Dec 23 2008
Imperialism, Book One continued
Quickly, Johnny’s father set off running towards the town, pumping his old, arthritic legs. Johnny could only hope that his father would be able to recruit more citizens of Silverage to fight, to rally against the Imperials; not in peace, but in war. It had happened before in the town of Semson, Hans had eagerly told him only minutes before. The citizens had rebelled and successfully driven the Imperials from the city. Of course, the Imperials had simply returned in greater numbers a week later, ultimately crushing the rebellion and crushing the few advances the people had made by themselves, which was the reason the city was now commonly called Rustic City. But as Hans reasoned, the residents of Silverage had to be willing to take this rebellion as far as possible, so as not to end up like the citizens of Semson.
After Johnny had found the sword under his father’s bed, he had immediately rushed out to the western cornfields, where he had found Hans talking to his father. The three of them had then walked back to their house, where they discussed what they could do. The plan that they had eventually settled on scared Johnny greatly, but thinking about it also gave him a swift sense of pleasure, the adrenaline rushing through his body and filling him with a kind of strange, foreign energy. It excited him the same way play-ing childhood games in the town square had; his muscles seemed stronger, and his mind more alert.
Johnny heard a startled cry from an Imperial as they sighted his father running towards the main town. Soon after, he heard the crunching of boots on rock, and mut-tered curses of Imperials as they knocked loudly on the door to the house. With a jolt of horror, Johnny remembered what he had neglected to tell Hans and his father: Arielle was still in the house, as was his mother. Disregarding the plan, disregarding his own safety, he burst out from his hiding place behind the house into plain sight of the Imperials. They stared at him in surprise, and the expression on their faces was almost comical. The situation deteriorated further, however, when their initial shock wore off.
A rather short, pale man, wearing a badge displayed proudly on his chest, emerged from within the mass of Imperials. He held a sword loosely in his right hand. His left hand was clutching something that he kept inside his pocket.
“Who are you?” asked the man coldly.
“I could ask the same of you,” replied Johnny, speaking much more bravely than he felt. “This is my house, after all.”
“I’m an Imperial Sergeant, here to inspect possible cases of rebellion and espio-nage, and to collect our rightful amount of corn profits. Now, answer my question: Who are you?”
“He’s just a boy, sir,” said a voice from behind Johnny. Hans had emerged nerv-ously into view. “Don’t pay any attention to him. He won’t cause any trouble.”
“On the contrary, commoner; I believe this boy could cause quite a bit of trouble, judging by the simple lack of respect he has for his government and his betters. For the last time, boy, answer my question!”
“My name is Johnny,” he said quietly. “And you’re not my better.”
Behind Johnny, Hans swore loudly, throwing up his hands in annoyance.
“Excuse me?” The sergeant’s voice had dropped to something barely more than a whisper. “Would you care to repeat that?”
“I said, you’re not my better. Or my government.”
The sergeant stepped forward until he was only a foot away from Johnny, easily within kicking range. Johnny shifted his weight slightly; he felt the anticipation of a fight in the air, swirling around his ankles.
