A general born to rule

A war of progranda

The war of propaganda between Marcus and Theophilus escalated quickly. As Marcus continued to deploy his network of agents from the Silent Eye, they meticulously worked in the shadows, gathering intelligence and feeding the people of the outskirts with crucial information that chipped away at the Kingdom of the Holy Gates. Marcus had decided it was time to take things a step further.

Under the cover of night, B-52 bombers soared high above the kingdom, but instead of explosives, they dropped thousands of propaganda leaflets. The papers fluttered through the air like confetti, landing in the streets, homes, and fields across the kingdom. Each one contained damning accusations against Theophilus, exposing his corruption, cruelty, and the exploitation of his people. The leaflets called for freedom, for unity under the banner of the République, and urged people to rise against the oppressive regime.

"Vive la République!" was the rallying cry on every piece of paper, inspiring the hearts of the common folk and planting seeds of doubt even within the inner cities. People, emboldened by the revelations, began to question the authority they once revered. Underground movements began to spread like wildfire, and secret meeting places—hidden in tunnels beneath the kingdom—became the heart of the revolution.

In these underground bunkers, Marcus' forces had provided more than just inspiration. They began equipping the revolutionaries with old, forgotten weapons of war: muskets, cannons, and even warhorses, resembling an army pulled straight out of the 1800s. It was a far cry from the advanced military technology used by modern armies, but it was enough to give the people hope and a fighting chance.

The revolutionaries formed their own structure of governance, creating a council of power that represented the people. Elders, military leaders, and civilians alike had a voice. Laws were created, votes were cast, and for the first time, the people felt the taste of democracy as they united under the shared goal of toppling Theophilus. This council’s ability to govern was key in rallying the disparate groups within the outskirts and uniting them in a common cause.

The outskirts—once considered unimportant by Theophilus and his advisors—were now virtually empty as the people had moved underground, training and preparing for the inevitable conflict. Old townships, farms, and settlements lay abandoned as the heart of the revolution beat from below the surface, hidden from prying eyes.

The revolutionaries knew that the longer they could operate in secret, the more powerful their movement would become. With Marcus’ guidance, and the resources and intelligence of Valorcrest, they were turning the tide of public opinion, one leaflet, one musket, and one whispered conversation at a time. Soon, it would not just be the outskirts that rose against Theophilus, but the very heart of his kingdom.

Theophilus stood at the grand balcony overlooking his kingdom, his blood boiling. The reports of unrest had only grown more frequent and troubling, and his own hubris was being challenged. As he watched the sun sink below the horizon, casting shadows across the cobblestone streets, his anger festered.

Turning sharply, he stormed back inside, summoning the high priest. "Gather the generals. Now," he ordered, his voice a seething growl. The priests bowed low and hurried off, sensing the wrath radiating from their emperor. Theophilus then turned down the hall, making his way to his private chambers.

Inside, the maid he had previously used during his dark lust was getting dressed. Her movements were hurried, almost panicked, as if hoping to escape before he returned. But she wasn’t quick enough. Theophilus grabbed her by the arm, his grip tight and unforgiving, and dragged her toward the bed. His face contorted with sinister desire as he forced her back onto the sheets.

It was a grotesque display of power. His lust was violent, fueled by his growing rage over the unrest threatening his rule. Theophilus did not care about the fear in her eyes or her muffled cries. To him, she was just another object, like his empire—something to control and possess. After he finished, he got dressed in silence, leaving the maid behind, covered only by the blankets, tears silently falling down her face. She lay there broken, another victim of Theophilus’ cruelty.