We've been left on our own, with dwindling supplies and no reinforcements."

Roux exhaled, glancing back at the fort. He had expected an organized outpost, but this was turning into a liability.

"We'll discuss the state of your fort soon," Roux said. "For now, tell your men to stand down. We are taking over."

Vasseur hesitated but nodded. "Yes, Marshal."

By the afternoon, the fleet had docked, and the soldiers disembarked. Fort Saint-Louis, though still standing, was in a state of disrepair. The wooden palisades were rotting in places, the cannon emplacements rusted, and the supply stores nearly empty.

The garrison was in no better condition. The remaining 200 soldiers were thin, underfed, and poorly equipped. Most of them had never seen battle, and the few that had looked exhausted.

As Roux walked through the fort, his frustration grew.

"This place is a disgrace," he muttered.

Giraud nodded. "If this was supposed to be Elysea's stronghold in Pan-America, it's no wonder no one took us seriously here."

Inside the fort's main hall, Roux sat at a wooden table with Vasseur, his officers, and representatives of the existing garrison. A map of the surrounding land was spread out before them.

"I want answers," Roux said. "How did this fort fall into such neglect?"

Vasseur sighed. "We were supposed to receive supply shipments every six months, but after the last one never arrived, we realized something was wrong. We sent a ship back to Elysea to request reinforcements, but it never returned."

Roux frowned. "And the native tribes?"

Vasseur's face darkened. "At first, we maintained decent relations with the local tribes. We traded, and some even saw us as useful allies. But when supplies started running low, tensions rose. Some tribes began raiding our outposts, taking what little we had left."

Roux exchanged glances with Giraud.

"So you've been cut off, under constant threat, and barely surviving," Roux summarized.

Vasseur nodded grimly. "Yes, Marshal. We held the fort, but just barely."

Roux leaned back in his chair, thinking. This was worse than he had expected. The fort was not a stronghold—it was a forgotten relic. It had no strategic value in its current state.

But it could be rebuilt.

"From this moment on," Roux declared, "Fort Saint-Louis is the headquarters of the Elysean expansion in Pan-America. We will restore order, build new fortifications, and expand our presence."

He turned to Vasseur. "You will remain in command of the fort's existing garrison. You will assist our engineers in rebuilding and oversee recruitment from the local settlers." Discover more content at My Virtual Library Empire

Vasseur's eyes widened. "You mean… we're not being replaced?"

"You're being reinforced," Roux corrected. "But you are expected to perform now that you have the resources to do so."

Vasseur straightened. "Yes, Marshal!"

Roux then turned to Giraud. "Take a detachment of cavalry and scout the surrounding region. Find out which tribes are hostile and which ones can be turned into allies. If we are to expand, we need intelligence."

Giraud smirked. "Finally, something to do."

Lastly, Roux addressed the entire assembly.

"We are not here to struggle. We are here to conquer. Within the year, I want new settlements, strongholds, and roads leading inland. Pan-America will belong to Elysea, and this fort is only the beginning."

The officers saluted. The mood in the fort had shifted from hopelessness to purpose.

Roux looked around one last time. There was work to be done.

But soon, Elysea would rule the West.

The next morning, the reconstruction of Fort Saint-Louis began. Soldiers and engineers worked tirelessly, tearing down rotting wooden palisades and replacing them with sturdier logs. Cannon emplacements were repaired, and stockpiles of gunpowder and ammunition were restocked from the fleet's supplies.

Roux personally inspected every aspect of the fort, ensuring that it would no longer be a symbol of neglect but a bastion of Elysean power in Pan-America. The barracks were reinforced, food rations were distributed, and officers were assigned to train the garrisoned troops into a force worthy of the empire.

Meanwhile, Giraud and his cavalry detachment rode out into the wilderness, seeking intelligence on the surrounding tribes and foreign settlements. Roux knew that the fort alone would not be enough—Elysea needed to expand further inland.

As he stood atop the fort's main watchtower, overseeing the renewed activity, Roux allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction.

Elysea had finally arrived in Pan-America.

And this time, they would not be forgotten.