The days had dragged long, and feet had ached, but after nearly a two weeks of travel, Symon Revenjo crossed the Ottoman Border on horseback into Galicia, his homeland. His leg, though not healed completely, had been patched up enough for him to get shipped out of the Albanian Hospital, and make way for wounded soldiers who had been transported south for better care. For nearly three months, he had silently stared into the newspapers, watching two sides, brother and brother, slaughter each other on the empty fields of battles. Symon had never been one for Radical Royalists, or Radicals either, but he had thought himself lucky to have been wounded when he was, as he saw it as salvation from choosing sides.
Brigadier General, they had called him, in command of 3,500 within the Army of the North, where he had previously served under Kremvera. Indeed, military trials were being called out left and right, and the situation was becoming uneasy. Symon's best friend, Adrean Veraov, a Hungarian officer in the Centre, had been a devout Royalist, but who had sided with the Republicans for the desire of constitutionalism and Republicanism. With the abolition of monarchies soon at hand by the Liberals, and the Hungarians preparing for a massive partition, much of the armies had begun to deface Councillor Popa, who had insulted thousands of Hungarians in the army, so much so that they had already began sending in petitions for his removal.
Symon, though no man of politics, had heard of the original partition plan of Hungary by a local doctor in Albania, and had wondered how the Federal Government had even considered allowing a government official to slander a ethnic group that constituted a major proportion of the Danubian Military.
Signs had rose up saying, Partition Popa! and Poison his Drink!.
By the time Symon arrived at his camp, and had been reassigned his command by the wary Generals who were unsure if they were to keep their own heads, the situation had already decayed. Hungarian Officers were playing, "pin the Popa" throughout the night, while Symon watched carefully, observing the anger. The Following morning, Symon was assigned his new Brigade, marching out on patrol, but even as he ordered for silence, there were those whispering political slanders and cursing behind their breath. Symon observed, and pulled out the trouble makers, delivering fifteen slashes and making it clear that disobedience was not acceptable. Many of the men in his brigade had served with him in the war, and they knew him for a man careless of politics, but disciplinary for actions of war.
But even the strikes could not silence the angry soldiers, the next day, they shouted out jeers at the politicians, smashing and excreting on anything Popa related, until Symon ordered them silenced.