Chapter 3: Legacy and Power Struggles

A country can’t be without a leader for a day.

After the ceremony, I was President again.

During morning meetings, I sat at the head of the table, half-asleep, listening to the officials below arguing furiously about my legacy.

I’m probably the first President who gets to hear his own posthumous title.

That’s… oddly comforting.

There were basically three camps below:

Chief of Staff Curtis’s group, who thought I’d achieved great feats.

General Lee’s group, who thought I was mediocre.

And Secretary Ryan’s group, who just yawned and spaced out.

Ryan was doodling football plays on the back of his agenda, already dreaming of next Sunday’s game.

Everyone argued back and forth, getting nowhere.

Curtis insisted I was a wise leader for the ages, devoted to the country and the people.

General Lee countered that I’d achieved nothing major, and in my early years was reckless—especially at the Battle of Willow Creek against the Western Alliance, where I lost 200,000 troops and shamed the nation. Not a wise leader, he said.

I froze for a while when I heard Willow Creek.

That was so long ago.

Instinctively, I reached for the scar on my left arm, but felt only smooth, youthful skin. Oh right, I’ve changed bodies.

I took office at fourteen, full of youthful ambition, eager for glory and territory.

In my second year, the Western Alliance kept testing our borders, so in a fit of anger I led the army south, vowing to take their capital.

After a year and a half of deadlock, I barely won at Willow Creek.

The Western Alliance’s 300,000 troops were wiped out, and my 200,000 were reduced to less than 20,000.

They were beaten into submission and stayed quiet for years.

But America didn’t fare much better, taking over ten years to recover.

After that, I never fought another war.

Curtis wanted to argue more, but I waved my hand.

“That’s enough for today. We’ll discuss it another time.”

The gavel hit the table—old habits. Some traditions you never shake, even if you come back from the dead.