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SCL Chapter 78: Fathers, Sons, and Revolutions
🕑 Added 2025-05-21 05:25:52 +0000 UTCAngus Mengsk, a highly respected and charismatic senator of the Korhal Parliament, always seemed to act contrary to his social class. He publicly denounced the corruption of the Confederate government in his speeches and rallies, becoming a driving force behind the fervent Korhal independence movement. In other words, Angus was a committed revolutionary—and to the media, a firebrand who urged the people to rise against the Confederacy.
In the holographic news segments of the UNN—long since bought and corrupted by money and power—anchors dismissed his numerous public speeches on Korhal as inflammatory misinformation. Some of the more radical columnists outright branded him a traitor and a ringleader of insurrection.
What caught Augustus off guard was the number of family photos on display in the office. Among them, he even spotted a recruitment poster of himself in military uniform—a cover from a past issue of Galactic Vogue, if he remembered correctly.
As one of the 'war heroes' jointly promoted by the Tarsonis Confederate government, the military, and the UNN Universal News Network, Augustus had been selected partly due to his noble education, his status as a model Old Family heir—and, of course, his good looks.
He always found Editor-in-Chief Handy Anderson’s flattery particularly embarrassing, since most of the reported feats were fabricated or, upon close scrutiny, completely implausible.
But behind all that stood the UNN board and the powerful Old Families of the Confederate Congress. They were the true architects, packaging battlefield soldiers into invincible 'Gods of War' to bolster public confidence in the conflict—so people would spend their money freely, boosting a stagnant economy and a near-collapsing stock market.
Augustus had never set foot in this office before. He hadn’t expected that the father who always seemed to be at odds with him had, in truth, been watching over him all this time.
That thought suddenly brought to mind the letters from his sister Dorothy—words she often wrote:
“Brother, every day we watch the news, looking for your name. But we’re just as afraid it might appear in the list of the dead.”
“They say you’ve killed many Kel-Morian troops, down to the last number and every battle.”
“But we don’t cheer for your victories. We only worry that the next battle might be your last.”
Those letters… were the threads that bound them with love—and strength.
“You’re back, Augustus. My son.”
Angus didn’t turn around to embrace Augustus. The distance between father and son still lingered.
“Yes. I’m back, Father.”
Augustus had never feared his father. In the past, their frequent arguments had stemmed from fundamentally different beliefs.
“Katherine just told me.”
When Angus finally turned around, Augustus was startled to see how much older his father looked. Yet the eyes—so much like his own—still burned with a sharp, unwavering light.
“I support your decision to send them to Umoja. The Confederacy’s agents are watching us from the shadows, and they won’t pass up a single opportunity to threaten me.”
“For now, Umoja is indeed the safest place,” Augustus nodded. “The Terran Confederacy’s Ghost operatives could arrive at any moment. Our current security protocols must be elevated by another tier.”
“You think it’s not enough already?” Angus frowned.
“I never intended to turn our family residence into a heavily fortified bunker, nor to hire ten times as many guards as before just to maintain it. Publicly, that kind of extravagance reflects poorly on me. The people tend to believe that only the ultra-rich would spend that kind of money to arm themselves and protect their property.”
“I’m supposed to be a fighter for freedom, a leader who guides the people toward the light—not some Cromwell surrounded by troops. That way, the Confederacy-controlled media will brand me a usurper and a tyrant.”
“No matter how they smear us, I believe Korhal needs a military force capable of standing up to the Confederacy,” Augustus told his father firmly.
“I don’t care about reputation. But if they’re going to label me, they’d better call me Korhal’s Washington—or the Napoleon of the Terran Empire.”
“You and I have never seen eye to eye, Father,” Augustus said.
To his surprise, Angus didn’t grow angry at the words. Instead, he looked genuinely pleased.
“I’m glad. I’m glad that, in the end, you’ve chosen to stand by my side.”
“I never tell others how utterly exhausted I’ve become. I’m surrounded by enemies and opportunists. The Mengsk family’s allies are like blades of grass in the wind, swaying with the political current. Augustus, I’m truly glad you’ve come back to me.”
“Is this a dream? Augustus, ever since you were grown, you stopped calling me ‘Father'.”
“Angus, this is more real than any wall or city you’ve ever laid eyes on,” Augustus replied.
“Hah. Come—sit down, have a drink. Let’s talk.”
Angus smiled and walked over to the office wine cabinet, pulling out a bottle of red wine worth a small fortune.
Since Augustus’s coming-of-age ceremony, Angus hadn’t had a proper conversation with him. In fact, the last time he’d spoken with his eldest son, Arcturus, their discussion had ended in a bitter argument.
Arcturus had never been able to accept his father’s revolution. That was Angus’s greatest regret in life. He had once believed that his second son would walk the same path as his brother—turning away from their stubborn, domineering father. But Augustus had not only returned—he had chosen to stand with the Korhal independence movement. For an aging Angus Mengsk, this brought immeasurable joy.
Angus was the quintessential patriarch of an authoritarian household. He believed that his decades of experience could help his sons avoid missteps and regret. In the future he envisioned, Arcturus would inherit his seat in the Senate, while Augustus would oversee the family's vast business empire.
But Augustus refused. He was tired—no, resentful—of living a life dictated by someone else, even if that person was his own father.
“So then… how do you think we’ll secure final victory in this revolution?”
Angus poured wine into their glasses as he, Augustus, and Achton sat down at a set of wicker chairs in the office.
“Only war,” Augustus answered. “Angus, I believe you’ve already prepared for a full-scale conflict. Throughout Earth’s history, peace won through slogans, begging, or kneeling has never lasted.”
“What we need is an army, a fleet, and a commander who can win.”
“Of course, we do have a revolutionary army,” Achton interjected. “We’ve already recruited 120,000 troops and sent a portion of them to the military academy on Umoja. They’ll graduate next year, and then we’ll have a cohort of reliable officers and generals.”
“It’s not enough. Nowhere near enough.”
Augustus’s cold, gray eyes stared unblinkingly at Achton.
“We’ll need at least one million more soldiers just to seize this planet—and several times that number to hold it.”
Mass Mobilization.
“That’s what we want as well,” Achton replied, “but 120,000 is already our limit. Every one of them volunteered to fight for the revolution. They’ve been connected through underground networks and are receiving covert training.”
“Then abolish the current government and senate. Form a new parliament. Enact new laws. Reform the conscription system.”
Augustus raised his voice.
“Once we take control of Styrling, we’ll start drafting from the city. Once we seize the industrial cities in the south, we’ll put helmets on every eligible young man and rifles in their hands.”
“I served in the Confederate Marine Corps. I’ve killed many Kel-Morians with my own hands in a brutal war. I understand the true terror of the Confederate military better than you do.”
“When the uprisings and terrorist attacks on Korhal intensify, the Confederate Marines will intervene—no doubt about it. That’s why we desperately need a powerful revolutionary army. Politically, we should also seek the support of other planets, even a few of the Old Families on Tarsonis, to gain aid and divert the Confederacy’s attention.”
“I don’t know if you don’t understand, or if you simply refuse to admit it—but in a war launched by nobles and rulers, this generation is bound to be strapped to the rumbling wheels of war… until death.”
A long silence followed.
“If we must fight a war, then Korhal shall prevail,” Angus said. “But in the end, I still hope for a peaceful transition—a ceremonial return of power from the central authorities to the people.”
“I know what you want to say,” Augustus replied. “Expecting a dragon to willingly surrender its treasure and gold… is nothing but a waking dream.”
Hearing this from Angus didn’t surprise Augustus.
Angus was more of a true revolutionary than an opportunist seeking power through rebellion.
He genuinely wanted to build a clean and just new government, to rebuild Korhal IV as a land of freedom and peace—
—just as it had once been.
Angus was a great and selfless revolutionary, even willing to sacrifice his own life to awaken the hearts of all Terrans.
“We all know that war is inevitable,” Achton added then. “I’ve spoken with your father many times. Neither of us holds out any hope for peaceful evolution anymore. Where there’s rebellion, suppression will follow. In the war that lies ahead, countless lives will be lost.”
“Even so, we must fight to the end!” Angus declared resolutely.
“In the past, I always held on to some hope for the Confederate government. But now I see it clearly—there’s no cure left.”
“The Terran Confederacy is a giant covered in festering boils. Only sharp blades can cut them open—only then can the wounds begin to heal.”
“Compared to the Kel-Morian Combine and Umoja, the Terran Confederacy’s territories and planetary holdings have grown far too vast,” he said.
“Their bloated and corrupt government can only resort to brute force to oppress the people of their colonies—and all those oppressed have long harbored deep resentment.”
“Now, the moment a single planet raises the banner of rebellion, all the onlookers will rise as one. Korhal won’t be the only planet to resist Confederate rule—nor will it be the last.”
“Father, how long do you think this war will last?” Augustus asked in a low voice.
“Ten years, maybe longer,” Angus replied. “When I’m gone, the cause will fall to you—and after you, to your son, and to Valerian.”
“Augustus, as much as I hate to admit it, most of the Korhal Revolutionary Army consists of untrained youths. The only qualified officers we can recruit are retired Confederate veterans—and even then, I can’t guarantee their loyalty. We’re short on generals, too. Korhalans aren’t exactly known for being a warrior people.”
“This revolutionary army has ideals and conviction, yes—but in essence, they’re still just a hastily assembled crowd: sons of farmers, workers, and corporate clerks. They’re willing to die for Korhal’s independence, but they’ve yet to become disciplined soldiers who follow orders without question.”
“Augustus, you’re a hero—and you’re the one I trust most. You’ll lead the Korhal Revolutionary Army, because you’re the only one I can think of who’s truly fit for it.”
“Maybe… it’s you who must lead this unruly mob.”
