AN: I'm back! Anyway, I am experimenting with a new style...you'll get the hang of it pretty quick, tell me what you think. If you can't figure it out after the 6th chapter or so, then nevermind. I also a 'Preface', that kind of tells about Rogshia. It's more for my benefit as a writer than the readers, but if y'all want to see it leave a comment for me to put it up. It's kind of long and dry...but, anyway, here is The Rogshian Revolution!

Chapter 1

The Rogshian Times

3rd Day of Spring, TE-896

Nicolas II crowned King of Rogshia!

The first day of our Spring marked the beginning of a new era as Nicolas the Second, son of Alexius the Third, was crowned King of Rogshia. Lurigard was resplendent in color as celebrating people lined literally every street, shouting their enthusiasm and approval of their new King, who, after his coronation at the Green Palace, paraded around town for a full three hours. Many of the women spectators remarked on how handsome he looked, despite his lack-of-stature considering that his mother was a full-blooded Cerstrian. The men, however, could be heard in every tavern discussing over a pint of ale what they considered the advantageous attributes of their new King...that he enjoys fishing, hunting, riding, and his family.

Lurigard was not the only place to rejoice in the Coronation of Nicolas II. Delegates from all 170 city-states were present with the presence of mind to bring presents. One of the many notable gifts was a wagonload of bushels and bushels of fish from Artlarntvastak. The Great King, in his generosity and gentleness of heart, distributed the food to the masses immediately after receiving it, even though the fish was only slightly spoiled. Many other gifts to the new King were also given back to the People, who showed their gratitude with the most heart-warming thanks.

It is not necessary to inform the reader that the only shadow upon this bright dawn is what brought about the need of it. It was in the Month of Frozen Tears that our good King Alexius III died, leaving the throne to his son. To show his desire for a positive change, Nicolas put off his coronation until our Month of Spring, to signify that his reign will lead our country away from the hunger and cold and into wealth, warmth, and happiness. King Nicolas was married to Alexandria before King Alexius death, as the dying monarch desired to see his son married.

Dimitri tossed the newspaper to the ground and squashed it with his factory-made, hard-leather boot. He leaned against the dark concrete wall of some abandoned warehouse and looked at the gathering crowd of spectators, poor people all. The early spring sun had just begun to set, casting an ominous blandness over the city square of hard packed dirt. The square was enclosed on three sides by walls of drab concrete buildings, it was an efficient city--not ornamental. The west side of the semi-enclosure was bordered by a little bay to a swiftly flowing river, the Urgon River. The place was Lurigard, gateway to the West. Dimitri sighed, and fondly remembered a girl he had met while in 'the West'. In actuality, there were many different nations, both west and south of Rogshia, but to Rogshians their was West, South, and Rogshia. Dimitri saw himself explaining this to his paramour, gently he had spoken, and gently had he held her. She was the one who taught him how to drive a motor-car. He didn't have many chances to learn in the relative poverty of Rogshia. He didn't have many chances to do much of anything, and neither did any of the other peasants and factory workers who comprised over ninety-percent of Rogshia's population. That was why the poor crowd of spectators had come here to this place, they expected more gifts from the King.

Dimitri pushed himself off the wall and laughed, a dark, bitter sound. The ignorance of these people, he thought to himself, the ignorance that led them to wait in cold night air, just for the chance of another free cup of rotten ale, or a moldy roll of bread. 'The Great King's generosity and gentleness of heart,' bah. Dimitri almost wished he had never been in the West, he wished he still had the bliss of ignorance. But it was not to be. He walked to the fringes of the masses, and plunged himself into their malleable interior. The luckier ones had already established a claim on some tiny area of real-estate, their cloth tent-ends flapping in the wind. But most made their bed on the lumpy ground, scraping out a comfortable shape in the ground like so many dogs.

Then the girl caught his attention. It was Sofi, his co-laborer. He slowly made his way to her through the oblivious mass of bodies. Seeing him coming towards her, she lowered her waving white arm back into the anonymity of her black cloak, her intense eyes in the shadows of her cloak’s hood watching him approach.

“Sofi.” Dimitri’s hushed his normally stentorian voice. There was no need to draw attention to themselves, not yet. With that one word, he asked a question. She nodded the affirmative.

“We are ready.” She said.

“Then it shall begin.”

She walked out and away from the crowd, a cloaked being of secret power. He walked in and throughout the crowd, implanting suggestions into the minds of any who met his hypnotic gaze. When the sun’s last sliver was about to hide behind the horizon, he quickly fled from the people, and headed into the heart of the city. He turned to look just as the sun’s shimmering edge slipped beneath the oppressive sky, painting a sighing glint on the Urgon River’s reflective ripples. The absence of sun was an easy trigger for many mind tricks, and his suggestions soon ripened in the minds of many in the mass of virtual beggars. A rumor spread throughout the encamped thousands and tens of thousands, King Nicolas was offering the best presents yet, but as there were not enough for all the people, he had placed the gifts on the opposite bank of the river, and those who wanted them had to take the merchant boats in Lurigard’s docks across the River…or swim four hundred yards.

Dimitri stood and listened to the bellows of impatient men, the screeches of competitive boys, the hollers of mothers being parted from their children in the ensuing stampede. Like a herd of sheep frightened only because one of their comrades showed fear, those who had not a hypnosis spell cast over them began to run with the rest, not knowing whether they were running to or away from something, they did not know if they were coming or going. Then the first laments were made audible as mothers screamed over their trampled babies. The staccato laughter of the children turned harsh and dissonant as greedy knees knocked them to the ground and frightened feet pounded the life out of them. The aged toothless who did find a hiding place from the torrent of bony flesh muttered their last curses.

Every small fishing vessel, every large merchant boat, everything was soon occupied, filled, and overflowing with people, heading towards a lie on the other side. The might river’s current was already made strong by spring’s melting, but when most of the boats were halfway across, an even greater, broader, and stronger current seemed to flow from nowhere, dragging men and ships down alike.

Dimitri dropped his shoulders in correlation to his face. He turned away from the screams of drowning peasants and lamenting mothers, and walked away. He was Dimitri, and this was his first job.

The next day, five hundred were to be found trampled to death on the land. Five thousand were never to be found, a victim of the River, a victim of bad luck, or a victim of something much worse.