The Revolt | SLOW UPDATES

| Chapter Four |

Mazwell froze. How had he not made the connection before? He knew her father. He knew her. They had both known him...and his father.

"Farrah...Eves," Maxwell repeated, still processing the reality.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Farrah replied, leaning back in her chair. She wore black pants, a black shirt, a black jacket, and black gloves, all matching her almost-black hair. Her light skin contrasted, making her seem to glow in the dimply lit room. "Who are you? Do I know you?" she added.

Maxwell bit his lip and glanced back down at the paper. He couldn't keep his identity a secret forever. He needed her help, and as far as he could tell, she also needed his. They were on the same team...right? 

After the longest pause, Maxwell slowly replied, "Maxwell Atticus."

He watched Farrah's face turn from one of nonchalance to shock in an instant. She sat up in her seat, seemingly trying to look for any familiar features. I mean, it has been over ten years.

"Maxwell?" Farrah repeated, just as Maxwell had when she told him her own name. He nodded, his fingers fidgeting with the paper in his hands. Her stare was getting quite uncomfortable.

"I can't believe it," Farrah announced, throwing her hands up in the air, "How did I not recognize you?--"

"I mean, you've only seen me once."

"--I get that you've done a complete one-eighty, seeing that you used to be a lanky little boy, and now you're a handsome young man," Maxwell chuckled as she continued her rant, "but you're still very familiar. You look a lot like your father, that I know for sure."

Farrah paused, noticing his stiff posture, "He never came back, did he?" she asked softly.

Maxwell simply shook his head and continued to bury my face in the papers in front of him. Sure, it was over ten years ago, but Maxwell's father was all he had. His mother had died before he could remember, and he couldn't recall any other family. When Mark Atticus didn't return, some of his son didn't return, either. Something had changed in his identity, and now, he was stuck in a crooked kingdom, led by a corrupt King and Queen.

Yes, he was high in rank in his job. He was essentially the King's secret agent. But he also wasn't blind to the fact that the people in his own country were suffering as he lived in, comparatively, luxury. Most lived in poverty, and disease ran rampant. Violence was everywhere, thievery was off the charts. The jail and prison was reaching its full capacity, so the King (in other words, the Queen) demanded that criminals be executed by being thrown into the Gorge.

Maxwell broke out of his thoughts and noticed Farrah frowning at him. "What are you thinking about?" she asked.

He shrugged, setting down the paper he had been clutching the whole time. "Life."

"Specifically...?"

"The corruptness of the kingdom."

Farrah snorted, "You mean, the Queen?"

"More or less."

Farrah sighed and took her seat once again, leaning her elbows on the table. 

"So what are you going to do about it, Max?"

"I'm going to do my best to change it, of course."

"While staying loyal to the King?"

Maxwell frowned, not understanding what she meant by that. She sighed, and clarified, "You work for the King. Everyone knows that. To what capacity, that's unsure, but you work for this 'corrupt kingdom' you speak of."

That totally wasn't blunt at all. "Yes, I do," Maxwell confessed, "But I'm not loyal to the crown." His voice had quieted by the end, not wanting anyone to hear him--if that was even possible underground in this deserted place.

"I know," Farrah shrugged, "That would just be a disgrace to your father."

Suddenly, the pounding of the Archers in formation rang in their ears. On instinct, both Farrah and Maxwell dropped down to the ground, slowly making their way to the door to listen. Outside, they heard yelling and swords being drawn, along with the wailing of a woman and child.

Something pierced Maxwell's heart in that moment. He didn't know what he was feeling or how to make it stop; he only knew that he had to do something.

Maxwell hastily made his way out of the underground room, ignoring Farrah's calls to stay back. I have power, He thought, they'll listen to me. They have to.

In a moment he was in the midst of it all. A man was about to be executed, thrown into the never-ending pit of the Gorge. Archers held a woman and child back, both desperately trying to wrench themselves out of their grasp. The young woman could only have been, at most, twenty-three years old. The child, only three.

Maxwell didn't know what got into him, but he found myself walking towards the man, the criminal. He only stopped short when a soldier abruptly yanked on his arm. Turning slightly, he found the Head Archer, General Eiten, glaring at him, his grip tightening. Yet Maxwell's eyes remained expressionless as always, staring right back at him.

"What has he done?" Maxwell asked curtly.

Eiten's grip loosened, though still firm. "He's disrespected High Society. His punishment is execution."

Maxwell yanked himself away, ignoring the stares in our direction as he challenged the General's authority. "What has he done to disrespect High Society?"

"He was dishonest," Eiten spat, "And he must die. So if you'll excuse me--"

"Is that really deserving of death, General? If I recall correctly, last week you implied something quite diff--"

"Quiet!" the general's glare hardened, but after he seemed to think it over, he gave the signal to let the criminal go. Maxwell smirked to himself, brushing past the general to meet the man and his family.

"I apologize for the scare that must've given you," Maxwell said as the man stepped away from his wife, who had at this point stopped crying.

"No, it's all right," the man shook his head, "Thank you, sir. I cannot say it enough."

As Maxwell turned to leave, he decided to add, "I'm Maxwell Atticus."

"Averill," said the former criminal. Maxwell nodded in acknowledgement and stepped to the sidelines, waiting for the military to leave before heading back into the building where Farrah waited. He couldn't risk them finding the location with all the documents and clues that it now held. 

He watched until the last Archer left,  hastily making his way inside, where Farrah stood waiting.

"What did you say?" Was her first question to be fired.

Maxwell shrugged and stepped back into the underground room before replying, "I only reminded the General of a time when he was dishonest to his chief, yet I covered for him."

Farrah nodded in approval. "Good. One less life to be lost for petty reasons. The King really needs to get his act together."

Maxwell agreed. But in that moment, he knew what he was going to do. He wasn't going to sit and watch anymore--he simply couldn't. He was going fix what the Crown had damaged.

And this book just might have the answer.