[center][img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/80589065/Random/CoA_of_Cascadia.png[/img]
[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WL0GzdfTwAA][b]Peace Rules Us![/b][/url][/center]

[center][img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/80589065/Random/stumptown.jpg[/img]
[i]Portland, Oregon.[/i][/center]

Debate raged on within the Senate of the Cascades. Since the beginning of the Hochins administration little work had been done in officially colonizing and settling the British Columbian territory under Cascadian hands. The fact that scavengers and bandit gangs still had free reign over Vancouver led to political travesty for the Progressive faction of the Senate. However, a schism over the 'BC Crisis' was taking place within the conservative faction as well.

All conservative elements agreed that the overall colonization effort had failed under progressive policies, however Conservatives had long argued over how the issue would be resolved if a Conservative reached the Presidential Manor. The majority isolationist conservatives argued that the Republic would do best economically and militarily to simply pull out of the colonization effort and instead look to the more stable Idaho for expansion. The militarists, however, argued the plan should be continued under new military management, stating that the gangs would be put against the wall and scavengers sent away while the Republic's flag flew high over a 'new Vancouver'. 

Within the Progressive circle the blame fell predominantly upon the lack of motivation the administration seemed to hold over British Columbia, with many Progressivists even supporting the hardline conservatives on more direct action in restoring Vancouver to her formerly glory. Thus, when the time came for a decision, it came as no surprise when the militarist elements of both parties won the majority vote on the issue. 

Within a week after the vote, two Cascadian Frontier Battalions left Seattle on direct orders from High Command with the goal of 'putting down' Vancouver.

[center][img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/80589065/Random/ww1-lighthorse-at-beersheba-leonie-bell.jpg[/img]
[i]Painting by Thomas Brown, 'The Cascadian Cavalryman'.[/i][/center]

[b]Outer Vancouver, British Columbia[/b]

"You ever been this far north boy?"

Hamilton looked up from his can of what could only be described as 'brown meat' to look to the man who addressed him. He didn't know his name but he'd seen him before, a cavalryman in the 4th Riders Regiment.

"No, you?"

"Mhm, plenty of times." The Cavalryman replied, taking a long drag from his cigarette and looking away from the campfire into the darkness. "Vancouver's an ugly place. The old men in Seattle say once upon a time it was a huge city, fancy, like in the pictures."

"You believe'em?"

"I do. You gotta trust the words of the old timers. Not too many people are still around from the before times, the ones who did see before are just about gone. You know any old timers?"

Hamilton shook his head. He hadn't directly met anyone from before the war but he had seen some. Their skin a pale white and their hair usually matted and falling out each passing day. The elderly always reminded him of the election posters he'd seen of Nathaniel Birch in Portland, though Birch looked cleaner than most of the old people he'd seen in person.

"Shame, they got some neat stories if you ever stop to listen... When I was in hospice for a leg injury I got during a skirmish on the Idaho border an old woman was my attending nurse. Medics like her are a rarity now-a-days, hell, Medics in general are a rarity. Sweet little lady, tended to my leg like I was made a' glass. Wonder whatever came of her."

The cavalryman fell silent and his head fell downward, his eyes staring absently into the flames. Hamilton finished the last few bites of his meal and tossed the can out into the darkness, the sound of the aluminum clanged against a distant tree and caused a bird to spring from its nest. Soon the silence returned, only the sounds of crackling wood and a colony of frogs bleeping to the west towards the river. 

"So, uh, where are you from?" Hamilton finally asked the Cavalryman, stirring him from his thoughts.

"Redmond, a little town not too far from the colonial border in Washington. You?"

"Portland, born and raised." 

The Cavalryman gave a chuckle and nodded. "Portland's a fine town, a little too big for me though. I like the quiet life... The name's Ford, by the way."

"Hamilton, everyone calls me Hamish though." Hamilton replied, looking over Ford for a moment.

Ford was an older man, clearly a veteran of conflict. His eyes were sunken in and lines of age covered his vestige. His hair and moustache had begun to gray and his blue eyes seemed faded. Whoever Ford was, he had every look to imply a professional soldier.

"You got any family Hamish?" Ford asked as he stomped out the remnants of his cigarette in the grass.

"No, my mother died a few years ago. I, uh, never knew my dad." 

Ford rose to his feet and put his hand into his jacket pocket, he leaned across the dying campfire and held out a picture to Hamilton. The picture was faded and in black and white, as most photos were. The man was definitely Ford, though his hair was slick and black and he held no facial hair. The other man in the picture was younger still, no older than his early thirties, and blonde. Both men were smiling. Ford took the photo and gently placed it back into his jacket before sitting down again,

"It might not look like it but that was me a few decades ago." He chuckled for a moment before continuing. "Jerry was my husband at the time. He ended up being a bit too energetic for my tastes though, ended up catching him with some university student from Tacoma and kicked him to the curb. Still can't believe I married him."

Hamilton nodded, his eyes looking upward towards the moon. "Our shift'll be ending soon."

"Mhm, my boys are part of the recon team heading into the city in the morning. If the reports are right it'll be hell dealing with the gangs. Every god damn street seems to have it's own wannabe warlord and none of'em take kindly to strangers in uniform."

"Well, hey, maybe I'll see you out there. Last I checked I've been drafted into the frying pan too."

Ford smiled as he rose to his feet, two more soldiers were approaching the fire. Both men seemed to be from the 23rd Mountaineers. "Well Hamish my boy, try not to die out there tomorrow. You seem like a good kid for a private."

"How'd you k-"

"I know a private when I see one. You all tend to have that 'fresh out of the training grounds' level of enthusiasm. Plus you actually talked about going into urban fighting with an eagerness." Ford said simply as he took another cigarette from his jacket and lit it with a match.

Before Hamish could say his goodbyes Ford had already begun walking back towards his company tend, illuminating a small auora of the dark with his lit cigarette as he was absorbed by the dark without a word...