The whispers began turning into serious conversations in the villages of the south.
One night, the young n of a small village gathered in a field far from prying eyes. There were about thirty of them, their eyes tired from working under the sun, but now there was sothing else in them. Sothing that hadn't been there before. Hope. Or perhaps anger.
One of Pablo's n stood before them. He wore ragged clothes like theirs, no different from them in appearance. But his voice was different. He was confident. He knew what he was saying.
"The news you've heard is not rumors. The nobles' convoys are being stolen. The king's soldiers are being killed. And there are those preparing for sothing bigger."
He looked at their faces one by one.
"Weapons will arrive soon. And when they do, we will decide who rules this country."
One of the young n asked, his voice hesitant: "And what do we do?"
The man smiled.
"You prepare. You watch. You spread the news among those you trust. And when the ti cos, you will follow our orders."
It wasn't a question. It was a command. But he said it in a calm voice, as if it were an undeniable fact.
The young n left the gathering whispering among themselves. So were afraid. So were excited. But all of them knew that sothing was changing in the south. And that soone was leading this change.
In the following days, Pablo's n began taking leadership roles. They didn't announce it openly. But they were present at every eting. Every gathering. Every discussion. They directed the conversations. Planted ideas. Selected which among the young n would be future leaders.
Words were their weapon. And the lies were real enough to be believed by those who wanted to believe.
Within days, the whispers turned into talk in the markets. In the fields. In the hos. The south was boiling.
---
In the northern palace, news reached King Bekori.
He sat on his throne, listening to the report of one of his officers. His face was cold.
"Your Majesty, there are talks in the south. Young n gathering at night. Speaking of rebellion. Of overthrowing the crown."
Bekori raised an eyebrow. He showed no concern.
"Peasants?" he asked in a mocking voice.
"Yes, Your Majesty. But so reports suggest there are instigators."
Bekori laughed a short, cold laugh.
"The south has no army. No weapons. No leaders. They are just hungry peasants. Their talk ans nothing."
He gestured to the officer.
"Send soldiers. Arrest anyone who speaks of this. Beat those who deserve beating. Cut off the heads of those who deserve it. They will stop quickly."
The officer nodded. "As you command, Your Majesty."
He left the hall. But he knew that the south was not as Bekori imagined. He knew that sothing was changing. Sothing that could not be stopped with bullets alone.
Bekori remained sitting. He didn't care. He believed the poor posed no threat. He believed his army could crush any rebellion in its cradle.
---
The next night, the second batch of n arrived.
A small boat landed on the distant shore. Twenty n disembarked. They walked in silence, avoiding the patrols.
Hours later, they reached the cave.
Pablo welcod them. He looked at their faces. He knew them all. They were from Naraka. Among the strongest n in the family.
Now, the total number of n in Sorbet was eighty.
He gathered them in the main hall of the cave. He stood before them.
"The south is beginning to move. But we need more. More anger. More chaos."
He looked at the new n.
"You will also go to the south. You will spread out in the villages. You will make things more... intense."
He didn't explain further. He didn't need to. The n understood.
They left one by one, heading to the villages of the south. They knew what they had to do.
---
The next day, one of the young n was talking with his friends in the market of a small village. He was excited. He was repeating what he had heard from Pablo's n.
"Weapons will arrive soon. The south will rise. The king will not remain on his throne for long."
He did not hear the soldiers' footsteps behind him.
They grabbed him by the arm. Dragged him on the ground. They didn't care about his screams. They didn't care about his pleas.
The next day, he was hanging by his neck in the village square. A corpse dangling in the air. His eyes open. His mouth open. A lesson for others.
But it wasn't a lesson. It was a spark.
Pablo's n were there. They watched. They waited.
Then they began to speak.
"You saw? This is what the king does to those who speak. He kills them like flies. No trial. No justice. Only fear."
"Do you want to be next? Do you want to die in silence?"
"The only way to be safe is to be strong. And the only way to be strong is to stand together."
Anger began to ignite in the hearts of the young n. Not cold anger. Hot anger. Anger that wanted to burn everything.
Pablo's n fed this anger. Directed it. Controlled it.
The south was boiling.
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