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SCL Chapter 109: In the Name of Revolution
🕑 Added 2025-06-07 20:22:13 +0000 UTCThe Wolfhunters of Styrling were a storied militia with a long tradition. Originally formed in colonial times to protect settlers, they had evolved over the years. In this era, hunting had become a status symbol and a leisurely pastime for the nobility, yet the descendants of those forest-dwelling Wolfhunters still clung to their ancestral ways. For generations, they had served as guardians of the vast hunting grounds of House Mengsk.
After Angus Mengsk declared Korhal’s independence, around two thousand Wolfhunters pledged their loyalty to him, his sword, and his son Augustus, who had inherited the bloodline of House Mengsk.
The emblem of the Styrling Wolfhunters was a notched hunting axe.
“Hold on, Augustus. This guy—Mr. Findlay—plans to hire thugs from the Styrling slums at dirt-cheap rates, then inflate the numbers to pocket the difference,” Kerrigan said as she walked up beside Augustus.
“Don’t rat me out, you damn witch!” Tychus’s face flushed with rage. He looked like a lion about to pounce, glaring at Kerrigan—but he didn’t actually make a move. Even Tychus wasn’t sure if he could take on a Ghost operative like her.
Kerrigan snorted and ducked behind Augustus, ignoring him entirely.
“That’s enough, Tychus. I’ll have someone go over the accounts properly.” In the past, Augustus wouldn’t have cared about such a small sum, but times had changed. “You know my stance on corruption. Scum like that deserve every form of punishment imaginable. If Korhal still had its soldier re-socialization factories, I’d have turned them into suicide troopers by now.”
“Damn, you’re ruthless,” Tychus said with a shrug.
“Keep your hands out of places they don’t belong,” Augustus warned. “There’ll be plenty of opportunities to seize military supplies from the Federation, but pillaging and murdering for profit—that’s where we draw the line.”
“I get it.” Tychus nodded. “What’s the saying again? The Revolutionary Party is the friend of the people, and the Revolutionary Army is the people's sword and shield.”
“You sure know your slogans by heart,” Augustus chuckled. He glanced at the mechanical watch on his wrist, then turned to Rory Swann. “Fire up this ship. We’ve got a war to fight.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Swann muttered, walking over to the console. “But I’m sticking with this ship—someone’s gotta be here to patch it up when you break it.”
“After all, fighting a revolution isn’t like playing with kittens. Bad guys never take a day off.”
“All units, listen up: seal the hatches, engage Engine One, clear the flight deck and return to your assigned stations. Gentlemen—fire up the boilers.” Swann barked.
A holographic display unfolded before Augustus’s eyes. On it was a star system with three terrestrial planets and a blazing main-sequence star. One of those terrestrial planets, Victor V, was his destination.
Time was running out for Augustus. Once negotiations between the Kel-Morian Combine and the Terran Federation concluded, Korhal IV would be left with only one option—total war.
The lead Titan-class frigate pulled away from a Revolutionary Army starport on the Korhal satellite Canis, accelerating into the void. At the same time, more ships began lifting off. A small fleet was forming rapidly.
The First Fleet of the Korhal Revolutionary Army!
...
While en route to their destination Victor V, Augustus and the crew aboard the Titan-class Frigate One remained in warp travel. During this phase, most personnel aboard found themselves with little to do.
With no real tasks to occupy them, they passed the time mostly by sleeping, working out in the cafeteria or corridors, or browsing through e-books and videos stored on their personal terminals from a week before the ship's launch.
Due to the lack of supply ships and orbital relay stations, the warship had to carry sufficient refined high-energy gas fuel and ammunition onboard. The consequence of this limited space was that most of the over 500 crew members had to sleep in single-occupancy alloy compartments, which they grimly nicknamed 'coffin rooms'. These spaces were so cramped that one could only just sit upright while lying inside.
A week-old UNN news broadcast was playing on the holographic display in the captain’s quarters—something Augustus had already rewatched multiple times. Raynor and Tychus sat at a foldable metal table with one of Swann’s techs, playing cards. The atmosphere inside the cramped captain's quarters wasn’t exactly pleasant.
“This is UNN frontline reporter Max Speer, reporting from Colonel Edmund Duke’s flagship, the Norad II. Today, the invincible Alpha Squadron has retaken Char from the hands of the Kel-Morian scum! Experts are now assessing the viability of recolonizing this lava world.”
The scene then cut to a familiar face: the ever-arrogant Colonel Duke, boasting into the camera in his usual brash and condescending tone.
“We all know the Kel-Morian mutts are nothing but spineless weaklings. They’ve simply never experienced the full force of a Tarsonian fist! You see that? The Kel-Morians are already on their knees, begging for mercy!”
“Peace talks? There’s nothing to negotiate with the Kel-Morian Combine. The fleet’s moving on Moria next. Alpha Squadron always hits fast and hard!”
“Ugh, what’s this ape ranting about again?” Raynor laid down his cards. “There haven’t been any Kel-Morians on Char for ages. Planting the Federation flag on a volcano counts as ‘retaking territory’ now? Classic Edmund.”
“The man’s so good, he even managed to beat thin air,” he added dryly.
“Nothing new, Jim.” Augustus swiped across the screen, skipping the next twenty minutes of Duke’s bluster.
The feed stopped on a young male reporter, his eyes deep-set and hair messily tousled. Clearly inexperienced, his sudden rise to prominence on a golden-era news network could only be explained by the fact that he was broadcasting live from the chaotic, revolution-swept streets of Styrling on Korhal.
“This is Michael Liberty—thank you, Anderson. Yes, as the caption says, my name means ‘Liberty’. This name represents my connection to the revolutionary cause of the people of Korhal. I’m currently standing here among tens of thousands of Korhalians—okay, cut the crap! We’re live!”
The young journalist stood among flag-waving revolutionaries, not only unassaulted or driven away but actually welcomed by the crowd.
That was probably the only reason his segment had been allowed to air. The network had clearly applied filters and lighting tricks to make the streets of Styrling look like a slum. Broken glass, beer bottles, and trampled flags littered the area. The citizens waving those banners were portrayed as hyperactive lunatics.
“Yes, you’re watching Midday News—Federation Highlights. As you can see, Korhal IV is an absolute mess,” the anchor said with a feigned tone of sorrowful compassion. “Look at those smashed storefronts, those wrecked vehicles—it’s just heartbreaking.”
“The largest riot in Federation history has left an indelible mark on Korhal: factories shut down, urban transit paralyzed, power and water cut off. Rioters stormed civilian homes, looting valuables and violating law-abiding citizens’ wives and daughters.”
“Angus and his traitorous henchmen have ransacked the city. Criminals now revel in lawless Styrling. It’s a disaster—an unprecedented tragedy in this so-called new era, a horrifying scar on human civilization!”
“In fact, Angus Mengsk’s approval rating on Korhal IV has remained above 90% for six consecutive years,” the young reporter—looking no older than twenty—patiently waited for the studio host to finish speaking before making his point.
“Since the new government took office, both unemployment and crime rates have dropped to their lowest since 2480. Factories are running at full capacity. The weekly output of our fusion power plants is enough to power a core world like Mar Sara for an entire year. The great city of Styrling is bursting with life and energy, and the Revolutionary Army—”
“There is no new government! There is no revolutionary army!” the anchor cut in forcefully. “Absolute nonsense!”
“Every time I hear that, I laugh so hard it hurts,” Raynor chuckled.
“They don’t want the truth, Jim,” Augustus said calmly, already having memorized the reporter’s face. “Shot to fame overnight, that kid—Michael.”
“I like him. The guy’s got guts, speaks the truth... which means we probably won’t see him again for years,” Raynor said. “Maybe they’ll reassign him to write editorials in the backroom. Maybe he’ll just vanish. Who knows?”
“I’ll have the underground Pan-Terran resistance cell in Tarsonis make contact with him. A new regime needs people like that.”
“Welcome to Jones’ Evening Program: Into the Marine Corps! I’m your host, Philip, and this is Daily Koprulu on the News Network.”
“Breaking news! After three months—one hundred standard Tarsonian days—there’s been a new breakthrough at the negotiating table! The Kel-Morian Combine has agreed to cede four mining worlds, including Simond. The new trade agreement mandates that Moria grant Federation companies equal rights and cease the imposition of ‘unjustified’ extra tariffs.”
“Stay tuned to UNN Global News for the most up-to-date, comprehensive, and authoritative exclusive coverage on the Federation-Combine negotiations!”
“Sounds like the Kel-Morians are about to cave,” Tychus said with a grin as he laid down his hand and pulled the entire pot of chips toward himself.
“After Korhal IV declared independence, the Elders in the Federation Parliament and the Old Families clearly wanted to wrap up the dispute with the Kel-Morians quickly,” Augustus said.
“During the negotiations, everyone silently took the chance to plunder Kel-Morian mining firms and swallow up their mineral fields.”
“As long as they’re eager to strike a deal, it’s the Federation Parliament that dictates the pace of talks. And the Kel-Morian diplomats? They have no right to say ‘no’ when the victors come to divide the spoils.”
“Augustus, worst-case scenario—how much time do we have left to prepare?” Raynor asked, shaking his head with a sigh.
“I’ve been thinking about that for days now,” Augustus replied, expression unreadable.
“Two weeks. That’s the minimum time it would take for a fleet from the fringe sectors to warp to Korhal. And after that... the entire Terran Federation’s armada will come flooding in.”
