The past few days had been spent preparing. The plan that was established By Lev and his barrack had now spread across the mines. Supported unanimously and enthusiastically amongst the laborers, the Overseer and his retinue were none the wiser to what would occur later that night.
Following a hard day toiling in the mines, Lev returned alongside his new comrades to their barracks. Giving the guard a deadly glance, they entered, wiping the sweat and soot from their brows. It was clear that they would need a few hours to rejuvenate their strength before carrying out the revolt. Luckily, this aligned with the plan, which could not be enacted upon until nightfall. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Lev took a deep breath and tried to control his nerves.
[We don't act, we die… we lose, we die…We win, we are liberated…]
Although he was an experienced veteran, who had served in theatres such as Kiev against the Germans and numerous fronts against the Finnish year prior, it was nonetheless unnerving to be leading such a spontaneous uprising. Afterall, he had the skills required to motive soldiers and sustain their moral, but he had never attempted such a feat as championing a slave revolt.
Noticeably, Ivan and Maxim did not seem as unsettled by what was to occur later that night. Rather, they talked to one another as if completely at ease. Though, this was to be expected from ruthless bandit leaders, whose sole occupation was the immoral act of plundering, pillaging, looting, and murdering their way from village to village. Using their preparedness as inspiration, Lev was able to finally calm himself.
The hours passed as if time itself had stopped. Whilst the proclaimed leaders of the revolt – Lev, Ivan, and Maxim – were mentally prepared, the rest of the barrack remained seated in silence. However, soon enough the hour had arrived, in which regardless of their preparedness they would need to act. As such, after adjusting his greatcoat and his ushanka, Lev stood up. Glancing in his direction and following his lead, the other slaves stood up.
"Gotta deal with that guard outside first" Ivan whispered, approaching the door.
"On your command" he followed up, his hand rested upon the door prepared to push it open. Receiving a nod of approval, the door began to creak eerily open. Distracted, the guard approached.
"Hey, what a-" he began to ask, before approaching to close, being grabbed by the arm, and then getting dragged into the room. Before he could call for help, Ivan had already got the soldier in a headlock, leaving him gasping for air. Meanwhile, Maxim closed the door before approaching the choking soldier and taking the spear from his weakened grasp. With one hard thrust, he then forced the weapon into the guard's padded tunic, diverting the ribs and instead piercing directly into his heart.
"Here" he said, passing the now blood-stained spear to Lev. Focusing on the duty at hand, he took it, and opening the door called the others to his side. Afterall, if he wanted all to go as planned, he would need to lead from the front; lest everyone falter due to the cowardice of their leader.
"NOW!" Lev declared in an exacerbated tone. Charging into the outside world, the entire barrack appropriately followed in a similar manner. As had been planned, the charging prisoners approached the toolshed, wailing aloud as they did so. Hearing this, doors all over the site went flying open, with slaves spilling out into the open breeze. The guards, who had begun to descend upon Lev and his retinue, were now left isolated, and unable to form any proper formations. Everything had descended into chaos.
Yet, unbeknownst to the Royal Guards, the slaves were rather structured in their assault. Approaching the toolshed, Lev gave a mighty thrust at the guard positioned outside the door. Before being able to block, the soldier was already incapacitated by a fatal wound to the abdomen. Dropping to his knees, he sputtered blood before succumbing to his injuries.
By the time it was discovered the slaves were trying to acquire tools, it was to late. The guards had no structure, as they had been spread out in isolated pairs before the surprise attack. As such, nothing could be done regarding the prisoners running amuck. Realizing this futility, the Overseer ceased to rally his men, instead favoring to take the nearest guards and hide within the confines of his private quarters.
The only feasible resistance was put up by the archers stationed in the towers. Yet, even they were aware that situated on the ground was more revolting slaves than they had arrows. This fact alone made the cause of the archers futile, as even if they hit every shot, they would still be outnumbered and inevitably torn from their towers. Additionally, from their domineering positions high above the battlefield, they could see with pristine vision the slaughter of Royal Guards taking place below.
Regardless, it would for the immediate moment be impossible to halt the archers, who were nonetheless still firing relentlessly upon the escaped convicts. As such, Lev controlled his adrenaline and darted his eyes around the site, looking for another feasible target.
[Wait… the Overseer's hut!]
"Comrades! The hut! Take the hut!" he decreed, waving his spear high in the air. Following their leader, the now armed slaves charged like a tidal wave towards the living quarters of the Overseer.
They then descended upon the building as if ravenous eagles; using their tools to hack open the door, prodding their weapons through the open windows, etc. Eventually, the door gave way, and was kicked in by the horde. Entering the room, Lev spied the Overseer standing behind four quivering soldiers, who, knowing they were heavily outnumbered and doomed, were hesitant to make the first move. One tried to run but was swiftly hacked to the ground by Maxim. Suddenly, the other three hopelessly charged, but were also put down with relative ease.
"I-I can gi-give you anything! Please. I'll l-let you all leave!" pleaded Marat on his knees, having given up the façade of an all-powerful Overseer. The slaves stood still, awaiting their orders. Then, from the awkward silence, Lev approached.
"Tell the archers to stand down!" he demanded, grabbing the cowering slaver by his tunic. With the help of two others, they then carried him outside, before throwing him to the ground.
"Stop! Cease your fire! It's over!" he cried, getting to his feet. Although confused, the archers obeyed; perhaps believing the fight was done, and they would be spared.
"Order them to come down" Lev followed up. The Overseer relented and gave the command. In turn, although hesitant, the archers obeyed once more and slowly began descending from their towers. The pleading Captain then stood up, and turned to Lev.
Yet, when he did so, he was met by a spear straight through the breast. Realizing the ploy that had just been enacted, the archers attempted to scurry back up into their towers. Similarly realizing in the moment what their leader had just done, the slaves restarted their assault. The few archers that had reached the ground were quickly mobbed, those that remained on the ladders were grabbed by the legs and dragged, and those still in their towers were met with waves of slaves ascending to their positions. It was over. The defenders had been annihilated, not a single life spared. Conversely, the slaves had only really suffered casualties from the archers; and even then, these numbers were both minimal and to be expected. With hit sinking in that everything was over and that they had won, the now liberated prisoners rejoiced and cheered. In this post-revolt celebration, Lev was hoisted upon the shoulders of Maxim and Ivan.