Pierre Beaumont Was sitting in the long Algonquien built house. Feeling then fire's warmth as he looked at the many indians sitting next to him in a circle. they were all smoking tabaco an indian pipe as was the custome. The few French colonial soldiers with him looked uneasy at the ceremony, probably because they were christians. No matter, a stiff look at them from his part made them fall in line with the tradition of his indian half, For Beaumont was what was called a métis, or half-breed. Both french and native, of course, if everyone knew what he REALLY was, well, he didn't even want to think about what would happen then.
"if only Bishop Laval could see me now!" thought the 25 year old looking frenchmen. Indeed, he was quite a sight! Wearing a mixture of clothing, a simple french shirt with a jacket made from bearskin, He had the pants to match. His Blue-ish green eyes hid a vivid intelligence and a loving nature. His long, dark brown hair was thrown back (germany style) and pulled into a carefully done poney-tail, it was held togheter by a blue ribbon. And just for the occasion, he had his face painted.... although he would have to wash it off before going back to Quebec, else he would have to face an hour long speech about devil worship and heressy..... again for the thousand plus times. Oh well, it kept his older brother, Francis Bonnefoy, happy and, more importantly, out of his bisness. Ever since Francis landed in North-america and started building a colonial empire, Pierre had found himself getting preached about anything the clergy didn't like, and that was over a century ago!
A few words spoken in algoquien tore the personnification of New-France out of his thoughts and back to the present. Now that tradition had been respected, the trade could take place.... furs for european made goods of all kinds.
Little Matthieu was sitting outside the house his French overlord was in. It was taking waaayyy too long for the tiny nation in the making. Yet, he knew that Pierre liked to keep an eye on him, more out of some sense love then anything else. And so, he sat there at the entrence for a few more minutes before finally coming to the conclusion that Beaumont wouldn't be mad if he simply looked around the village, right? That's what was going trough Matthie's head as he started exploring everywhere in the indian village. Well, that's until he crossed path with a particularly beautifull butterfly, no harm done in chasing a butterfly, right?
Before enyone even noticed anything, Canada was running out of the village, his tiny legs running in the tall, wild and green grass. Only secounds later, a tired looking New-France came out, a pack of furs wrapped in rope under his arm.
"Matthieu?" Said Pierre in his somewhat thick French accent. "MERDE! MAAAAATTTTHHHHIIIIEEEEEUUUUUUUU!!!!!" Shouted out the colonial empire of france. In a split secound, the furs were slung over his back and Pierre was running around with a loaded musket and a war tomahawk searching the village like a hungry wolf until he heard childish laughter. Following the sound, he saw the little toddler trying to catch the colorfull bugs.
"Matthieu! Don't ever, ever scare me like that again!" Said Beaumont as he knealed down and hugged the child.
"Désoler monsieur Beaumont." replied Canada with his tiny and quiet voice.
"there was no harm done, so all is forgiven. Just don't do it again." Smiled Pierre. "come, we need to go to New-Orlean next before heading back home to Quebec."
Little Matthieu smiled and took Pierre's hand as the two began walking side by side, followed by the french colonial troops, which were exchanging looks at the way Pierre was treating Canada. After all, he only was Matthieu's godfather, or so they were told. In fact, they didn't know much, only that he was the somebody important's half-brother and that his word was law when it came to Colonial matters. No matter, they would protect him with their lives, for this is what soldiers do.
"Come here." said Pierre As he took Matthieu in his arms and sat him on his sholders. "it's a long walk to New-Orleans, don't want you to get tired and fall behind." he continued as enjoyed the elevated postion, which allowed him to gaze at the beautifull contryside as Beaumont did all the hard work. After a long, tiring travel. thye finally reached the city busy with activity. the soldiers were barely standing, yet Pierre was even beginning to sweat and was smiling at the thought of finaly having a break from fur trading. Now, there was only one little thing left to take care off...
Alfred was following a group of british and virginian soldiers trough the woods, they were lead by a young major called George Washington. Arthur had asked him to help see trough that the french were to be expelled from the ohio valley, America was more then happy to oblige, he wanted to expend anyway. Soon, they came upon a small french camp of about 30 something soldiers and militia.
"they are here." whispered Washigton.
"i can see them too, what do we do?" asked the teenager to the slightly older major.
"don't ask me Alfred." he answered, clearly nervous.
Suddently, a twig snapped and the french began shouting orders and running for their muskets. Getting more nervouse by the secound gave the order to fire, not knowing what was about to happen next. As the hidden british soldier began firing, the french were returning fire as well, despite the protest of their superiors who were shouting at them to stop. Eventually, a bullet found it's way into Joseph Coulon de Villier de Jumonville's gut. shortly after, the retreating french were cut off by Alfred's indian friends. A french officer came to George speaking english, he could hardly be understood because of his extremely thick accent but he got his messege across. they were on a diplomatic mission and they were supposed to hand over a letter. Both George and Alfred, un-able to understand french, were trying to descifer the writting when an indian walked over to the wounded diplomat and with one great swing of his tomahawk, killed him with a strike on the head. As every englishmen looked at each other with dumbfound looks, Alfred was thinking harder then ever before and one thought was coming back with unusual redundency, "did i just start a war?".