Kaguna: Hey Guys! I'm the usual daydreamer. Despite I daydream about games, I wonder about other stories that could be made from them.
Cosette: Another fanfiction writer! Avan, ask him something!
Avan: Hey! Who're you making a fanfiction of?
Kaguna: It will involve Class G a little, yes, however, it's in a new setting.
Kaguna: Gentlemen, welcome to Armolia. And yes, that's a Armenien reference.
Brigader General Robert "Isk" Jameson
"So you heard of the people in Gallia, the tales of the brave and valiant. O' how, we want their victories, however our battles, they were in vain. Their flags waved in victory and light, our flags burned and tainted. The blood of the Gallians wet the fields of their lands, yet their flowers grew. Their flower blossomed into a beautiful garden. However, ours were more tragic".
January of 1935: Cries of the People: By Jacques Vullarie
"Do you hear the cries? The tears, the bloods, of our ancestors that gave their lives in vain"
"The tanks through the fields, the plains drowned in blood, every man, wife and children shot like savages"
"Despite their fires of ill, our nation shall never die! We shall not allow it! Their cause is conquest! Ours is freedom!"
"Friends, Countrymen, Armolians! We shalt not let them take one more step! Ever if we block them with our bodies! We shall persevere!"
February of 1935:
View of Robert Jameson
"Boom", the first tanks arrived. Our people did not even do anything wrong, we had not wronged the empire at all. Their tanks and soldiers charged through our areas in a wave that seemed like an apocalypse. We only declared our independence from the empire that had ill'd us again and again. The town square was bombed, the soldiers shot our men, our women and our children. People fell over and were left in the streets to rot. I hid in the market, growing restless as my fellow men, my own countrymen!... Were dying within my view.
Armolia is a tiny country, we were neighbors of Gallia (We are north of the country), those who fought the threat of the Empire. We had great links with the Gallians, our ancestors having small wars and small eras of gold from time and time. This all changed when the Empire claimed us as one of their protectorates, which our ruler grudgingly accepted in fear of seeing his people burn up in flame. When the second great war started, we had enough with the taxes, the treatment, and decided to call ourselves not soldiers of the empire, but as countrymen of our land, Armolia.
My father was a war hero, yes, I know. The great Luper Jamerston, who married my mother, Lenaire Jameson, a Darscen that refused to give up her last name. I had a brother, Luther Jamerston, who was a colonel in the Empire's army. I also had a sister, Lucia Jamerston, who was living in Potterstan (North from here, and thankfully, not affected by the Empire's advance). My father passed away from a infection from a previous wound. Everyone came to his service, a great one, where the dukes and nobles laughed behind his back. I was appalled when my brother joined him, a great war hero who came from the lower quarters with his rifle, who helped make his country known, laughed by the rich people he made rich! I couldn't say anything, however, since I was the third child. In our culture, the third child is shunned and is given his mother's last name due our valkyrian myth about the third children of the Darscen Calamity. I never liked the myth, since I was discriminated against. The best I could do with the little I gained from my father's death was to create a shoe store. I had a happy life, never been married, but I could live a normal life in my town Cermon... I hoped.
But then I took cover in my shop, a shoe shop, until two men barged into the door. One of my coworkers, Pyers Gauron, who was like a son to me, who was 19 was shot and stabbed in front of me. The soldiers hit me and shot me in the leg. I was begging for mercy and they laughed as their beat me up again and again. I felt every stab within me, the hatred releasing as I was left for dead. My other coworker, Anne Hapingston, came over to me and bandaged me. About eighty percent of the town was destroyed. There was nothing for the town. Nearly three out of four people in our beloved town was killed. The statue of our hero, the hero of the first war, my father Luper Jamerston, was destroyed in half. I lost everything in that very day. Yet, I gained something else, a hatred, a new rise in a feeling... A feeling that I had it. I had it with the empire. I had it with the nobles who betrayed us. Who needs heroes? Who needs generals? WHO NEEDS A LEADER WHO BETRAYED US?! As I came out, I saw a view that would break any person, children crying as they clutch their dead parents. The breaths of other people last breathed, the dead walking the streets as carrion circled our town like demons laughing at our fate. People gathered around me as I cried, they looked at me for guidance, what guidance am I? I am just a shoemaker, a disgrace to my father. No, I am not a disgrace, I am an Armolian. My father gave his life to his country, to be forgotten but he made the true sacrifice. I won't follow in his greatness, but I will at least damn try.
Speech by Robert Jameson: February 11th 1935: Cermon, Armolia
Friends! Countrymen! Armolians! We have been attacked, without warning, by these barbarians!
Our children lay dying in our arms while our parents lay bleeding their blood on our streets!
Why must such tragedy happen?! Why must we suffer in this oppressive system?!
I am the third son, but to hell with it! I am an Armolian at heart! I always been ever since my father taught me the name Armolia!
They think they can break that will! We declared our independence because of their greedy kings!
What do you think the Gallians did when they were attacked? Or the Hallonians?! Or even the Darscens?!
What do you think the people of their country did for their country?!
My father died for his country, he was laughed at by our very lords and merchants!
Those lords and merchants accept the bribes from the Empire to withdraw their armies to slaughter us all!
Fine! If that's how the elites treat us, like bovine and chicken in a slaughterhouse, then I say, revolt!
I am not a true son to him, I am not like him, I do not know whether I know victory from defeat nor defeat from victory,
Yet, to think the glory of standing up against a greater force is a battlefield I would gladly live and die for!
When, in the first war, the valiant Gallians stood, brothers in arms, Gallians, Darscen and even women! Arms by arms!
I am raising my arms! If I shalt be the very first sacrifice for the monument of hope, then gladly sacrifice me!
However, half of us will die for this cause while half will live, who wants to take their chance?!
Fame, Stories and Glory await us in our cause! Let our rebellion ring!
Note: Cheers were heard from almost everywhere, as the copies of this speech were written, people rose to arms.
The Armolian Revolution... And later, Massacre, began.
Chapter: Prologue, end.