The White Renegade (Viral Airwaves) Read Online Free Page B

his gaze went to the single tiny window. A hole had been dug around it to allow some of the sunlight to filter in during the day. Right now it was the dull white of snow at night, in part obscured by the cold winds whipping up a storm outside. Everyone settled around the large table, Damian Holt at one end, Seraphin to his right. Everyone seemed so grave, Seraphin couldn’t help but wring his hands under the table. His father cleared his throat.
    “We have gathered here to discuss the advance of the Union army,” Damian said, “and what we can do to help our conquered brothers.”
    No surprise there: war was the only topic since the Union’s first offensive. Their army had conquered the southern half of Regaria right away, cutting a path through it to get Altaer under their control. The city held hundreds of universities and professional schools, and it was a thriving center of technological advances. Radio news claimed they had surrendered a month ago. With the south and its capital taken, it seemed only a matter of time before the rest of the country followed. Yet the moment the army moved farther north, it had been met with a surge of resistance. The thick pine forests of the North served as ambush spots, and before long the soldiers’ advance had slowed to a crawl.
    They should’ve known the North would be harder. When the Union had asked Regaria to join their alliance of countries, a good part of the South had wanted in. Alex said his town didn’t look at all like conquered territory. The soldiers had stopped by one day, helped repair their rundown mill and painted some of the fences in exchange for food and hospitality, and when all that was done, they’d been on their way. There were rumors of less peaceful events—lots of arrests and the very rare shootout—but until Altaer’s conquest, Regaria had seemed ready to just give in. Too many families were still recovering from the Threstle Plague to fight back. The northern half of the country, however, had always been adamant about their refusal. And as the Union was now learning, this included taking arms and dying. Seraphin hadn’t quite understood why, but as the men and women gathered at the table spoke, it became clear.
    Tradition.
    Tradition was causing them to brace against the Union. They saw it as a threat to their ways, as a dishonor to their ancestors. Seraphin’s hands went to the skeptar at his wrist as he listened to them go on. Defend your country. Defend your traditions, your culture, your uniqueness. The Union would crush it all, they promised, envelop everyone in a blanket of blandness. His grip became tighter with every word. The red string seemed to burn him.
    By the time the seventh speaker finished, Seraphin’s jaw hurt from clenching so much.
    They were all so afraid of what was different. All they wanted was to keep to themselves. A blanket of blandness? Did they not see how they acted when someone new came along, when one of their own didn’t match their vision of the ideal Regarian? It hurt to hear them speak of Regaria in such glowing terms when they didn’t have the decency to respect him half the time. These strangers—this Union—had a lot to teach them about diversity.
    “All of this is bullshit.”
    He’d spoken without waiting his turn, interrupting Old Walt. The silence that followed could’ve choked a bull. It pressed heavily on Seraphin’s shoulders, but he stood anyway, not daring to look at his father. They all stared at him, expressions going from anger to astonishment to mockery.
    “Why would you think the Union would try to erase our traditions? Where is your proof? President Kurtmann already proved he cared for Regarians. Have you forgotten who gave us the antidote to the Threstle Plague when half this village was dying from it four years ago? The cure was discovered in Ferrys, by them, and they could’ve kept it to themselves or forced us to pay for it. They didn’t. They saved thousands of Regarian