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The Second Resistance

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To say Engelstov was a welcome change to Bulgenstaz would be undoubtedly false. The price the Bulgenstazi people had payed for freedom, the 50,000 lives, the 50,000 pure souls, had not been in the name of his brutality. Dmitry Mendhelson knew this much. The SRRB had not been formed to oppress, but to rejuvenate, to bring hope to the fledgeling nation. It now served in the place the colonials had left, oppressive and unbending, a slaver to the masses. The SRRB was deaf to the cries for democracy and freedom by the people of Bulgenstaz. If there would be change, it would be now, and it must be swift.

"Comrades, we cannot give in to this oppression. We cannot let the tyrant Engelstov replace the imperialists as dictator of our country!" shouted Mendhelson as he stood atop a car a few miles south of Bulganda. It was the time to strike. Opposition had grown in the wake of Engelstov's purges, and many prominent and popular politicians had been deposed. Mendhelson had been one, and felt himself fortunate enough he was not killed outright. He had promoted democracy, freedom, and representation for the Bulgenstazi during the revolution, something Engelstov and his Revolutionary Guard would never stand for. "Their chance for reform is over! We demonstrated our dedication to sovereignty two years ago, and we will not hesitate to demonstrate our demand for representation now!"

The crowd roared and weapons fired. There would be no return for these souls; the SRRB would never let such traitors live. Mendheson knew this and accepted the importance of the second revolution all the same. A revolution for a free Bulgenstaz: the People's Republic of Bulgenstaz. Their justice would be swift and final. Whether they march on Khenkhourt or have their bodies washed down the Bulga could not matter less, ultimately. They would enter Bulganda tonight, and there would be blood. The revolutionaries were poorly equipped compared to the Revolutionary Guard, but they held a fervor of a cornered cat: a jaguar. How can good lose to the embodiment of evil that is Engelstov and his Revolutionary Guard? They were correct, their motives pure, "How could we lose? How could we lose when we are millions and they are nothing?"

Night towered overhead. Certainly they would be remembered for their bravery, if they won or lost. Martyrdom was the worst possible scenario. "We cannot lose more than we have already lost, comrades! I say we march now, under the veil of night; mother Mayari Bulan will protect us. Go now, in the name of the Republic of Bulgenstaz!" Again, cries of the revolutionaries filled the air as they vanished into the jungles. Some others walked to join Mendhelson.

"Surely you will be the one to bring our country beyond the greatness of what it once was, under the three kingdoms!" said one, who seemed to lead the militia, "I am Borey Askov, I will help to bring our nation to greatness; you, Mendhelson, must be the Tathanh, the one who will lead our country to victory."

The gravity of this exchange came to Dmitry Mendhelson quickly: this would mark the legitimacy of the new republic. If the leader of the militia names Mendhelson Tathanh then it would rest on his shoulders to carry Bulgenstaz from the weight of Engelstov and the SRRB. "My thanks to you, general Askov. I graciously accept my duty to you and to the people of Bulgenstaz.  Together we will lead the people and guide them to freedom and equality. But we must move with our people as they enter Bulganda; we must be there for the inevitable victory!"

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