I write an Isekai about communist revolution until an anime is made out of it

A Fire Swelling

Dread of the consequences awaiting my behavior in that fateful conversation was soon absorbed by the hivemind of a people preparing for combat on a scale they'd scarcely imagined. I, on the other hand, mainly struggled with wrapping my head around the uncanny energy coursing through the sprawling slums.

Men, women, and children who I'd seen sulking about the day before were running past me now, and crowds swarmed around me when I literally poked my foot out of a door. Most of my experience of those days came from hearsay, or whatever sounds echoed through walls. Workshops spewed noise which not even the dark of night could dampen; I watched a smithy break down from overuse, before being repaired for a few minutes. All manner of things disappeared from the shelves of stores, with guns being the second scarcest commodity, bested only by the red of Valkheim's coat of arms. The constant mechanical bustle even occasionally managed to drown out some of the singing; a stream of tall tales and every hope and dream of the people around me emanated through my rickety walls, and I even understood a few of them! Meanwhile, I was mostly positive that someone had been tarred and feathered somewhere in that newly-overgrown urban jungle.

In three days, we had an army of Valkheim's refugees, joined by a few local warriors and hunters and Vay, with her luxury of living under the spotlight. Their individualistic equipment was a spattering of sore thumbs among a crowd wearing the utilitarian rags of peasants, and the plain iron armor of guardsmen turned sellswords turned conquerors. The mob bristled with mostly-simple guns, and any red cloth they could find. Outside the city, Honse was rearing to help me dodge public attention, and I watched Hadlon give a speech from his swelling camp which I vaguely understood.

While their surrogate city bustled with preparations, Feo had scouted the border between the Butcher's domain and the city-state which surely celebrated the departure of our dangerous rabble. Now, I tagged along with his detachment of scouts on Feo's second visit to a site he'd dubbed "mount guardian", just within enemy territory. A decaying stone road ran straight from the city we'd left, along the side of the towering lump of earth, and past it to the butcher's very house. Along that road was our only company: a watch-post from the city which waved us off as we crossed their border to the Butcher's barren lands. The shift could be inadequately described as stepping from spring to summer; the green fields and dense woodlands on the city's side gave way to bleached grass, and a spike in heat constituted the only change in climate I'd noticed since arriving in Elgea, but also every tree on the Butcher's side was stripped of any leaves.

Our horses struggled to climb directly to the hilltop, but from a ruined guardpost planted atop the great lonely lump of earth, you could see miles away in all directions. So, this would the site of what might've been the first battle in Elgea's history with hundreds of combatants. I watched from above as Feo's scouts began preparing the grounds for combat - planting markers out on the surrounding flats for bearings and ranges, and felling the most inconvenient of the trees scattered along the hillsides. Watching it all from the ruin, though, the satisfying feeling of sight was overpowered by the insidious sensation of being seen. Was that just the pressure of the future learning about what would be a major historical event, or was it from the active guardpost, and the spectators already starting to gather on the border, or was anyone peering at me through something like a crystal ball? Whatever the case, years of procrastination had trained me to cope by directing my doubts somewhere else.

This land doesn't look like it could sustain an urban population; if Hadlon's moving his refugees here, they're gonna have a new host of problems. Or, maybe not; I've heard plenty of tales about how this was prime farmland before the Butcher showed up, and the existence of that road supports those stories. Here's hoping this land will heal as soon as the Butcher dies.

Still, I'm not sure what happened back there in Hadlon's command tent. They sounded genuine, but were they really just waiting for me to announce a plan they'd already thought of so that I can shoulder the blame for anyone who dies today? At the very least, Vay had some motive for bringing me here which she hasn't told, but I don't know if that's part of anything bigger.

Well, whatever the case, something big is happening today. Maybe we've just underestimated how effective guns are against this bitch, and she'll be gone without a problem? Maybe every single one of us will die here? We're asking what "should" be impossible of them - maybe this ghetto army will all break and rout?

Speak of the devil there they are! Still have quite a ways to go, but at least now I can see them coming. Should I give them a wave or something? They're too far for me to make out anyone, but maybe Vay has super-sight or something.