Author's Note: Thanks to all who reviewed for the last chapter! Ask any questions you may have in a review!
This chapter is all about the rebels. :)
"I'm not just going to sit around on my ass anymore! I can't wait any longer!" He stood up from the table harshly.
"Lovino, stop! You're not thinking this through!" Antonio seized his shoulder, preventing him from moving to leave the hall.
"What is there to think through, basterdo?! He's still alive! I saw him! I haven't seen him ever since he was taken from us! He's been put under their spell and I refuse to let him live like that forever!"
Lovino was boiling with rage, everyone around him was telling him to keep a level head and to do what was right instead of what was rash. What the fuck did they mean by right?! The only right thing to do was to go down there and get his brother back from those monsters that took him away! The Nation thought they were so damn great, the elites running every fucking thing, controlling everyone, turning their noses up at anyone that didn't fit their criteria - pain in the fucking neck! They brought this damn war upon themselves. They should have known that someone would get tired of a game that no one wanted to play. And after discriminating against half the population, rounding up his people and turning them into lab rats, looking so damn surprised whenever a rebellion breaks out against them, having the nerve to sway the cowards of the Nation by calling them savage heathens, and ordering a draft to slaughter and capture those who know where the truth and corruption rested at...you'd think they'd have enough. No, they decided to capture his younger brother and take away hundreds and thousands of people to become their slaves and drones. No way in hell was he going to let them do more!
And now that Lovino had the verification that Feliciano was still alive, the fools here wouldn't let him go save his damn life! What the hell?!
Antonio protested, "You can't go throwing your life away just because you saw him!"
"You don't know where they're keeping him at!" Another soldier chimed in.
"You don't even know if he has a conscious anymore! They could have stripped him of his free will!" Another added.
"I do know that!" Lovino barked, "He looked at me as if he knew me! He remembers me! If they've done something to him then he's not completely gone!"
"But that was weeks ago! By now they've probably stripped him of who he is - or they're close to it. Lovi, it's a lost cause. You'd get yourself killed trying it."
The Italian responded with a killing glare and snapped, "Shut up, stupida cagna! You don't know what it's like to lose your brother! I don't want to hear a word out of you until Mattie gets captured and taken away from you! Then you wouldn't tell me it's no fucking 'lost cause'!" Lovino sat back down at the meeting table and smacked his fist against the mahogany wood, hiding his face in his other arm, and muttering strings of curse words.
All of the individuals at the table understood and sympathized with Lovino's pain, but there was too much at stake for him of all people to be journeying into the heart of the Nation to retrieve Feliciano - especially if they didn't know if he was truly still a rebel at heart. It had been so long since his capture, that it was likely he was already rolling over to the government like one of their dogs. Of course, none of them wanted to believe a word of that, but there was no solid evidence that he was still the same as he was before he taken prisoner.
Antonio placed his hand on Lovino's back, stroking it with sympathy. He didn't like seeing his dearest in such distress, and he honestly wanted him to be happy and for Feliciano to be back fighting with them - but he couldn't bear it if he got killed trying in vain to save his younger brother. He asked, "Is there no way we could have a small undercover unit preform recon?"
The two at the head of the table exchanged a quick glance and one spoke, "It probably wouldn't be impossible if we actually knew where he was being held. I'm certain that the Nation's scientists and doctors have more than one testing facility."
At the word "testing", Lovino growled like an enraged pit bull.
The other responded, "Besides...we can't make any decisions without the King's permission." The rest of the table groaned in agony at the mention of the name. Chatter immediatley erupted.
"I swear - why in the world do we even have that man ruling over us?! He doesn't even believe that we have a chance at winning this thing!"
"While that bastard sits on his high throne and wastes the day away, his son is doing all the work that he should be doing!"
"The Prince should be leading us!"
"He wasn't old enough to lead whenever there was the succession..."
"He's old enough now!"
"I swear, I'm waiting on an assassin to get the cue."
"Why don't you just do it yourself?"
"I think I might actually!"
Antonio protested, "That's enough!" he smacked his hands down on the table and the talking immediatley stopped. "The King may not be what we need for us at the moment, but it's far too harsh to be talking about his death so casually! Once he dies things probably will look up; but, until that happens, spare me all the eagerness and approval for killing the King. What do you think the Prince would say if he heard you?" He crossed his arms over his chest.
"'Grab an axe'?" someone called out. The room burst into loud laughter, and even Lovino was chuckling by now.
Antonio rolled his eyes, "The lot of you are sick. You're starting to sound like the savages we're made out to be."
"Don't be such a sourpuss Toni! I'm pretty sure that everyone complains about their politics from time to time."
"Heh, not in the Nation, those idiots just beam and blush in the eyes of those damned elite bastards."
"Oi, a lady like yourself ought to not be saying such harsh words. It's unrefined!"
"Don't tease her, you screamed like a girl whenever a football rolled into your tent two nights ago and merely brushed up against your foot."
At once, the room began to quiet down and settled it's eyes on the man who spoke last. The girl whom he defended scooted closer to him and he put his arm around her. One person growled from the other side of the room, "I don't want the former Nation trash to be thinking that he's the voice of reason."
"Hey, I've earned my right to be here just as you all did!" he snapped.
"No way in hell! If we hadn't saved your ass, you'd be blown to bits by now!"
"And stay away from Emma!" another person yelled.
"Shut up, Lars! That damn pride of yours is going to get you in trouble!" Emma shouted back. Bickering broke out among the soldiers. It was hard to believe that this group represented the tight-knit brotherhood that the rebels truly were. They used that strength to their advantage, as the Nation's troops often had trouble trusting one another. But, now, the lot of them were just being utterly foolish.
One man slouched in his chair and sighed, "Can't we all just get back to picking daisies?"
His brother agreed, "With all these hurt feelings, someone's gonna be pushing up daisies even before we head out to the front lines."
One of the men at the head of the table heard the pair of brothers, and called out with his booming voice, "Enough! With this much fighting we'll just tear each other apart before the Nation can even get their hands on us! There's nothing worth fighting over so there's no point in wasting your time doing it!" Things began to settle down, and everyone silently agreed with him. "Zwingli."
The man with Emma looked up at his commanding officer.
"You've proven your worth to us in my eyes, but that won't stop others from thinking otherwise. I don't want to hear anymore about how worthy you are. If another man or woman wishes to speak against that, prove them wrong. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut."
"Yes sir."
"Good, now onto the other matters," he looked over at Lovino. "It pleases me to hear that the other Vargas has lasted this long, but I don't want to risk sending any of our men into the heart of their territory. Our numbers are fewer as it is."
One voice piped up, "Can't we simply send a mission of the Eastern fighters?" A couple of soldiers nodded in agreement.
The other man at the head of the table shook his head, "No. They'd likely be offended that we weren't sending in our own to get one person. And if they got killed, there's a chance they might back out of the alliance." They'd be finished by now if it wasn't for the alliance with the Eastern Empire. They had done so much for the rebels; supplying them, sending troops to serve them, assisting with setting up their government, sharing resources and knowledge, and the Emperor even offered to strengthen their relations by allowing one of his daughters to marry the Prince. Not one of them would even dare try something to even remotely irritate the Emperor or the Empire.
"But there has to be some way! It's not just him! The Nation has stockpiled thousands upon thousands of our people! If they can be rescued, we could have a chance of winning!" Lovino protested.
"That we could," someone responded, "But there's nothing we can do to get them back without risking our hides."
"If only there was a way we could contact someone on the inside."
"Can't we let Zwingli go back to the Nation as a spy? He was one of their own before."
"If they hadn't counted me as dead already, I wouldn't have had a problem with that."
"Why does it matter if they count you as dead? You show back up and everyone weeps with joy that their precious friend survived." A couple snickers were heard around the room.
"The issue is that if I return, they'll more than likely shove me back into a uniform and hand me a gun and order me to shoot. If I sneak past the border then I could be caught and turned in for desertion." A cook came in and set down food on the table, a large cheese fondue pot with assorted delights for everyone to take as they pleased.
"He's right. The only way we could accomplish it is if we had an agent already on the inside. But there's no way that would work," another agreed sadly.
Zwingli was deep in thought, but there was one thing flickering at the back of his mind. One of the members of his family...they were called away from the army and if he had done what he was supposed to do, he might be close to the government. He could be what they were looking for!
"General Adnan, if I could bring something to your attention-"
"General Adnan and General Karpusi, your attention is needed immediatley, sir!" A man strode into the meeting hall and saluted the two leaders.
Karpusi nodded, "Permission to speak, lieutenant."
He frowned, "There's a messenger outside from the Nation. He says that the orders are classified until they reach your eyes."
Adnan sighed, "Very well, send him in."
"Yes sir," the man hurried out and showed the messenger inside the hall. Closing the door harshly, the messenger jumped out of nervousness and approached the table, looking a little bewildered at everything within the hall.
The meeting hall was decorated with arms, collected from both the Eastern Empire and the Nation, along with weapons of their own design. The room was nice, considering how much the Empire wanted to treat their allies. Along with promises of trade (that couldn't be accomplished very well currently, due to how mostly everyone who agreed to participate in the rebellion were either fighting or were pooling their money towards the war effort), they had pledged to aid them in their time of need as well. The Empire considered the rebels to be quite generous, as they planned at least a temporary alliance with the rebels because of their hatred towards the Nation as well. Military-based governments often racked up more enemies than friends anyway.
Adnan chuckled at the Nation's courier, "Did members of the Nation always walk so slowly, or was this a newly acquired rule?" A number of the men at the table burst into laughter, making the messenger a little more nervous.
Karpusi smirked, "He's joking. Quit looking like you just walked into a den of starving jungle cats. We respect the principle to not 'shoot the messenger'. What do the bastards over there want from us?"
The messenger handed General Karpusi the orders and General Adnan leaned over to peek at them as well. Eventually the messenger spoke, "I'm honestly very surprised at this place." The rest of the table took a break at chattering among themselves and looked over at the courier. He looked over at everyone and said, "I don't know...I just expected the rebels to be more..."
"Savage?"
"Blood-thirsty cannibals?"
"Rude?" a couple people laughed at the last one.
The messenger looked sheepish, "I guess...I mean, you can't really ignore the propaganda that the government feeds us." He then held up his hands, "But seeing all this, I'm just shocked. The places over here are nice, I guess, a lot more rustic and that sort of thing." In his mindset, he was somewhat amazed that these people who lived like third-world countries could still put up a terrific fight against the reigning Nation.
One of the girls at the table chuckled, "Well, all we have is each other now, don't we? It's no wonder there's a better atmosphere on this side."
The messenger blinked, "Pardon?"
The girl grinned creepily, it was even starting to creep out her comrades, "I mean, after all the harassment and discrimination and wickedness pointed at us, it's such a lovely miracle that we can get ahold of all this stuff to make a decent civilization and hold up an army to tear the lot of you down. Such a lovely miracle indeed." She proceeded to mutter in her seat, curling some of the dark hair of her pigtails.
He appeared a tad offended and he hissed at her, "Well I'm sorry that you're ungrateful, rat. If you hadn't gone against the Nation, you wouldn't be in this pitiful rut." He certainly wasn't quiet enough because the majority of the table turned to glare at him, baring snarls on their faces. He nearly turned his nose up at them. Maybe the government was right, they were just pure savages. He turned back to the two Generals, awaiting their response.
Adnan looked displeased, "This sure as hell better be real, because I have no remorse killing liars. Or messengers belonging to liars."
The messenger flinched and snapped, "It's true! Down to the letter!"
Soldiers called from down the table, most of them still eating fondue, "What does it say?"
"What do they want from us?"
"Haven't they done enough already?"
"Is it a surrender?"
Adnan shushed everyone and Karpusi said, "They're asking for attendance of a pair of authority figures to discuss the terms of a treaty."
"Treaty?!"
"It's gotta be some sort of trick!"
"No way they'd want to have a treaty with us!"
"Maybe they're actually intimidated by us now!"
"I don't give a shit if they are! They don't deserve any of our time!"
"It's an assassination! Assassination I say!"
"As soon as they call truce, they'll just stab us in the back!"
The two Generals didn't really know what to do. It could be an easy trap, but the Nation could be telling the truth. Maybe their wounded and mutated were stacking up and they needed to send them off to the cities for treatment? Both Generals both wished at the same time that they could ask Zwingli and the Prince what they recommended. Zwingli was once a pretty high ranking member of their army, so it was likely he had some sort of opinion on the matter, and the Prince was well educated and clever. His opinion would be valuable as well.
Karpusi asked, "Is there anyway we can delay a response?"
"No, the authorities of the Nation need a response immediatley. Certainly you can manage a simple 'yes' or 'no'?"
Adnan muttered a "shit" under his breath, and he locked eyes with Zwingli at the other end of the table. The blonde nodded curtly and Adnan whispered something into Karpusi's ear.
The rebel General leered, "Well tell them that we will meet them in a few days." Karpusi handed the notice to Adnan and the larger man proceeded to tear up the letter. The smaller General frowned, "And don't bother delivering for us again. The next time we see your ass in our territory, there will be a bullet in it. Guaranteed."
The messenger huffed and headed out the door, his pompous attitude following close behind him. When he muttered a loud enough remark of "devil's bastards" and slammed the door shut, Adnan whipped out a two way radio. He pressed the "all recievers" button and said into the speaker, "If any of you see that Nation trash walking around outside, make sure you give him a farewell worthy of us 'savage and blood-thirsty dogs called rebels'. We have a reputation to hold up, y'know."
There were laughs of approval heard from the other end, and they chorused with the ones that could be heard from the soldiers at the table.
Antonio called, "Does this mean that the treaty is off, amigo?"
Adnan shook his head, "Nah, we'll play with the elites. We'll see what game they've set out for us, and work with what we have. We just have to pick the right people to go in case if any trouble starts up." The majority of the table looked quite discourage of the idea of forming a treaty with the Nation, but they didn't want to keep fighting the bastards forever. Most of them were certain that it wasn't promising, and that it could give the Nation the advantage to attack them when they didn't expect it. It wasn't fair. The Nation was too large, too corrupt, and they were ruthless. The rebels had no desire to capture people and turn them into drones. They were the underdogs, and they didn't have much of a chance at winning with all the shit the enemy was throwing at them.
Adnan and Karpusi could only hope that they were making the right choice. Zwingli seemed to think so, and they just had to pray that he was right.
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