Just Tyranny

 When tyranny becomes law, rebellion becomes duty. And with the current state of the Verland Empire, what can the rulers be called if not tyrants?

Robin was once a fairly high-ranking member of the royal military. Like many of his then colleagues, he could have turned a blind eye to the increased suffering of the common people after King Julius took the throne. He was being paid a salary comfortable enough for him to have a large house in the capital city, and he had no family to worry about.

But even as he rose through the ranks, he had kept his origins as a simple country boy close to his heart. He couldn’t help but imagine his own parents in such a situation, and the many children of the Empire who were in such a reality.

This army general now gazed in silence at the stars. The view of the starry constellations was far clearer from here in the forests than it was in the capital. It brought back fond memories of camping with his family.

Robin should have been in his tent. The night patrol shifts had long since been decided, and he was sure that the Empire didn’t know that his rebel group was hiding out in the Reness Forest. There was no reason to be looking out into the snowy woods in paranoia, expecting a surprise attack. Yet, here he was.

The ex-general sighed, shaking his head. He turned around and decided to check on the two rebels on night-watch duty. If he was going to remain awake, he should do something actually useful.

The quiet silence of the forest, interspersed with the sounds of chirping insects, was broken by the crackling flames. Two men in thick jackets and mufflers sat by the fire. They looked up at their approaching leader when he came closer.

“John, Adams,” Robin acknowledged, and remained standing. He relaxed slightly as he absorbed the comfortable heat. He hadn’t grown used to the miserably cold weather in the northern Empire just yet, as used to the humid capital as he was.

“Sir,” John replied, nodding once along with his companion. He’d been a former soldier under Robin in the army, and had defected along with his general and several other soldiers.

The rebel leader smiled at the familiar succinct speech. “Anything abnormal?” He asked as a courtesy, intending to make the men feel more comfortable before switching to another topic.

“No,” Adams shook his head. The wind blew through the forest, shaking the few remaining leaves off the dead trees, and causing Robin to shiver miserably.

Strangely, neither Adams nor John showed any reaction to the freezing temperatures. Having come from the coast, they were even more unfamiliar with the snowy northern weather. Yet, unlike how they had been complaining that morning and clutching at their scarves, the men remained stoic in the face of the gale.

This in itself wouldn’t cause much alarm. Perhaps they had simply grown numb to the cold after several hours. But Robin noticed that they were sitting far too close to each other as well.

Being disciplined soldiers, as well as receiving strict training and instructions from Robin, they knew to not sit beside one another while they were rebels. It was now an instinct engraved into them to maintain a distance from their companions during night-watch duty.

If any enemies happened to attack, this would ensure that both men wouldn’t be taken out in a single attack, and that they would have a wider field of view. It would also allow for time to respond and defend oneself if the other man turned out to be a traitor.

Yet, having been repeatedly told this, they were still ignoring his words. From previous instances of having watched them at their earlier camps in Gertain and Bersac, he was sure they were well aware of the procedure. But they violated it here?

Robin had a growing unease, and a suspicion arose within him. “Anything normal?” He questioned mildly, as though nothing was wrong. The general fought to keep a nonchalant attitude and calm facade.

“No,” Adams repeated, as succinctly as before. He didn’t seem to realize the oddness of the question, nor of his reply. John remained similarly stoic. Their eyes were glazed, as though they weren’t looking at him, but through him. Robin only grew more worried.

But he hadn’t come this far by panicking needlessly. He nodded shortly at the rebels, and turned around to return to his tent like normal. He planned to grab his knife and shotgun from where had kept them. As for killing John and Adams after that, he was still working on a plan to ambush them.

The snow crunched beneath his feet as he walked away. The sound of the crackling flames grew fainter, and the strangely-behaving men looked away to stare at the orange light.

Upon reaching his tent, Robin entered slowly, and walked up to his sleeping bag. He reached under the cloth to grasp his weapons, when he heard a sound from behind him.

The rebel leader whirled around, knife in hand and heart pounding. John and Adams stood silently at the entrance to his tent, shotguns in their hands pointing at him. He hadn’t heard them follow him. Their eyes remained unfocused, but he knew that the moment he tried to lunge for one of them, the other would send a bullet into his head.

He had no choice. He would have to yell out for help, even if that would spell his death. The other men should at least get a chance to live, without dying in their sleep to the traitors. Robin’s heart calmed down as he accepted his fate, and his mouth opened to raise the alarm.

At that moment, he heard screams from outside the tent, not from him. The sound of bullets being fired and bodies hitting the ground disrupted the calm quiet of the forest. He heard his men yelling at each other, and he realized what had happened.

“We’re under attack!” He heard one man cry out, recognizing his voice to be that of his second-in-command. “It’s the royal army!”