THE GRANDARION CHRONICLES - CHAPTER 1

REVOLUTION
2020

The small hand on the clock strode over to eleven as the long hand made its way past twelve. Nothing peculiar or interesting about this for the untrained eye. But to a small group of people, that night was fairly important. It was the 16th of July 2020 in Pretoria, South Africa. The chill of the winter air iced up the lungs of the two unexceptional people making their way across the street to the other sidewalk. Everyone else was huddled up under tons of blankets and heaters blasting on full power, while it was snowing outside, global warming was up to no good as usual.

The two-aforementioned people, one male, the other female, walked over the concrete blocks that made up the sidewalk under the streetlights that for some reason flickered as they walked past them. Mist formed in front of the man’s mouth as he exhaled loudly. “Sh,” the woman hissed at him angrily. “What? I’m a bit stressed out and need to get rid of some anxiety,” the man replied with some level of irritation and equal amounts of amusement in his voice. “We’re already late as it is you idiot, just hurry up!” The woman spat at him.
“There’s no need to yell, you’re the one that shushed me in the first place, Margaret.”
The woman looked at the bloke with intense rage. “I told you to not call me that! I’m Margo you idiot!”
The man shrugged it off and took out of his pocket a box of cigarettes and a longish stick, he put one cigarette in his mouth and offered one to Margo, who looked even more furious than before, if that’s even possible.

“Really? Now? You’re going to smoke now, Jakes?” Margo asked with venom in her voice.
“Yeah, why not? As I’ve already explained, I have some anxiety to get rid of.” Jakes stated this as matter of factly as possible.

Jakes took the stick in his hand, gripped it tightly at one end that looked like a handle of some sorts and muttered a word at it, a small flame appeared at the opposite tip of the stick and he held it to his cigarette to light his smoke. Margo sighed deeply and just rolled her eyes at Jakes.

The two came to an old, run down shebeen and rapped on the door three times before someone opened it up for them. “You’re late,” said the someone at the door. “We ran into some anxiety attacks and wanted to blow them up in a puff of smoke,” Jakes smiled slyly. The someone didn’t look impressed and simply nodded as he stood aside to let them in. They went to the back of the shebeen and through a door into a small room that reeked of old alcohol and burnt tobacco. The paint had been peeling off the walls for some time now and mold had started to set in.

“Finally, the two musketeers,” a large man, with his feet up on a table, said in a sarcastic voice. "Yeah, nice place you got here,” Jakes stated as he sniffed at the mold on the wall, “I bet you got a bargain for it on the internet.” The man at the table just raised his hand at him to shut up. He then proceeded to struggle to lift himself up from the chair. Finally, after ten different grunts and a waiting period of about thirty seconds, the large man got up and out of the chair. “I take it you are all ready for tonight?” He asked the small crowd of ten or so people in the room. Jakes and Margo nodded along with the rest. They were ready alright, ready to start a revolution.