A vast sea of workers flowed through the labyrinthine streets and winding alleyways of the Central District, an undulating river of laborers set against the backdrop of opulent architecture and the extravagance of unwitting locals who had found themselves ensnared in this unexpected parade. They watched with a blend of unsympathetic sadness and awe, an unwitting audience to a revolution in the making. The workers, dressed in their humble attire, marched resolutely, brandishing signs and slogans scrawled hastily on bits of paper affixed to crude wooden poles. Red, gold, and black banners featuring hammers and the defiant letter 'A' fluttered throughout the crowd, signaling the presence of numerous Alderian sympathizers. Amid the throng, there were smiles and an air of cheerful defiance, a collective pride in their ability to rally so many laborers in the very heart of the Central District. Yet, the palpable sense of newfound freedom was tempered by the overwhelming presence of mounted police and countless officers, their watchful eyes a stark reminder of the government's dominance.
The procession inched its way toward the imposing Central Imperial Square, affording glimpses of the Grand Palace that loomed majestically on the banks of the Valerion River. Adrian and Artemia navigated the sea of protesters, exchanging excited glances and exchanging greetings with fellow demonstrators. But amid the celebratory atmosphere, Adrian's gaze occasionally drifted to the person holding the A.L.L flag, his instincts gnawing at him with a deep sense of distrust and suspicion.
"I knew you'd enjoy this, Adrian!" Artemia shouted over the clamor of the crowd, ensuring her voice carried through the noise.
Adrian grinned, acknowledging, "You've got me there. This is a monumental event, and I bet the Department is scrambling to maintain order and security." He cast a wary glance up at one of the building's rooftops, where an armed policeman aimed his rifle into the thick mass of people, an unsettling sight that left Adrian on edge.
"Perhaps they let you go to spare you from all this Department stress," Artemia teased, her grin infectious.
"I wasn't let go, Artemia. I was betrayed," Adrian corrected, his tone unyielding. "Honestly, I doubt the Department even had advance knowledge of this. Their response feels rushed."
Artemia shrugged, then let out an exhilarated shout. Adrian, bewildered, scanned his surroundings, his expression etched with concern, until he spotted Artemia sprinting toward two young men participating in the procession. She extended her arms enthusiastically, enveloping each of them in a tight, fraternal embrace. Then, she turned and beckoned for Adrian to join their impromptu reunion. Sighing, he reluctantly trudged closer to the boisterous group.
"Comrades, allow me to introduce Detective Adrian Belinsky," Artemia declared with a wide grin, her pride evident. "Without him, the Vipers would likely have me locked up in some basement by now."
The two young men cast dubious glances at Adrian, refraining from extending a handshake and merely offering a curt nod in acknowledgment. Their expressions lacked the exuberance that had greeted Artemia.
"Adrian, meet Tima and Red," Artemia presented her friends. "They're my comrades from the Eastern District."
"Artemia, hold on a minute. He's a cop," Red interjected, his hand clasping Artemia's arm.
"Isn't he the reason you had to flee in the first place?" Tima added.
"Guys, he's not a cop anymore. He was fired a few weeks ago," Artemia clarified.
"I wasn't fired..." Adrian attempted to explain, but Artemia promptly cut him off.
"He claims he was betrayed, but in the end, it amounts to the same thing."
"I'm not so sure about that, Artemia. He could be working undercover," Red argued, folding his arms skeptically.
"Trust me, he's not," Artemia countered, flashing a mischievous grin in Adrian's direction. Adrian responded with a bemused look, perplexed by her statement.
Then, Tima burst out, "Wait, are you two a couple?"
Adrian and Artemia simultaneously turned their heads toward each other, mirroring identical expressions of bewilderment. In unison, they responded, "No!" before exchanging surprised glances.
Red and Tima exchanged amused glances before breaking into hearty laughter.
"Hey, guys, it's not what you think," Artemia protested, attempting to quell their mirth but failing.
Adrian, who appeared more mature and reserved than the group, decided to take his leave and wander off on his own. "Artemia, I think I'll head out. You enjoy your time with your friends."
"Absolutely not," Artemia declared, gripping Adrian's arm and playfully intertwining hers with his. "I didn't go to all this trouble to get you out of your shell just to let you slip away so easily."
Adrian gave her a half-smile and conceded, "Alright, you lead the way, boss."
Red and Tima exchanged gleeful glances once more before a stern look from Artemia quelled their laughter, returning the group to a semblance of order.
The group soon found themselves at Central Imperial Square, where the path toward the Grand Palace was cordoned off by an imposing police presence armed with machine guns. Adrian couldn't help but notice a substantial stand bearing the emblem of the Liberal Party, its blue and gold colors contrasting starkly with the sea of red flags and armbands that the crowd proudly displayed. A diminutive figure in a three-piece black suit and a bowler hat stood out distinctly against the masses before him. Adrian observed as Red and Tima exchanged red armbands and extended one to Artemia, who naturally adorned herself with it. The men offered Adrian an apologetic look for not having an extra armband, but he waved away their concerns.
The man in the bowler hat poked the microphone in front of him, creating an irritating electric buzz on the speakers that ruffled the crowd's patience. Clearing his throat, he began to theatrically read from a paper, placing strong emphasis on each word that rolled off his tongue. "Dear ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the first Imperial workers' strike of the Northern District woodcutters and woodworkers, demanding higher wages and better conditions!" The man adjusted his hat and scanned the crowd with his one visible eye, anticipating a roaring reaction. However, the response was mixed at best. Undeterred, he continued, "We at the Liberal Party are always eager to support our friends in the factories in advancing their interests." Laughter rippled through the crowd, drowning out the speaker's words. Adrian could discern someone from the audience mimicking him in a humorous fashion. Another voice shouted, "Are you making deals with the factory owners now?" followed by applause from nearby onlookers. Wiping sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, the speaker skipped a few pages in his speech before pressing on, "It is my distinct pleasure to invite to this stage our esteemed leader, a true patriot of the Empire and a staunch supporter of workers' rights - Mr. Tyler Kopsky!"
As Tyler's name rang out, the crowd's roar turned into a thunderous chorus of boos. Adrian strained his eyes, desperately attempting to spot Tyler amidst the sea of people, but the sheer mass made it an impossible task. A set of steps to the side caught his attention, and he quickly ascended them, granting him a vantage point above the tumultuous crowd. The boos intensified as Tyler took the stage, shedding his jacket and hat, revealing an outfit that met the highest standards of the Imperial parliament. Rolling up his sleeves, he approached the microphone.
"Friends," he began, his voice attempting to cut through the uproar, "The past year has been difficult for all of us." The booing grew louder, and hats and papers were hurled toward the stage in disdain. "I know what you're going through. I know what loss feels like."
Adrian's face twisted in concern as he whispered under his breath, "Leave the stage; they'll tear you apart." His words seemed to foreshadow the impending chaos. A glass bottle sailed through the air, landing at Tyler's feet. The crowd's chants of 'Alder, Alder, Alder' drowned out his speech, and a barrage of stones, bottles, and sticks followed, pelting the stage relentlessly. In a flash, Tyler retreated to the rear of the platform, leaving behind his hat and jacket, seeking refuge under the protection of the police.
In the midst of the turmoil, Adrian realized that Artemia and her friends were nowhere to be found. He scanned the area frantically, calling out their names in vain. Meanwhile, the crowd surged onto the stage, replacing the Liberal Party's banners and flags with those of the Alderian Labor League. In the distance, shots rang out, and the crowd's roar escalated as they confronted a line of young policemen brandishing rifles, aimed directly at them. Some protesters screamed at the officers, while others attempted to reason with them, urging them to join the cause and march toward the palace. Yet, the police remained immovable, unswayed by the impassioned pleas.
One red-faced officer raised his voice, commanding the crowd to step back and away from the police line. But it was too late; the surging masses from behind forced those at the front to advance, even if they wished to retreat. In a grim moment, the officer shouted, "Fire!" Without hesitation, the line of policemen opened fire on the protestors. The front row of people crumpled to the ground like sacks of potatoes, leaving those behind them in shock and rage. A deadly exchange of gunfire erupted, with some protesters firing from behind the fallen bodies, while the policemen struggled to back away, their rifles discharging indiscriminately into the throng. Chaos consumed the square as panic and anger spiraled out of control.
Adrian knew he couldn't remain perched above any longer; he had to find Artemia amidst the chaos below. Once back on the ground, he stumbled upon a police-issued revolver, still clutched by a dying officer. With determined strength, he wrested it from the officer's lifeless grip. Now armed, he surveyed the tumultuous scene, desperately seeking a path to safety. He navigated through narrow alleyways, putting distance between himself and the unfolding violence in the square.
Adrian's gaze lifted, and his blood ran cold as he spotted a group of figures dressed entirely in black with a few of them atop black horses. They wore wide-brimmed hats and adorned their chests with shiny golden crown pins—the unmistakable attire of the Royal Department.
His heart pounded with a mix of dread and fury as he witnessed Artemia being brutally dragged by her hair, her screams echoing through the turmoil. Without a moment's hesitation, Adrian propelled himself toward the operatives. They quickly became aware of his approach, leveling their guns in his direction. One of them, mounted on a horse, drew a slim sword-knife, its glint sending shivers down Adrian's spine. Artemia, catching sight of Adrian, screamed at him to stay away. The perilous standoff hung in the balance.
"Listen to her, go away before we kill you!" one of the operatives shouted at Adrian.
Adrian, his heart pounding, faced the armed operatives, slowly lifting his arms while clutching the revolver tightly. "I mean no harm," he declared, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "My name is Detective Adrian Belinsky. This woman is aiding me in my investigation; I need her."
"Adrian Belinsky, what a coincidence," remarked a man on horseback, taking a few steps closer to Artemia. He pulled down the black cloth covering the lower part of his face, revealing a sardonic smile and a thin mustache. "We fire you, and here you are, joining the protest and trying to protect this Alderian wench," he sneered, delivering a harsh kick to Artemia, who stifled a cry of pain. "You've proven quite agile in changing allegiances, Belinsky."
Suppressing his seething anger, Adrian questioned, "Who are you?"
A commanding voice rang out, "No one you should be speaking to with a gun in your hand. Drop it."
Adrian gazed solemnly at Artemia, sprawled on the unforgiving ground. Slowly, he crouched, his hands still raised, carefully placing the gun on the pavement. In the tense silence, two shots suddenly pierced the air from behind Adrian. He instinctively turned, his eyes widening as he saw Tima and Red firing from a distance at the Royal Department operatives. Whipping back to the front, Adrian witnessed one of the operatives crumpling to the ground, a perfectly placed shot squarely between his eyes.
A man on horseback, now their prime threat, aimed his weapon squarely at Adrian. In a lightning-quick movement, Adrian's hand shot out, his finger squeezing the trigger, and a shot rang out. A searing pain erupted in his arm, and he clutched it instinctively to stem the bleeding. The man on the horse tumbled to the ground, surrounded by operatives desperately returning fire toward Tima and Red in the distance while attempting to target Adrian simultaneously. Adrian took precise shots at the Royal Department agents before seeing them beat a hasty retreat with their commander. As Adrian cautiously approached Artemia, his battered body trembled, wracked by both exhaustion and agony. The grueling exertions of the day had taken a toll on him, but his determination remained unyielding. With each meticulous inch of progress he made, he felt the relentless onslaught of pain, sharp and searing, like relentless electric shocks coursing through him. Yet, the thought of Artemia lying there, hurt and vulnerable, fueled his every step.
In the distance, he heard the anxious voices of Tima and Red, rapidly closing the gap between them. Their urgent footsteps echoed in harmony with Adrian's own racing heartbeat.108Please respect copyright.PENANAkj5V4GvPov
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