churgles
Spectator
Sophie Greene crouched, silently, next to a tall tree deep in the forests of northern Caledonia. Dusk approached, and she felt confident that the government’s soldiers would not be able to see her from the narrow road that wound through the thick fauna.
Sophie – Captain Greene, to the small band of rebels she led – tried to control her heart rate, pounding with adrenaline. It had taken her weeks to set up this ambush, once her spies had learned that the King himself would be coming this way at the very end of the summer.
It would not be easy to capture or kill the sovereign, she knew that, but an opportunity this golden had not come around in the three years that the rebel forces had conducted their guerilla war. Her commander had agonized before giving the green light, ultimately committing the entire Black Squad – just over three hundred soldiers – to Sophie’s carefully planned operation.
Sophie had always been a true believer. Even as a member of the upper class, she could not stand that Caledonia was still a kingdom. And she had chafed since she was old enough to read at her homeland’s draconian society, including the use of slave labor. Just 18 when this most recent uprising began, she barely hesitated for a moment before venturing into the woods and joining the rebellion. Her bravery, passion, and tactical brilliance earned her command of her own squad within twelve months.
Twelve months after that, she became captain of the Black Squad, the most elite unit in the rebel militia. Her exploits with the Squad – defeating the King’s men in skirmish after skirmish in the forests – had become legendary across Caledonia. Even though she was not the rebellion’s political leader, or even its most high-ranking officer, it was her face emblazoned on the PUBLIC ENEMY NO. 1 posters plastered over every storefront in the capital city. Every person in Caledonia knew her striking appearance – close-cropped dark brown hair, piercing green eyes, and angular cheekbones – whether they loved her or hated her.
Not that she was recognizable at the moment. Sophie had covered her face with green and brown paint, and in her combat fatigues she hoped to blend in to the natural terrain around her.
This small group of soldiers, just twelve in total, were scouts. Sophie’s intel had reported that an advance unit of the King’s Guard would be about one mile ahead of the main party, looking ahead for threats. She hoped to confirm the layout of the traveling parade in order to finalize the plan for the ambush, which was being prepped further down the road. Sophie knew the commander of the King’s Guard to be a thoughtful, crafty enemy, and she would not take her opponent lightly.
After a while, Sophie began to hear the tell-tale rhythmic crunch of boots on dirt up the road. She reached to her belt, foregoing her automatic pistol for a pair of low-light goggles. Soldiers began to come into view, a familiar lackadaisical formation of rows of four across. They seemed inattentive, telling bawdy jokes and not searching the forest with any seriousness.
Sophie chuckled inwardly at their poor discipline. This mission might end up easier than she thought…
When suddenly, without so much as a signal exchanged, the King’s Guard stopped on a dime and snapped into alertness, spinning to face the woods on either side of the road and raising their rifles.
And Sophie suddenly felt the cold barrel of a pistol pressed into the base of her neck.
“Hands up, rebel,” said a cold voice from behind her.
Sneaky bastard, she thought, trying to contain her rising panic. They still had the terrain edge over the Guard. She could get out of this.
“Hands! Now!”
Sophie feigned compliance, then spun lightning-quick and drew her pistol. Her attack caught the soldier behind her off guard, and her shot hit him square in the soldier.
But she’d miscalculated. There were five men behind her, not just one. Despair washed over her as two of her enemies fired their stun-guns into her chest, and Sophie Greene fell into an uneasy unconsciousness.
Sophie – Captain Greene, to the small band of rebels she led – tried to control her heart rate, pounding with adrenaline. It had taken her weeks to set up this ambush, once her spies had learned that the King himself would be coming this way at the very end of the summer.
It would not be easy to capture or kill the sovereign, she knew that, but an opportunity this golden had not come around in the three years that the rebel forces had conducted their guerilla war. Her commander had agonized before giving the green light, ultimately committing the entire Black Squad – just over three hundred soldiers – to Sophie’s carefully planned operation.
Sophie had always been a true believer. Even as a member of the upper class, she could not stand that Caledonia was still a kingdom. And she had chafed since she was old enough to read at her homeland’s draconian society, including the use of slave labor. Just 18 when this most recent uprising began, she barely hesitated for a moment before venturing into the woods and joining the rebellion. Her bravery, passion, and tactical brilliance earned her command of her own squad within twelve months.
Twelve months after that, she became captain of the Black Squad, the most elite unit in the rebel militia. Her exploits with the Squad – defeating the King’s men in skirmish after skirmish in the forests – had become legendary across Caledonia. Even though she was not the rebellion’s political leader, or even its most high-ranking officer, it was her face emblazoned on the PUBLIC ENEMY NO. 1 posters plastered over every storefront in the capital city. Every person in Caledonia knew her striking appearance – close-cropped dark brown hair, piercing green eyes, and angular cheekbones – whether they loved her or hated her.
Not that she was recognizable at the moment. Sophie had covered her face with green and brown paint, and in her combat fatigues she hoped to blend in to the natural terrain around her.
This small group of soldiers, just twelve in total, were scouts. Sophie’s intel had reported that an advance unit of the King’s Guard would be about one mile ahead of the main party, looking ahead for threats. She hoped to confirm the layout of the traveling parade in order to finalize the plan for the ambush, which was being prepped further down the road. Sophie knew the commander of the King’s Guard to be a thoughtful, crafty enemy, and she would not take her opponent lightly.
After a while, Sophie began to hear the tell-tale rhythmic crunch of boots on dirt up the road. She reached to her belt, foregoing her automatic pistol for a pair of low-light goggles. Soldiers began to come into view, a familiar lackadaisical formation of rows of four across. They seemed inattentive, telling bawdy jokes and not searching the forest with any seriousness.
Sophie chuckled inwardly at their poor discipline. This mission might end up easier than she thought…
When suddenly, without so much as a signal exchanged, the King’s Guard stopped on a dime and snapped into alertness, spinning to face the woods on either side of the road and raising their rifles.
And Sophie suddenly felt the cold barrel of a pistol pressed into the base of her neck.
“Hands up, rebel,” said a cold voice from behind her.
Sneaky bastard, she thought, trying to contain her rising panic. They still had the terrain edge over the Guard. She could get out of this.
“Hands! Now!”
Sophie feigned compliance, then spun lightning-quick and drew her pistol. Her attack caught the soldier behind her off guard, and her shot hit him square in the soldier.
But she’d miscalculated. There were five men behind her, not just one. Despair washed over her as two of her enemies fired their stun-guns into her chest, and Sophie Greene fell into an uneasy unconsciousness.
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