I Reincarnated as a Prince Who Revolutionized the Kingdom

The hammering of nails, the chopping of timber, and the shouting of orders filled the air as Fort Saint-Louis came to life once more. The once-neglected outpost was now a bustling center of activity, with soldiers and engineers working tirelessly to rebuild its walls, reinforce its gates, and restore its weapon emplacements. The Elysean Expeditionary Force had wasted no time in turning what had been a forgotten relic into the first stronghold of their new conquest.

Marshal Armand Roux stood at the center of it all, watching as teams of laborers hauled supplies from the ships. Fresh lumber, barrels of gunpowder, crates of muskets, and iron reinforcements were being unloaded and taken straight into the fort. Every hour, the fort's defenses grew stronger.

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But fixing the fort was only the first step. Understanding the land was just as important.

Inside the Command Hall

Roux sat inside the fort's command hall, a crude but functional wooden structure reinforced with stone. It was sparsely furnished—just a few wooden chairs, a table, and maps of the region. In front of him stood Lieutenant Adrien Vasseur, the man who had kept Fort Saint-Louis standing despite its dire situation.

Vasseur still looked exhausted, but now, with a fresh uniform, food in his belly, and an army at his back, he was more composed than before.

Roux gestured to the chair in front of him. "Sit."

Vasseur hesitated before nodding and taking a seat. Captain Étienne Giraud stood nearby, arms crossed, listening intently.

"I need information," Roux began, tapping his fingers on the table. "We didn't sail across the ocean just to sit inside this fort. You've been here for a year. Tell me about this land."

Vasseur took a deep breath before speaking. "Pan-America is… wild. Vast forests, mountains, rivers—more land than any empire has claimed. But unlike Africa, there are no great kingdoms. Just scattered settlements, tribes, and a few foreign outposts."

Roux nodded. "And what of the native tribes?"

Vasseur's expression darkened. "There are many. Some are small, isolated groups that don't concern us. Others are larger confederations, powerful enough to control vast regions. Some of them were friendly at first, willing to trade. But when our supplies stopped coming, they lost faith in us. Others—particularly the warrior clans inland—always saw us as invaders."

Giraud smirked. "I assume we'll be dealing with them soon."

Roux ignored him and leaned forward. "Which tribes are the strongest?"

Vasseur reached for a map on the table, unrolling it. It was old and faded, but it showed what little was known of the land. He pointed to a region to the northwest.

"The Akunza Confederation is the most powerful in this region. They control the trade routes along the rivers. Their warriors are skilled—muskets, horses, and iron weapons, likely obtained from Iberian traders."

Roux frowned. "And the Europeans?"

Vasseur nodded. "The Iberians have a few forts along the coast to the south, but their presence is weak. The Britannians have their own colony further north, but they're struggling. Neither has made serious efforts to push inland. The land is too dangerous, and they lack the manpower."

Roux smirked. "Then we will succeed where they failed."

Roux tapped the map. "Tell me about the land itself. Resources, trade goods, anything of value."

Vasseur sighed. "We haven't explored much, but from what we've gathered, there's gold in the rivers, timber in the forests, and rich farmland waiting to be claimed. The problem is getting people to settle here. Right now, it's all wilderness."

Roux nodded. "That will change. We'll send for settlers from Elysea once we establish order. But first, we secure the land."

Vasseur leaned back. "Marshal, I won't lie to you. This place will not be easy to tame. The tribes are unpredictable, the land is harsh, and the other European powers—though weak—will not ignore us forever."

Roux smirked. "I don't expect it to be easy, Lieutenant. I expect it to be war."

With the information gathered, Roux laid out his immediate plan for expansion.

Fort Saint-Louis must be secured. The outer walls would be reinforced with stone and iron, watchtowers would be built, and supply lines established.

Scouting operations would begin immediately. Giraud and his cavalry would push inland, mapping the rivers, hills, and forests. They would determine where the next settlements and fortifications should be built.

Tribes would be divided and conquered. The weaker ones would be brought under Elysean rule through diplomacy or intimidation. The hostile ones would be eliminated.

European rivals would be monitored. The Albionites and Iberians were not threats yet, but that could change. Roux needed to know their movements.

That afternoon, drills began for the Fort's garrison. The thin, underfed soldiers who had once struggled to hold Saint-Louis were given proper training, discipline, and weapons.

Roux watched as the men lined up in formation, muskets at the ready. A sergeant barked orders, and volleys of gunfire rang out over the fort.

Vasseur stood beside Roux. "They'll need time."

"They don't have time," Roux said coldly. "They either become soldiers now, or they die when the fighting begins."

Giraud rode back into the fort later that evening, his cavalry detachment returning from a brief scouting mission.

"We found a few scattered villages to the west," he reported. "No warriors, just farmers. They might be useful."

Roux nodded. "Send emissaries. If they join us peacefully, they will be protected. If not…"

Giraud grinned. "Then they will burn."

Just before sundown, a scout came running into the fort. His uniform was torn, and he was out of breath.

"Marshal!" he gasped. "One of our patrols was ambushed! We lost five men!"

Roux's expression hardened. The war had already begun.

"Who?" he demanded.

"We don't know," the scout admitted. "But the attack was quick—arrows, spears, and a few muskets. The survivors said they saw war paint."

Vasseur cursed. "The Akunza Confederation."

Roux clenched his fists. "Then they have just made their first mistake."

He turned to his officers. "Prepare the men. We will send them a message they will never forget."

The following morning, Elysea's first military campaign in Pan-America was set into motion.

With 300 elite soldiers, cavalry scouts, and local guides, Roux led his first strike force inland. Their mission was clear—find the enemy, crush them, and establish Elysean dominance.