The Revolution Came

Chapter 24: Changing times

July 20th, 1933

After dropping off Mey and the other representatives at port, Ertchin received disturbing reports that merchant vessels were being gunned down by a mysterious ship painted in red and black.

A chill ran down his spine. The descriptions matched exactly what he and his crew had seen. He wanted to believe it was just paranoia, but the reports confirmed the worst—whatever that ship was, it was real.

Pushing aside his unease, Ertchin knew what had to be done. His ship had taken damage, and if he was going to be prepared for whatever lay ahead, he needed repairs and upgrades. Without hesitation, he set the course for Palayrum Vineyard.

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As Ertchin stepped onto the docks of Palayrum Vineyard, the scent of salt and aged wood filled the air. He made his way straight to the harbor master, who greeted him with a nod.

"Aye, Commander. What can I do for ye?"

"I need improvements to my ship's hull and cannons," Ertchin said, his gaze drifting to the battered state of his vessel.

The harbor master eyed the damage before scratching something onto a ledger. "I assume you'll be needing repairs as well?"

Ertchin gave a firm nod.

"Aye, Captain. Should be done in a few weeks," the harbor master replied, tucking the paper away.

Without hesitation, Ertchin handed over the payment. Now, all that was left was to wait and prepare.

Meanwhile at Revilla

After months at sea, Mey and the representatives finally stood before the President and the Supreme Council. The exhaustion of their journey weighed on them, but the relief of solid ground beneath their feet was a welcome reprieve.

Ken Drick wasted no time. "What is your report, Commodore?"

Mey instinctively straightened his posture before furrowing his brow. "Sir, I believe my rank is Commander."

Drick allowed a small smirk. "Well, you've been promoted."

Mey blinked in surprise before nodding. "Thank you, sir!"

Drick returned the nod before shifting his attention to the representatives. One of them stepped forward.

"Sir, the British have accepted the terms of surrender. They have agreed to withdraw from all forts and military buildings they constructed in our country."

Drick crossed his arms. "And what are our obligations under the treaty?"

Karl, one of the senior representatives, stepped in. "We are required to support them in any time of war, release all prisoners of war, and allow loyalists to leave the country freely."

Drick exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. "We'll need to review the finer details with the Cabinet." He paused, coughing into his handkerchief before quickly tucking it away. "You're dismissed. Please clean up the office and seats you were using. The Cabinet meeting will convene later."

As the delegates left, Drick glanced at his handkerchief again. The sight of blood against the white fabric sent a chill through him.

The elections for the governorship were fast approaching. For now, local legislatures appointed their governors, but soon, the system would shift—where the people would elect legislators, and those legislators would cast votes for the governor. It was another step toward solidifying their new government. He just had to survive long enough to see it through.