The Union 148 Peasants' Revol

Nevertheless his legs moved and he followed. He just bit his lips and hoped that in the end everything would work out. A few thousand steps and he found himself in a hidden spot in the camp. It wasn't actually hidden as the place was in an open field but only a few frequented the spot. If Harold's memory still serves him, the spot was reserved for storing food coming from Ront and Straso. Now that Leopold Castonia cut their supply lines, the place had become a den of silence.

The serf he just met turned his head towards Harold. He curved a small smile and gestured towards a big tent.

"In here brother"

Harold studied the tent. It was truly large, probably intended to house grains. It was unremarkable though as other tents of the same size lined its both sides.

Harold met eyes with the serf.

"What is inside?"

"I told you already" The serf's smile turned wider. His yellowish teeth showed. With a swipe of his hand he held the flap of the tent open. "A new day awaits us"

Harold angled his look inside the tent. His legs stilled. His heart was calm though despite his current situation.

His left leg moved forward. And then his right. He doesn't want to go inside. He just wanted to live his life. Even a serf- a lowly abused serf- could cherish the joy of breathing and the gift of a beating heart. It was better to live than to die. Living as a serf is still living no matter what. That's what he thought. That's what he planted on his heart. But he entered the tent anyway despite knowing that only doom and death awaits inside.

There were a few dozen people inside the tent. All of them turned a short look at him as he entered. And then they went back to minding their own business. A buzzing chatter ensued.

After a few breaths a man clad in armor dragged a stool in front of the crowd. The man was a soldier from the looks of it. The crest on his armor was beautiful. It was an image of a crowing rooster.

The soldier went up the stool. Everyone stopped chattering and focused on him. Harold also directed his eyes on the soldier.

"My name is John Wilkin of the Rooster legion" the soldier said and held his tongue afterwards as if permitting his words to sink into their minds.

Harold of course knew what the rooster legion is. During their free time, serfs would often gossip about various things. Lately the exploits of King Timothy in the west had been the content of their gossips. Naturally the Rooster Legion was included in the tales.

They said that the rooster legion once withstood the charge of Tulosan Knights. The rooster's talons could stop a stallion. Even when surrounded and outnumbered the rooster would not rout. The rooster only crows loyalty to King Timothy. They were his favorite- his best.

"You must have heard of the rooster before" John continued with pride in his voice. "We are His Majesty's sword. We are his s.h.i.+eld. And now that the n.o.bles are giving His Majesty trouble, we are here to let them have a taste of our might"

John's posture emanates a feeling of toughness. It was apparent that he was a veteran who had downed many with his sword.

"We are supposed to be enemies. You serve the n.o.bles while I serve His Majesty. And yet we are here talking and meeting in this dark secret place. Why is that?" John raised his finger and then formed a fist "I'll tell you why. It's because we are not enemies. The n.o.bles are our enemies and we are all His Majesty's subjects"

A hush followed. n.o.body moved. n.o.body talked. The silence ended with a single serf grunting and asking the question everyone wanted to ask.

"You want us to rise against the n.o.bles?"

All of them of course knew that the answer is yes. They wouldn't gather in secret like this for nothing. The purpose was not to confirm John's intention but to gauge the chance of success. Almost every serf in the camp wanted to fight the n.o.bles. Harold was also the same. He wanted justice for all the inequality he suffered from the hands of his liege lord.

But Harold doesn't want to die. No sane man would want to breathe his last. Living is still living despite the hards.h.i.+ps. A life is still a life.

"We've been serving our liege lords for generations good sir" An old serf said with mellow voice "I've seen several peasant revolts in the past. I've seen serfs resist against the rule of the n.o.bles over the years. All of those serfs are now dead. Executed for the crime of rebelling against their liege. We wanted to rise against them son. Believe me, we do. But why should this rebellion succeed when others failed? This would end just like the others- with dead serfs and triumphant n.o.bles"

"It will be different this time. The King is with us. King Timothy will elevate all of you to freemen. The land you toil now will be given to you after the rebellious n.o.bles have been vanquished" John said

"Pardon me for saying this but we haven't met King Timothy. We all have heard of him but for us he is just a tale. Why should we trust in the promises of a man whose face we haven't even seen?" the same old man reb.u.t.ted.

"Because King Timothy is not just a normal royal. Many Kings have promised to improve the quality of life of their subjects. And many Kings have failed in their promises. But King Timothy is different. Trust me, I know. I have been with him and I can say that he cares for us. He could have abandoned us when the Tulosans and the Calgarians and the Wismarines attacked. He could have ran away to a distant land and lived a good peaceful life. But he didn't. He didn't run because he cares for us. He loves us and we should serve him!"

"Fine. Let us say that King Timothy will be true to his word. I personally think that he would be. What now? What's the plan?"

The soldier whose name is John looked at them one by one.

"This gathering is just one of many. Several of my comrades are also meeting other groups of serfs. Tonight we will attack the n.o.bles. Tonight you will have your freedom!" John raised his fist in the air.

But his rhetoric was met with mumbles of disagreement. Harold himself frowned. The plan was too risky.

"A child must have made your plan then" A serf shouted "No! You must be insane if you think that this would work. Do you think that all serfs wants to free themselves from the shackles of the n.o.bles? Not all serfs are like that. It only takes a single traitor to expose your attack tonight. I am even willing to bet that there is a traitor inside this tent. He will report your planned attack to the n.o.bles and all of us who will partic.i.p.ate tonight will be branded as traitors. Too naive I say."

"Even if someone does betray us the n.o.bles can't do anything if all of you rise in rebellion. I know this is scary for you. I know that you all fear death. But it is time to have courage to change your fate"

"Yes. But alas not everyone is as brave as you good sir. You are a soldier. You are a veteran of countless battles. We, on the other hand, just want to live and go back to our families. I'm sorry but I won't join you" A serf said sadly. He turned around and started walking to the exit.

Several serfs followed. They all left. The tent slowly emptied. Harold also did the same. It was true. The plan was too risky. He had hoped that real soldiers will attack the camp. But the soldier whose name is John implies that the serfs would have to fight for their own freedom.

Harold was disappointed. He thought that he had seen hope. He was wrong. There was no hope for a serf like him.

**********

The night attack failed. Harold had heard that several dozen serfs were captured by the n.o.bles that night. They were going to be executed for treason.

Harold was about to sleep when the right hand man of his liege woke them. All serfs were commanded to watch the execution that night. When Harold arrived at the place of the execution several thousand serfs were already there.

The atmosphere was solemn. It was a sad night. There were forty-six serfs on the platform. Their hands were tied and their clothes were ripped. Some of them had bloodied face. Some had missing limbs. The n.o.bles, mercenary captains and Prince Ivan were also on the platform.

Harold's liege stepped forward. He had a whip on his hand. He hauled one of the serfs to the front of the platform where everyone can see him. To Harold's surprise the serf was the one who dragged him into the secret meeting. He never got to know the serf's name but he was sure that it was him.

"This man" Harold's liege pointed at the serf "This man betrayed King Ivan. He is a lowly serf like all of you. And yet he dared to raise a sword against us n.o.bles. Bear witness on how such rebellious att.i.tudes are punished. He will be flogged until he dies. May this serve as a warning to you. Rebellion will mean death!"

But the serf suddenly laughed. His laugh drew the attention of everyone watching. His mouth was b.l.o.o.d.y. His face was swollen. And yet he was laughing.

He raised his chained wrists. Everyone was surprised by his actions. Harold was also surprised but he felt his heart race after seeing the serf's unwillingness to give up.

"We are more than just serfs!" he started. "We are people too. We are Castonians. We are the many. And these n.o.blemen should be the ones fearing us. Because we are the strong. I may die today but I will tell you this brothers! We can fight them!"

"Shut up!" Harold's liege started flogging the serf. His strikes erupted smacking sounds on the serf's back. But the serf maintained his stance and continued talking.

"Rise brothers! Rise! We have to fight. We can fight! They should be the ones fearing us. They should be the ones cowering. They have abused us for too long. Now is the time for change. Now is the time to rise!"

At last the serf fell. The Baron's whips were too much. The serf's bleeding back was exposed. It was mangled like minced meat. The serf managed to shout one last line.

"We are more than just serfs"

There was then a long silence. Only the Baron's pants could be heard.

But Harold didn't mind the silence. He was focused on the serf. He was staring at the fallen brother. His eyes had been opened. The resilience of the serf opened his emotions like floodgate. A certain rage filled his heart. It was ire. It was fury. They had been abused for so long. They had been treated like animals. It was not fair. The world was not fair to them.

Harold's breaths had become heavy. He gritted his teeth. He was angry.

He raised his clenched fist in the air and roared.

"Rise!"