The Great Movement Riots of 1898

[Winfrew]

August 21, 1898
The rays of the sun dance on the valleys of Manice. A light breeze flies through the village rustling the bushes and trees. A group of people are having a meeting in a house discussing plans. Their faces groggy and tired from planning since the night before, then they hear something. The sound of a motor takes over the quiet town. A small car comes in. A messenger comes out of the car hastily, almost falling the moment he gets off, but quickly regains his footing. He puts his chin up high and his chest high. He seems to be a person of importance. He grabs a piece of paper from his pouch. He then speaks, "Our esteem beloved King Eric has passed away of sickness and now his third son has now taken the great honor of assuming his father's duties and his first decree is that a new era will be coming and that peace and prosperity will rule the lands we love." What he said will come true, everyone will be happy under something new and grander than ever before, but not under his rule. This was their chance. This is what they have been planning for. A revolution is coming.

 

[Winfrew]

August 22, 1898
It's the 3rd hour past midnight. The air is shivering cold, and the wind blows through, bringing even more cold. Even during summer, the valleys and hills that surround the poor village are some of the coldest in the region. The lights are dim, and the town guards stand ready in front of the Mayor's house. A relatively strong gust of wind picks up and blows out a hat from one of them. He goes to grab it from the grass and dirt, and then he catches a glimpse of something. Something shiny. Then, he is grabbed on the neck and dragged into the bushes. A rustle comes from the direction of the guard who lost his hat. The remaining guards walk following it, but then were sneaked up on and were taken to the bushes. Many minutes later, 4 men walk into the night. Wearing the uniform of the guard. They stood ready, and proud. Stronger than anyone who would oppose them, and one by one, walk up the stairs, creaking every step they take. They did not sneak. No light feet of any sort. No hiding or secrecy. They knew that nothing can go wrong here. They hear someone walking. It seems someone heard them, just as expected. A voice is heard, "Who are you and what do you want?!". It was clearly the mayor. He was ready to fight with his gun in hand, and as awake and alert as any well-trained soldier would be, and then he looked down the stairs, and--- he is shot in the chest. The town mayor has been killed in the dead of night. This is where it truly begins. The revolution's deadly spirit has touched its first victim. The winds grow stronger and bellow of true change. The Great Movement has truly begun.

 

[Winfrew]

September 1st, 1898
"Dear citizens, I believe that things are getting better. I am very happy for the prosperity we have received through the past decade. Our kingdom has improved greatly. The buildings in many towns have been improved and even I can tell that all of you are happier and that this might be the greatest moment in history. Thank you." The king takes a deep breath in front of the mirror. He is bothered by something. He practiced his small speech for the 10th time perfectly, so that can't be what aches him? No, it was what was inside it. He knew this was a lie, deep in his heart. There was no prosperity. Anything made or done was for the elite and the government officials, nothing else, but he couldn't say a word about it or he'll die. The king who never had a throne was who he was. Atop the pyramid of power but he's losing balance. A mere puppet for the dictators that have ruled the country for years. A figurehead, you may say. He stays deep in thought, and then the door swings open, almost breaking the hinges. "He needs you right now!", says a servant. Without hesitation, the monarch puts on his clothes while heading to where the escort is leading him to. He enters into a massive, bright room, filled with light. A table lies in the center surrounded by chairs. It was the room of the council. Well, the rich people council, and in the corner stands a man in a well-dressed suit. As formal, as anyone could get at the time. He's proud, tall, smart, clever, and can be described in countless ways, except honest. He's the man behind all of this. The one who controls the puppets. The one who made the country in such a bad shape. All because of Mico Casadevro. He goes to the king with no other sound in the room other than his shoes hitting the floor every step he makes. He gives a piece of paper to the king smiling. A silence fills the room for a few minutes as the king reads and re-reads the paper in disbelief while the servant tries to sneak a peek. "YOU WANT TO IMPOSE MARTIAL LAW PERMANENTLY??!!" His shout echoes into the hallways. "It's not permanent. It is just until the people stop rebelling," says Casadevro grinning. "THEY WILL NEVER STOP WHILE YOU RULE LIKE YOU AND YOUR COUNCIL DOES NOW!!" shouts the outraged king. He is about to shout once more, but Casadevro puts a finger to his lips. "Shh, ah ah ah.... You should remember who killed your father when he spoke out of line. You're lucky I spared you, but who says you're my only puppet?" The king swallows his words, and politely asks to leave and is granted permission. He enters back into his room outraged at Casadevro and his actions, but now he can't do anything about it, but some people will someday, and he prays to God that those people will come soon to end this.