Chapter 7: The Gathering of Legends

With chaos in the Heartland, Chief Morgan of the Canadian raiders killed his father and united the tribes, eyeing the Heartland hungrily.

Morgan’s reputation spread like wildfire, tales of his ruthlessness reaching even the farthest towns. Harrison listened to reports, eyes narrowed, planning his next move.

Harrison, worried about a repeat of Louis Banks’s 'White Mountain siege,' ordered Marcus Taylor to guard Maple Heights.

He dispatched Marcus with a handshake and a promise: “Hold the line, Marcus. The fate of Chicago depends on you.”

Meanwhile, Harrison personally led William Lee’s remnants and the Washington garrison to confront Samuel Young directly.

The march was grueling, the men weary but determined. Harrison’s presence kept spirits high, his every word a rallying cry.

Harrison knew that, since Lincoln’s reforms, over six generations, Chicago had ruled with harsh laws, and by the end of President Foster’s reign, the country was at a breaking point.

He remembered the stories told around campfires, the old grievances simmering beneath the surface. The time for change had come.

"The world has suffered under Chicago for too long" was no empty slogan.

The phrase echoed in town halls and city squares, the people yearning for relief and hope.

The descendants of the old states and the oppressed people had built up resentment for ages.

Even if President Foster hadn’t died, the current uprisings would have happened regardless.

But this was the hand he was dealt; apart from using force to quell chaos and forcibly unify the land, there was no other way.

He could only fight quickly, eliminate the warlords, then implement benevolent rule.

Counting the warlords at the end of Chicago, he found only Henry Nash and Louis Banks could be used.

Both rose from humble origins and had no deep grudge against Chicago.

But Samuel Young was different—descendant of old East Coast nobility, with aristocratic pride and the hatred of a fallen state, plus his stubborn character, making him nearly impossible to recruit.

So from the start, he decided to win over Henry Nash and Louis Banks, and strike at Samuel Young.

Fortunately, these two were soon found by Michael Taylor.

Michael arrived with news, breathless, the tension in the tent melting into relief. Harrison smiled, ready to meet the legends face to face.

Harrison met Henry Nash and Louis Banks in the army tent.

The tent was crowded, the air thick with anticipation. Harrison eyed the newcomers, sizing them up with a practiced glance.

He looked at the unimpressive, thin young man before him, unable to reconcile him with the title 'God of War.'

Henry Nash stood awkwardly, hands clasped, eyes darting around. He looked more like a grad student than a general, but Harrison sensed something deeper.

As for the disheveled man beside him, he was clearly Louis Banks.

Louis Banks wore a battered coat, boots caked with mud, his posture relaxed but alert. He greeted Harrison with a nod, the respect genuine.

"Are you Louis James?" Harrison asked.

"Louis James, constable of Silver Creek in Peoria, greets Mr. President." Louis Banks knelt and saluted.

He stole a glance as he saluted, but Harrison ignored it.

Harrison’s gaze lingered, weighing Louis’s character and ambition. The moment hung in the air, charged with possibility.

"I heard that when you saw President Foster’s tour, you said, 'A true man should be like that'—is it true?"

"President Foster is wise and mighty, what man wouldn’t aspire to be like him?" Louis Banks was startled, unsure how his boast had reached this man’s ears, but quickly responded to avoid losing his head.

Louis’s voice trembled, but his words were honest. He glanced at Harrison, hoping his answer would be enough.

Harrison laughed heartily at his answer.

His laughter filled the tent, the tension dissolving. The men around him smiled, the mood lightening.

"I know you have great ambition and are respected in Peoria. Now General Marcus Taylor is guarding Maple Heights against the raiders and needs capable help. I appoint you as General of Northland and grant you the title Marquis of Hanzburg. Take your brothers from Peoria and go to Maple Heights to show your talents against the raiders."

"Thank you, Mr. President!" Louis Banks, delighted, accepted and left the tent.

As he was leaving, Harrison teased, "Be careful at White Mountain."

Louis Banks didn’t understand, but nodded anyway.

The men chuckled, Louis grinning sheepishly as he exited, ready to prove himself on the battlefield.

After Louis Banks left, Harrison looked with interest at Henry Nash.

"You are Henry Nash, from Peoria?"

"Yes." Henry Nash saluted.

Henry’s salute was crisp, his eyes burning with quiet intensity. Harrison recognized the spark of greatness.

"Do you understand military strategy?"

Henry Nash’s eyes sparkled: "Of course."

He spoke with the certainty of a man who’d spent years studying the art of war. Harrison smiled, intrigued.

Harrison led Henry Nash to the map, briefly explained Samuel Young’s movements and Chicago’s troop deployments, then asked Henry Nash where Young’s army would go next and how he should respond.

Henry Nash studied the map for a long time, then pointed to Grand Rapids.

The room fell silent, all eyes on Nash. Harrison nodded, impressed by the young man’s insight.

Harrison smiled.

This must be the 'God of War' Henry Nash of later histories.

His thinking matched Harrison’s exactly.

"Michael! Set up the platform! I want to appoint Henry Nash as Grand General!"

Back then, Louis Banks appointed Henry Nash as general on Samuel Lane’s recommendation; how could he let Louis Banks take all the glory?

That day, Louis Banks went north, Henry Nash was appointed general!

The tent erupted in applause, the men eager for the battles to come. Harrison felt the weight of history shifting in his favor.