Rebellion

Prologue

Before me stands a platform with a tall wooden pole on top of it that goes up twenty feet and hanging down from it was a rope, the end was twisted and knotted into a noose. For the moment no one has become its victim, but that will all end when that poor soul is lifted to the sky. This person is the only reason anyone showed up for the "event". Out of respect. My mother, my father, and all other commoners are here to pay a sorrow filled farewell to someone we all hold dearly. The Queen and all of the nobles are watching from their high perches up beyond the wall that separates us from them. They are here for blood, one man's blood that will change the world. They look like a terrifying monster with red beady eyes and giant teeth protruding from the mouth that will devour everything in its path.

We stand loud, restless, and angry. Pandemonium is the result of our presence. Everyone has gathered in the plaza before the hanging pole, below the wall of the nobles. The adults holler and scream hateful words to the Queen. "Murderer," they yell, "Liar! Traitor! Scum! Evil Witch, you're hated. Burn in hell!" Even though their words are heard, they are completely ignored. We commoners cannot do a thing.

Many push and shove me as I grasp momma's hand tightly afraid I will lose her in the crowd. Momma's skirt has been shredded from the amount of people stepping on it and my feet are repeatedly stepped on. No one notices us. We are but one of many. Father stands in front of us in the plaza, hands cupped over his mouth making his words louder. People around us are sweating and purple in the face. Most have been here for hours yelling nonstop. All of their protests are for nothing.

Suddenly, a door opens behind the hanging post and out walks a man with two guards pushing him forward. His clothes are loose, ragged, and torn in many places. His cheeks are hollow and stark against his pale skin. His lanky body is covered in grime, his feet and hands covered in dirt. Long, black hair covers most of his face reaching his shoulders. I have no idea who this person is, but I can't look away. He is all I see.

Faces around me light up with cheers as the man staggers forward. The man lifts his head slightly and smiles at us. The only one who acknowledges us, the one the people love. The guards shove his head back down and knee him in the gut. The crowd retaliates in anger. The mob pushes forward and is clawing at the stage to no avail.

"Give him back! He is too good for you! His Highness is worth more than all of you put together, bastards!"

That's who that is, his Royal Highness, King Sebastian. I didn't recognize him at all. Though the King has always been skinny, he has never been that skinny. His tall, lanky body is sagging as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders, no longer straight and proud. He used to have glossy black hair that shimmered in the sun, now it's covered in grease. It was rumored that he never ate much because he wanted to give as much to the people as he could.

He wanted to see this country thrive. He would come down to the outer ring where no noble has ever gone and talk to us, give us food, and smile as if there wasn't a single problem. Other times we would see him as he addressed the country atop the balcony of the castle, the only time the guards let us through the walls. At the end of every public addressing he always ended with, "For the service of you, my people."

The people loved him, I loved him. He wanted to have the streets run with hope and happiness, engulfing the country with possibilities. That was his dream. However, that dream has ended. None of those up high will side with the powerless, the voiceless, and the weak.

"Beloved people of this country," the Queen begins only addressing the nobles. "We are here witnessing a horrid day for which will bring us together. This man standing before you was loved by the people and most of all me, but he has fallen from that path and this is the result."

Lies, every single word that came out of her mouth. She doesn't care, she wants his demise. The Queen will rise up once the King is gone and conquer what little we have. That lady is a stone statue, emotionless and heartless. Around me people have tears flowing from their cheeks. Sobs erupt from the souls of the people and hearts are breaking. My momma weeps, my father has streams of tears dripping from his face, and I cry silently to myself. This is a loss that will hurt us all.

"Sir Sebastian Crown stands before you to accept his punishment for the murder of Sophia Crown, his second and youngest child. She was too young and had such a bright future." A single tear escapes the Queens control and rolls freely down her face. Even I can tell it's fake. The King did no such thing.

As the Queen finishes what she has to say, the executer wraps the rope around the royal neck and raises the rope with those outrageous muscles. The nobles cheer for his death as the King's life slowly ends. The Queen finishes this event saying, "Though today has brought us great pain, we will only become stronger because of this. Long live the Royal Family!"

"Long live the Royal Family! Long live the Royal Family! Long live the Royal Family!" The nobles repeat again and again as the Queen walks back into her castle.

The tears have ended, not a person will shed one more. For those of us who live in the outer ring of the city, it is a day of sorrow and loss. The crying is done. Now, we are seething with blind rage that is bound to explode. The King made our lives better, gave us hope. We all knew his crimes were false, even the babies could sense it. His Highness would never do something like that. He gave us attention and power, a thing the nobles and Queen hated. That something disappeared with his death.

But that was six years ago and since then life has only gotten worse with each passing year. Crime has escalated, taxes were raised, death is at an all-time high, and trafficking thrives in the streets that were once filled with hope. Not all bad things came from his death. Those raging for their loss received their purpose and took action against the castle that sits high on the hill in the center of the city looking down on those who aren't worthy. Through their cries of anger and despair, a rebellion was born.