The Revolution Came

Chapter 20: Negotiations

December 15, 1932
Revilla

National Guardsmen flanked the two high-ranking colonial officials, their expressions unreadable as Commander Lawrence and Commander Nikes led the procession. The 20th Delegation Regiment marched in formation, their polished boots echoing against the stone corridors of the revolutionaries' stronghold.

"Unhand me!" Bragsbreille struggled against his escort, his voice laced with indignation.

Commander Nikes shot him a cold glare. "Mr. Bragsbeille, with all due respect, you are in no position to make demands," he said firmly before turning his focus back to the path ahead.

Bragsbeille huffed but fell silent. He didn't want to admit it, but the revolutionaries had built an impressive system-strong leadership, clear divisions of power, and a well-fortified capital. It was more organized than he had anticipated, and that realization gnawed at him.

As they stepped into the conference hall, Bragsbreille and Minister Feylorn were met with an imposing sight. At the head of the long table sat General Cody Rivera, General Booker, and President Winchester. Flanking them was Commander Bracodo of the Black Guard, his hand resting idly on the hilt of his sword. Behind them, the revolutionary flag hung boldly, and below it, the banner of the British Empire, a symbolic representation of what was soon to be decided.

Ken Drick leaned forward, his voice calm but sharp. "Mr. Feylorn, it's good to see you and Mr. Bragsbeille settling in."

Bragsbreille scoffed. "Do you really think the Empire will allow you to claim independence?" he spat, straining against the guards.

Before anyone could respond, the Black Guard stepped forward, gripping his arms tighter. A silent warning.

Cody, unbothered, exhaled slowly. "Do you think they can afford another war? This conflict has drained us all. The Empire is bleeding resources just as much as we are. Admit it, continuing this war is a losing battle for your side."

Ken Drick gave a slight nod of agreement as Feylorn looked down, deep in thought. Bragsbeille, for once, said nothing.

After a long pause, Feylorn finally spoke. "Mr. Winchester, if you and your generals withdraw from Revilla and dismantle your strongholds, we will recognize your government as a state under the Empire. You'll have an elected representative in Parliament and govern your affairs, as a Commonwealth under the Crown."

Bragsbreille stiffened beside him, his jaw clenching in frustration.

"In simple terms," Feylorn continued, "you'll be free to create your own laws, but you'll still owe allegiance to the British Empire. Taxes will be paid, reports will be sent, and our military will maintain a presence to ensure stability."

Silence filled the room. Cody and Ken Drick exchanged glances.

It was an offer worth considering: partial autonomy, a functioning government, and a seat at the table. But they knew better. The Crown would never allow true independence. Taxes would keep them bound, and a British military presence meant their revolution was nothing more than a temporary disruption, one that could be undone with the stroke of a pen.

Cody exhaled, turning back to Feylorn. "With all due respect, we didn't fight this revolution to trade one form of oppression for another," he said evenly. "We lost too much, our men, our families, our homes, to accept anything less than full independence."

Ken Drick folded his hands. "The Commonwealth is tempting, Minister, but we promised the people the right to govern themselves. We can't betray that promise."

Feylorn's face remained unreadable, but Bragsbeille scowled, knowing that negotiations were slipping through his fingers.

Cody leaned forward, his voice steady but firm. "So here's the reality, Minister. Either you sign this document, take your officials, your troops, and your generals back to London, and inform your Prime Minister that we are no longer under your rule... or this war will continue until we both collapse from exhaustion."