on Rebellion
"Some fires are lit by tyrants, but it is the people who decide what burns."
The Princess's words had been true. Theo could no longer deny it.
*[Saya, this country is rotten. I will avenge our father and return. Wait for me.]*
For the past three years, he'd devoted everything—his youth, his rage, his hope—to this organization, driven by a single purpose: to overthrow the monarchy.
He had left his sister alone, believing that by tearing down this rotten kingdom, he would someday build a better one for her.
What have I been living for all this time?
"Down with Valdina! Down with the royal family!"
The rebels' cries echoed in his ears like a mocking hallucination.
The blaze kindled at Aspalo Castle spread like wildfire.
Within days, word reached the capital—the rebels had seized five of the eight cities encircling the royal seat. The palace erupted into chaos.
"Rebellion? At a time like this?!"
An emergency council was convened.
"Have you heard? The rebels are brutal—they say they gut living men just to see what's inside."
"Why? For what reason? Isn't life finally improving? Relief has arrived, starvation has lessened, even the war seems on the verge of ending."
"It must be something long suppressed—finally exploding."
"Speculate later. Their numbers grow by the day. Their momentum is unnatural. If they reach us, what then?"
By the time rumors of the rebels' savagery spread throughout the palace, it was already too late to be surprised.
The enemy was already at their doorstep.
"We've finally arrived. Look, comrades! Within those walls cower the corrupt Valdina royals who ruined this land!"
From atop his horse, Horrols pointed at the distant silhouette of the royal castle.
He turned back to the mass of rebels behind him, eyes glittering.
"While we starved and died, they laughed—drinking and feasting in golden halls. Today, we slit their bellies and spill their blood upon this earth!"
As he shouted, his gaze swept toward the instigators he'd carefully embedded among the common rebels—his true subordinates, mercenaries bought with the Regent's gold.
"Brothers! Cast off your shackles and reclaim your freedom!"
"Waaaaaaah! Die!"
"Down with Valdina! Down with the royal family!"
A black tide poured down the mountain like a swarm of ants, shadows stretching behind them.
No one stood in their way until they reached the outskirts of the royal fortress.
The castle walls themselves appeared tranquil, almost serene. As if the inhabitants had no inkling of civil war raging beyond their borders.
The Regent truly outdid himself. Not a single whisper got through.
Horrols felt a surge of elation.
The Regent had severed all lines of communication into the capital, ensuring no word of the uprising reached the palace until the first wave of revolt had already erupted.
"They'll leap from their shells in panic when they see us. If we press hard, we can take the castle before dawn."
Unprepared, confused soldiers would become nothing more than easy prey. Horrols could almost taste victory.
"You—break the gates. You—take the ladders and scale the walls. Once inside, eliminate the garrison first. Theo, you stay at my side. I need your eyes on the whole field."
"Yes, sir!"
The rabble roared back their assent. Only Theo remained quiet.
"Theo?"
"...Yes, sir."
Only then did a delayed reply leave his lips.
Horrols raised his banner high. The bright orange standard—symbol of the rebels' assault—snapped sharply in the wind.
"Charge!"
In unison, the rebel army surged toward the castle walls.
*Fwhip, fwhip, fwhip—!*
Arrows rained down from above—launched by soldiers concealed along the battlements—piercing the front ranks of the charging rebels.
"Wh-what is this?!"
"Loose! Loose again!"
Panic rippled through the rebel lines.
Weren't we told they were still asleep?
On the walls, the King's soldiers were not only awake—they were fully armed and had been waiting for this moment.
Oiled arrows ignited the wooden siege ladders.
*Pop—!* Sparks leapt from the ground encircling the moat, followed by acrid smoke.
"Aaaaugh! I'm burning!"
"Gunpowder—there's gunpowder on it!"
*Splash, splash.* The sound of bodies plunging into water echoed amid screams.
The rebels reeled under a defense far more disciplined—and ruthless—than they'd anticipated. No one was more stunned than Horrols.
"What is this...?! He said the palace was empty—that it was full of incompetents!"
Horrols's expression crumpled like wet parchment as the reality before him contradicted everything the Regent had promised.
This level of siege preparation and execution was anything but amateur.
"Tsk—!"
"Chief! To the left!"
Someone pointed toward the direction of the rising sun.
A cavalry wedge thundered toward their exposed flank.
The synchronized draw of swords, the unbroken formation—even without sensing pure killing intent, it was clear these were elite knights.
Then a bellow split the air:
"Begone, you wretched vermin!"
"Hey—that's the banner of Marquis Gilliforth!"
Someone shouted in recognition. Horrols turned—and flinched.
Charging at the head of the cavalry, hammer whirling like a meteor, was an old man Horrols knew by sight alone.
"We've arrived, Your Highness."
The Regent stepped down from his carriage before the palace gate, armored and poised.
"I hear Horrols has already reached the castle walls. If all goes according to plan, we can seize control within half a day."
"Good. Continue setting fires and stirring unrest throughout the Fourth District as planned. Make it appear as if the palace itself is responding to rebel pressure. Understood?"
The goal was simple: convince the populace that traitors lurked within the palace as well.
"Samon, you take position on the walls."
"..."
Samon gave no reply.
His gaunt face, bloodshot eyes, and hollow stare radiated an unsettling gloom.
"Don't even think about touching my mother in the chaos. Or the Fourth Princess. I can't afford to manage that fallout right now."
In addition to the Queen Dowager—who'd ordered her grandson flogged—the Fourth Princess, believing she'd been tricked by Samon and Jason, had sent a knight to beat him senseless.
The wounds that had barely begun to close split open again, forcing them to expend what remained of the Duke's holy water on him.
"If you ruin this plan chasing your revenge, like you did with Etienne, I will never forgive you."
The Regent, well aware of his son's vindictive nature, pressed him hard.
Even after I crush this rebellion and claim the crown, the Queen Dowager must live a while longer.
The old woman—and Katzen's Fourth Princess—will serve as living proof of our legitimacy.
"..."
He patted his trembling son's shoulder.
"Your time for vengeance will come soon. Endure a little longer. Once the throne is ours, I won't hinder you from doing anything you desire."
"...All right."
Samon nodded slowly, hiding the cruel gleam in his eyes.
The curtain was rising on the performance the Regent had orchestrated—to shake the palace in perfect synchrony with the rebels' assault.
"Medea, where is Her Highness the Princess?"
Wearing an expression of urgent concern, the Regent stormed into the Princess's residence.
Sweat beaded on his handsome brow; tension sharpened his features. He no longer resembled the easygoing, carefree man he'd pretended to be.
"Her Highness is in the garden, my lord."
"A rebellion has broken out. You must all flee at once. Every moment counts."
"A... rebellion?"
The Princess's maids exchanged panicked glances.
The chaotic air within the palace and the ash-gray smoke rising in the distance had already felt ominous—now their fears took shape.
Without sparing them further reassurance, the Regent strode into the garden, a knight at his heel.
Before long, he found his niece seated alone beneath a tree.
"Medea!"
"Uncle? Why are you here so suddenly? And... why are you dressed like that?"
Medea regarded the Regent with politely startled eyes.
"Something terrible has happened. There's been a rebellion!"
He seized her arm in a show of frantic urgency.
"The gates have been breached. They'll be storming the palace at any moment."
"The gates were breached? That can't be..."
Medea replied with mild disbelief.
He sounds almost intoxicated on his own staged disaster.
The Regent, drunk on the drama he'd engineered, failed to notice:
His niece was not surprised by the rebellion itself—only by the costume he chose to wear for it.
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