July 4th, 7 AM.
The sunlight streaked across the sky, tearing through the darkness, and bathed the earth in daylight, illuminating first and foremost the red flag at the city's highest point; the dark clouds had dispersed.
"Raul... we did it."
Ganchalov, gazing at the rising sun, stood amidst the ruins and muttered softly.
After a night of chaos, the team initiating the coup had successfully seized the city hall, sparing not even the noble estates in the outskirts. Countless people had fallen, and just as many had risen.
"Priest!" Huaisen, carrying a flintlock rifle, leaped over the rubble caused by explosives, and ran up to Ganchalov: "All the officials have been captured! What do we do now? Hang them from the lampposts?"
Listening to Huaisen's eager tone, Ganchalov pondered for a long while and shook his head, "No, load them all onto a train and send them to Moscow."
"To Moscow?" Huaisen exclaimed in surprise: "Aren't we going to try them?"
