Chapter 1: Coup in the Capitol

After the legendary general Nathaniel Carter led half a million men to their deaths, chaos erupted in the capital. Some wanted to flee, others to fight. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife; old marble floors echoed with the frantic shuffle of boots, and the scent of burnt coffee hung in the corridors. Somebody’s half-eaten donut sat melting on a radiator. The flicker of Fox News and CNN from office TVs bled into the chaos as aides whispered rumors and cabinet secretaries yelled over one another. Some clutched prayer beads, others their cell phones, texting loved ones. A city on the verge of panic, stuck between fight-or-flight.

Henry Quinn, newly thrust into the body of Samuel Grant, heard the news. It felt like coming to after a blackout in a college frat house—confused, headache pounding, and no clue how you got there. The TV in the corner screamed breaking news, red banners scrolling beneath shaky live feeds of angry crowds outside the Capitol.

What? The enemy is at the gates? That’s a stroke of luck!

His first reaction was almost gleeful. The world spun, but he found himself oddly energized. Adrenaline flooded his veins, sharp and electric. He grinned—a wolfish, reckless grin he hadn’t worn since his Army days. He’d always been more at home on a battlefield than at a desk.

First, he gave Walter Young, who was pushing for retreat, a thorough beating, and then was promptly forced by Councilman Quentin to become president.

It wasn’t the cleanest way to rise in politics, but in America, sometimes a left hook and a strong presence beat out all the fancy talk. The shock of the slap still echoed in the chamber like a starter’s pistol at the Kentucky Derby.

But even that couldn’t stop Henry Quinn from leading eight hundred cavalry on a daring charge straight into the enemy camp to take down Ethan Black, the invading warlord.

The city’s radio buzzed with disbelief as news spread of the president himself mounting up. You could almost hear folks in their kitchens, hands frozen over coffee mugs, whispering, “Is this for real?”

When Ethan saw Henry’s eight hundred cavalry, he was completely stunned. You’re not defending the city, but launching a surprise attack on me? Where’s your sense of fair play?

Even among warlords, there’s a kind of unspoken code. But this—this was audacious, pure American moxie, breaking every rule in the book. Ethan Black could only gape, half-admiring, half-outraged, as hooves thundered toward his camp.