Harkin's Rebellion In 'Don T Sweat'
The rebellion against the tyrant Harkin’s brutal regime has come to an end. The rebels and I had won the war after six long and bloody years. But at what cost did it charge us? Tens of thousands of our people either lay dead or wounded, hundreds of thousands more are homeless, entire cities have been destroyed in the process, and large amounts of farmland were rendered infertile by the rivers of the blood that were shed. I had personally lost my entire family to that man’s insatiable madness and bloodlust. The rebellion had been fighting a losing battle for well over five years before Harkin would make a mistake that would cost him his position. Harkin discovered our main base was centered in the city of Izule, so Harkin burned it to the ground and took the remaining survivors, my family included, back to the capital of the country. There Harkin learned that I, his former High Captain, was leading one of the more successful
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“You’re late,” states a voice to my left side, “Again.” I turn to see the menacing demeanor of King Rodger Hellblade staring down at me. In my country I am considered the average height of a man at five foot nine inches, yet Rodger towers over me at a stunning six foot three inches. It is impossible to not be intimidated by this man; whose giant muscular body and his numerous medals make me feel as if I am not suited for the position that I am now in. Rodger stands there and evaluates the threat I might pose to him, apparently unconsciously doing it, for he started talking again. “You’re too nervous, boy,” Rodger says in his low, rumbling voice. Even that seemed to exude menace. “Sorry, Your Highness,” I reply, trying to will confidence into myself. “I don’t see why,” Rodger answers, “Hell, even I was nervous at my
“You’re late,” states a voice to my left side, “Again.” I turn to see the menacing demeanor of King Rodger Hellblade staring down at me. In my country I am considered the average height of a man at five foot nine inches, yet Rodger towers over me at a stunning six foot three inches. It is impossible to not be intimidated by this man; whose giant muscular body and his numerous medals make me feel as if I am not suited for the position that I am now in. Rodger stands there and evaluates the threat I might pose to him, apparently unconsciously doing it, for he started talking again. “You’re too nervous, boy,” Rodger says in his low, rumbling voice. Even that seemed to exude menace. “Sorry, Your Highness,” I reply, trying to will confidence into myself. “I don’t see why,” Rodger answers, “Hell, even I was nervous at my