The First Whisper

BEGINNING OF RIOT ptd 2

My lord,” Jason said in a faint voice.

Emmanuel leaned closer. “You’re awake. What happened to you?”

Jason swallowed hard, his voice breaking. “After I closed the vault that day and was heading back, I was ambushed. They took me to the heresy house… someone forced me to sign something a ledger entry and kept me there.”

Emmanuel frowned. “Who was it?”

“Mr. Rallen,” Jason whispered.

Emmanuel’s eyes widened. “What? He was the one who stole the money?”

Jason shook his head weakly. “No… not the money. He forced my signature on a document only the guards are allowed to access.”

“And what document is that exactly?” Emmanuel demanded.

“The council pass,” Jason rasped. “They gave it to me.”

Emmanuel shot to his feet. “What did he want to do with it?”

Jason flinched, pain etching his face. “Maybe he planned to send someone to the state… I don’t know.”

“You have to rest,” Emmanuel said, rising.

“Wait” Jason panted, sitting up with effort. “My lord…” He gripped Emmanuel’s sleeve and leaned in. Emmanuel crouched beside him.

Jason hissed through his teeth, “I’m sure he set people to spy on me. Before you could even reach the court, he might have slipped away and I’d lose my life.” He swallowed. “I had someone bring the pass to keep it safe. I want you to keep it.”

Emmanuel’s hands hovered. “What am I supposed to do with it?” he asked.

“Keep it hidden,” Jason whispered. “Please. I trust you, my lord.”

Emmanuel nodded. “I will. But what about you? You’re not safe yet.”

Jason offered a small, painful smile. “Don’t worry about me. That pass means everything. Keep it safe.”

“Don’t die on me,” Emmanuel said sharply. Then he rose and left the inn.

When he reached his house that night, a plain wooden box waited at his door. He carried it inside, opened it, and pulled out the council pass a thin folded document stamped with the seal. His chest tightened.

Without hesitation, he went to the backyard. Beneath the pale moonlight, Emmanuel dug a deep hole until his palms ached. He buried the pass and tamped the earth down, then planted a small pepper seedling above the spot, pressing the soil around it as if wrapping the secret in new life.

When he finally straightened, the yard looked ordinary no sign of what lay beneath. Emmanuel wiped his hands, feeling a weight lift and a new worry settle in its place. He had the pass. For now, that had to be enough.

The lunch bell rang, and chairs scraped across the floor as everyone hurried out. Adele stayed a little longer, slipping her notebook into her bag before walking to the courtyard. She sat beneath the old tree where she usually ate alone.

The breeze was soft that day, carrying faint laughter from the cafeteria. She tore a piece of bread and ate quietly.

“Adele.”

She looked up sharply. Emmanuel stood a few steps away, his tone serious. He was in uniform like her, sleeves rolled neatly, a file in his hand.

“Oh sorry,” she said, moving to stand. “I didn’t know this was your spot.”

He shook his head. “It’s not. I just… wanted to talk.”

She hesitated but stayed still.

“I was wrong,” he said, voice steady but low. “I accused you without proof. I shouldn’t have.”

Adele blinked. For a second, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “You… what?”

“I’m saying I was wrong,” Emmanuel repeated. “I shouldn’t have said those things.”

Silence hung between them. She studied him not angrily, but carefully as if trying to find the trick in his words.

Finally, she said, “Alright.”

He nodded, looking faintly relieved. “That’s all.”

Adele gave a short nod back and picked up her lunch again. As she walked away, she didn’t look behind her. But her mind wouldn’t quiet not because of his words, but because apologies were rare in that place. And even rarer when they were meant.Emmanuel looked at her as she walked away through the courtyard, her figure disappearing into the crowd of students. He sighed quietly and turned toward his office.

Inside, his informant was already waiting.

“Have you seen the other guard?” Emmanuel asked, dropping his books on the table.

“No, my lord,” the informant said, bowing slightly. “But I got new information.”

Emmanuel frowned. “And what’s that?”

“Lord Rallen is dead.”

Emmanuel froze. “What?”

“They said it was food poisoning. He died yesterday,” the informant explained carefully. “And this morning, when I went to check on Jason at the inn, he wasn’t there. The innkeeper said a group of men came last night claiming to be his brothers. They took him.”

Emmanuel blinked, trying to process everything. “So Rallen is dead… and now Jason is abducted?”

“Yes, my lord.”

He sank into the cushioned chair with a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “What the hell is happening?” he muttered.

The informant stood silently, waiting.

“You can go,” Emmanuel said after a moment.

The man bowed and quietly left the room, leaving Emmanuel alone with his thoughts and the uneasy silence that filled the air.

He leaned back, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Who could have wanted the council pass so badly? he thought. Jason said Rallen forged his signature but Rallen’s dead now. So who else knew about it?

He stood up and began pacing. Someone wanted that pass for a reason. To send someone to the States? To cover a trail? Or to silence whoever still knew the truth?

His jaw tightened. And if Jason’s been taken, it’s because he knows something he shouldn’t.

The room felt smaller, heavier. Emmanuel pressed his palms on the table, whispering to himself, “Whoever’s behind this isn’t done yet.”

Emmanuel sat there for a long time, the room completely silent. The ticking clock was the only sound. Jason’s warning, Rallen’s sudden death, the missing pass they spun in his head and made no sense.

He stood, grabbed his cloak, and left without another word. If they’ve taken Jason, they’ll come for the pass next, he thought.

That night, Emmanuel went to the backyard and dug out the small box he had buried under the pepper plants. He brushed off the dirt and opened it the pass was still there, untouched.

He looked around, then went back inside. In his room, he moved to the corner of his desk where a small secret lock was hidden. He opened it and placed the pass carefully inside, locking it again.

“There,” he muttered quietly. “No one will find it now.”

He leaned on the desk for a moment, thinking about what Rallen could have planned and why Jason was taken. Nothing made sense, but one thing was clear someone wanted that pass badly.

Adele's pov

The next morning, Adele tied her hair in a loose bun and hurriedly buttoned her faded shirt. Her morning had been nothing short of chaos she overslept, nearly missed her first class, and forgot her purse twice.

After lectures, she decided to stop by the market to buy a few things before heading home. The market was alive as usual voices shouting prices, children darting between stalls, and the smell of roasted corn and dried fish hanging in the air.

She handed a few coins to a vendor selling vegetables and waited for her change. That was when she noticed them a small group of women gathered near the corner of the square, speaking in low but fiery tones.

Curiosity tugged at her. She moved closer, pretending to check a basket of fruits nearby.

“…I’m telling you, we can’t keep living like this,” one woman said sharply. “The council takes everything our money, our sons for guard service, our food. And now they want our silence too?”

Another woman folded her arms. “You heard what happened at the judgement, didn’t you? That poor woman was supposed to die, but instead, they hanged her husband. Said he was the real thief.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the group.

Adele frowned slightly. Judgement? She hadn’t heard about any execution.

“They say Lord Morin changed the sentence last minute,” a younger girl whispered, glancing around nervously. “That’s why the crowd almost turned on him. My brother was there he said the women shouted so loudly the guards almost lost control.”

“Of course they did,” an older woman spat. “They only switched the sentence because someone exposed them. Otherwise, that innocent woman would’ve died for her husband’s crime.”

Adele’s heartbeat quickened. She’d never heard women speak like that before not so boldly, not in public.

One of them crossed her arms tightly. “If we join together, we can silence the law itself if we must. We are not powerless.”

Adele’s breath caught. Silence the law? The words struck deep. Because when Mara her best friend was killed unjustly by the council’s orders, no one had spoken up. Not even the women.

“Shhhh,” another woman hissed. “Do you want the guards to hear you? They’ve been patrolling, more lately.”

But the first woman shook her head, eyes blazing. “Let them hear. We’ve been quiet for too long. They think we’re weak because we’re women. But if we join the market, the village, the workers they’ll have to listen.”

Adele looked down at the small bag of vegetables in her hand, suddenly feeling its weight heavier than it should be.

For a moment, she imagined what would happen if the council truly fell if people rose up. Would it bring freedom… or just more chaos?

Adele tightened her grip on the bag and turned away from the group. Their voices still echoed behind her as she left the market talk of justice, anger, and rebellion blending with the noise of the crowd.

The sky had started to dim, clouds gathering in uneven shades of gray. She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders as a cool breeze swept dust along the road.

By the time she reached the street leading home, the atmosphere had shifted. The laughter of children and the hum of evening chatter were gone. Instead, guards marched through the alleys in pairs, their boots striking sharply against the cobblestones.

One of them barked an order, and two others stopped a man carrying a sack. Adele slowed her steps. The emblem on their uniforms caught her eye the Council’s patrol.

“New curfew hours,” one of them shouted when he noticed her looking. “Everyone home before the bell.”

She nodded quickly, lowering her gaze, and hurried toward her small gate. Her fingers shook slightly as she fit the key into the lock. Inside, the little house was silent too silent.

She set the vegetables down on the table and leaned against the wall, listening to the fading sound of the guards outside.

Something in the air felt different. The people were restless whispering, watching, waiting. The Council could sense it too; that was why the patrols had increased.

She drew in a slow breath, her mind replaying the woman’s fierce words from the market: “We can silence the law if we must.”