Part 1 Ethan

(British):
We have reached the mouth of the St. Lawrence at last. Wolfe’s scouts claim Quebec cannot be taken; cliffs that claw at the sky, walls of stone, and men who would rather die than yield. Yet His Majesty demands victory. Our orders are clear: tighten the noose until the city starves into surrender.

(French):
The English ships blot the horizon, their masts like a forest of war. Montcalm tells us they will falter before the snows come, that the river and our guns will guard the gates of New France. I nod, but when I look upon the endless sails, I feel the weight of a coming storm.

(Canadian):
From the banks we watch the enemy gather; farmers turned soldiers, defending the land that raised us. My wife and mother wait behind Quebec’s walls. We fight not for kings or crowns, but for the soil beneath our feet and the graves of our fathers.

Part 2 Ethan

(British):
At dawn, the cannons roared. Our bombardment shattered the silence and the Lower Town with it. For hours we fired until the air itself burned. The French answered weakly but with spirit. Wolfe, pale and burning with fever, whispers, “If there is no weakness to be found, then we shall carve one ourselves.”

(French):
The city shakes with every blast. The streets choke with smoke and terrified faces. Montcalm still walks the ramparts, calm as stone, but I see the doubt behind his eyes. He battles not only the English; but the clock, and the creeping despair of his people.

(Canadian):
We carry powder, bandages, and prayers to the walls. The bombardment never ends. At night, the flames from the Lower Town turn the river red. My neighbor swears God has turned His face from Quebec. I answer; perhaps He watches to see who still believes.

 

Part 3 Ethan

(British):
We tried the eastern shore, which resulted in disaster. Their defenses spat fire and iron; the Highlanders fell in rows, crimson upon the tide. Wolfe cursed the gods and his fortune, but his eyes never dimmed. “They hide behind their walls,” he said. “We will force them into the open, one way or another.”

(French):
I rode to Beauport after the assault. The beach was carpeted with British dead. Montcalm forbade pursuit; “We defend Quebec, not our pride,” he said. Yet prudence feels like fear when victory is within reach. I wonder how long wisdom can hold a sword.

(Canadian):
The marshes are thick with smoke and ghosts. We know every pool, every hidden ford; they do not. The river shields us, but still I see their endless ships across the water — and I begin to understand: they will not stop until the land itself surrenders.

 

Part 4 Matthew

(British):
Our men grow restless. Dysentery, fever — the real enemy hides in the camp, not the city. Wolfe himself is ill, yet he studies the cliffs north of Quebec. “There lies the key,” he whispers. A goat path, barely visible. Madness, perhaps… or genius.

(French):
Rumors spread that the English may attack from upriver. Montcalm says it is impossible. Still, we patrol 

(Canadian):
We are weary. My mother’s bread is made from barley and dust. The cannons never sleep. Yet the priests say, “Hold faith. The King’s ships will come.” I look to the river every day, and see only British sails.

Part 5 Matthew

(British):
At midnight we board the flatboats. Silence, no torches. The tide carries us toward a narrow cove — Anse-au-Foulon. If we can climb the cliffs before dawn, Quebec may fall before Montcalm wakes. Wolfe’s face glows pale in the moonlight; he recites Gray’s Elegy. I have never seen a man so calm before death.

(French):
A courier reports movement along the river — barges drifting in the dark. The sentries identified them as supply boats before relaying this information to me. I ride to warn the General. He nods, weary. “Let them come. They will break upon our walls.” I pray he is right.

Part 6 Matthew

(British):
Our forces gathered at the plains, in preparation for the final push. Wolfe stands before us, sword drawn. “Fire only when you see their eyes,” he commands. When the French advanced, we waited — one perfect volley, one French man downed per bullet. I saw Wolfe fall beside me, whispering, “Now, God be praised, I will die in peace.”

(French):
The British volleys tore through our defenses as if they were paper. I witnessed Montcalm struck down. His horse carried him from the field and in his dying breathes he said, “I am content, I die for my King.” Quebec stood behind us, defenseless.

(Canadian):
Smoke engulfed everything. The cries, the drums, the chaos — then silence. The French are retreating. But what of us? What will the British do with us?

Part 7 Matthew

(English):
The white flag flies above the walls, and Quebec is ours…yet victory tastes bitter — Wolfe is gone, and so many others alongside him. The city lies in ruins, with nothing to offer but sorrow and agony. 

(French)
Montcalm is buried within the walls he swore to defend. The British promise mercy, but the mysterious future yet sends shivers down my spine, powerlessly standing in the palm of my enemy, the victor.

(Canadian):
I lower my musket and kneel beside the broken stones of my old home. I await my future, uncertain where I will end up.

Part 8 Ethan

(British):
Winter comes swiftly over Quebec. The truce holds, but the city is a graveyard of stone and silence. We bury Wolfe beneath the frozen earth — our lion who never saw the spring. The King will call this victory, yet I wonder if empires ever truly win, or only endure a little longer.

(French):
The fleur-de-lis is lowered, and the cross of St. George rises in its place. The priests whisper of exile, of ships bound for France. Some stay — for what else can we do but live upon the land that remembers us? New France is gone, yet its spirit lingers like smoke after battle.

(Canadian):
Snow covers the ruins, softening what war could not. The British patrols pass through our streets, and we nod in silence. We till the same earth, draw from the same river, but everything has changed. Still, when spring comes, we will plant again — because the land does not belong to kings. It belongs to those who refuse to leave it.