The Revolution Came

Intermission: November Riots

The storm over Revilla raged like the fury of its people. Sheets of rain mixed with sleet pelted the cobblestone streets as a restless crowd gathered before the Ministry of Colonial Management. The air crackled with defiance.

Amidst the sea of protesters, members of the Secret Society moved like shadows, whispering words of resistance and urging the people toward open revolt. Opposing them stood the British Civil Guard, their muskets raised in silent threat, blocking the grand entrance of the Ministry.

Flags of rebellion fluttered above the masses, and voices rose in unison, singing songs of freedom, of hope. At the heart of the movement, perched atop a carriage, stood two men, Commander Joshua Bracodo and Colonel Poper Bracodo. Their eyes, sharp and unyielding, scanned the gathering storm before them.

Then came the cavalry. A disciplined line of mounted Civil Guards maneuvered into place, their horses snorting in the cold air. A warning. A challenge.

Commander Joshua and Colonel Poper did not flinch. They drew their pistols, waiting.

For a moment, the world held its breath.

The rioters jeered, hurling snow and scraps of paper at the soldiers. The guards responded in kind, mocking them, taunting them, until the shot rang out.

A single, deafening crack.

The storm seemed to still. For an instant, the crowd wavered in stunned silence. Then, chaos.

Screams of outrage ripped through the air.

"Murderer!"

All eyes turned to the fallen victim, an elderly woman, crumpled on the street, blood staining the snow beneath her. The fury of the crowd exploded. A handful of rioters surged forward, seizing the soldier responsible, wrenching his weapon from his grasp.

The cavalry spurred into motion.

Commander Joshua fired the first shot. Colonel Poper followed. Their voices cut through the pandemonium.

"To the intersection!" Poper bellowed, wheeling his horse around. "Form a barricade!"

A revolution was taking shape.

From the windows above, sympathetic hands tossed furniture, barrels, and crates onto the street below, feeding the makeshift barricade. The people donned their cockades, a silent declaration of allegiance.

As the storm raged over Revilla, so too did the fire of rebellion.

___A Few Hours Later___

The barricades stood firm, a defiant scar across the streets of Revilla. Rain and smoke mingled in the air as revolutionaries secured their positions. Colonel Poper, gripping the flag of the uprising, climbed onto a nearby balcony and planted it high. The symbol of defiance fluttered above them, marking the district as liberated, if only for now.

Across the battlefield, the British commander stepped forward, his voice sharp against the storm.

"Where do your loyalties lie?"

Colonel Poper met his gaze without hesitation. "To the Revolutionary Covenant!"

The commander's face twisted in disdain. Without another word, he thrust his saber forward.

"Fire!"

A crackling volley of musket fire erupted. The revolutionaries ducked behind their barricades, returning fire in kind. Gunpowder filled the streets with thunderous echoes as bullets whizzed through the air.