"Wake up Badoligo", was one word I would never hear again. My Father Giuseppe, had joined an outcry once and perished in it. My mother passed away long when I was three, attacked harassed and in the end slain by a Frenchman.

A man of twenty I am, the name's Seniore Badoligo Hiszetti. I was born about in 1238 with my two older brothers in front of me. Both supported my father in the first revolt, both were slain. After the demise of my family I vowed to take revenge and massacre the French.

I lived in the Island of Sicily, which was owned by the German Holy Roman Emperor. We respected him, as he respected the Italians, but after his demise, things fell apart like hell. The Count of Anjou, Charles I attacked the last few settlements in Sicily and in the Battle of Campinio, he defeated the German heir to Sicily, King Manfred and his son Conrad. Both were executed in the same zone.

Now I woke alone in the morning when my newsboy, Gambino delivered me a news which gave me such a powerful adrenaline boost, I never forgot it. A few nuns had gone to pray in the Palermo Cathedral in the Capital, when they were attacked by a group of Drunk French soldiers. The French attacked them and did such horrid, disgusting acts to them that the local peasants had to run in and save the nuns. The French Lieutenant, Carloais even managed to decapitate a peasent, but it sparked a rage. Carloais was pierced by a pitchfork, and slain. Later the rest were taken care too.

I exhaled a sense of happiness. "Father, Brothers, and il Mamma, you'll be avenged now by your boy".

I let out a tear, a single tear of joy. I grabbed a Shortsword from my room and put on my brother's old brigandine and rushed out to fetch my horse, and raced out to the capital.

Rushing through the gates, tackling the winds of regret, I rushed and rushed. Downing the crevase paths, crossing the lake of doom, I rushed along. Adrenaline boosting through my vessels, the swelled of rage, anger and a wrath against the French. Long had their tyranny lasted on our great island.

I reached the Capital finally. I stepped down on ground, lodged my horse and sprinted towards the Cathedral. At the Cathedral, in the Lord's preaching platform, there stood a man with a pike in his hand. He posed like a beast of wrath, his eyes darkened by the red blood of the French. On the pike stuck the decapitated head of Carloais, the French Lieutenant. This man was to become the leader of the Rebels. He was called John of Procida. "Hey mei, nunc interfecto Carloais, nunc contra totous Gallae constitutionem Panorni primum ac deinde totous Sicilian redintergare possumus, sed regular Gallixa omnini flagitiosa," he said, in Latin, which he finished with a cry of war, "I CALL UPON A REVOLT NOW! THE VESPERS OF SICILICA!"

After we swooped out to check of any Frenchman who might attack us, we shut the cathedral's doors and in it, we burnt the wretched carcasses of the French men. The scent of burning flesh was putrid, but it smelt of a work we had done, a sort of hate crime, for the grace of Sicily we committed, we had to, It was for Sicily.

After the burning ceremony, we sat at the banqueting area, John at the center, where he raised his glass of champagne, and spoke, "My men, I raise my glass for our victory, I raise it for the disestablishment of Angevin Sicily. This land belongs to us, our ancestors had travelled from Normandy, and kicked out the Fatimids, and made this land fit for Christianity. Our great king Roger II, With all his might supported the Pope against the combined powers of England and France. He led our victory against the powerful Byzantine Empire, long back, but after his doom all fell. Tancred, a dastardly wretch ascended to the Sicilian throne. Through fate, Germany took over our Island, but at least they respected us, the respected our culture, language, people, but after the terrible incident at Campiano, The French took over, and now that demonic county, that is Anjou, has taken over, Count Charles leading the lot. They call Charles, the"great", but we'll call him the great buffoon, the great unashamed wretch, the tyrant who has no right over Sicily. On this day my men, I John of Procida, shall start leading you to the Reconquista of Sicilica".

A roar of words scattered around, everyone cheered the Leader's words. Everyone wailed, "Ay, bring this man a crown, a coronet worth for an emperor" or "Hail him, Hail him all around for this Procidan deserves it".

John Quietened everyone down, and began his second speech, his life story.

"On a gusty day of 1230, I was born. I grew as a physician. I wanted to treat people. I loved my country, and I wanted to keep my people in good health for I knew, that they were the best ones who would run it. I was married, to a beautiful young lady, Madam Konstantina, from Achea. I had three children with her, I remember. Ah, how little they were, how sweet, two rolling on the floor, giggling and the other at his mother's breast , but now.. Now they are no more, not a single one of them is alive, not my wife not my children. All slain by the French" He wept at the thought of them, he was a family less man like me it seemed "From then on I left my treating job, and now here I am, here I am with my fellow men and women who had the same cause as me, everyone in this room hates the French, every single Frenchman, and now vow with me, CHRISTUS BYIS, CONTRATIAS MORTE GALLIZZA(trns. BY CHRIST, WE WONT LET A SINGLE FRANK LIVE)

After John's speech, we all spread out on the street, slaying more Frenchman who charged at us. We shouted, all around, "Moranu li Francisi(trns. Death to the French!)"

We poured into French alehouses and inns, Smashing bottles and choking the French with their own Ale Glasses. We ransacked the houses of the Frenchmen, we burned them to nothingness, we completely obliterated any trace of French establishment in Palermo.

We vowed to not let any Frenchman alive. We even slew the wives of the French, who were Sicilian by birth, as they had given their love and heart to these tyrannical wretches.

The Frenchmen sent squadron after squadron of their villainous army, but we cleaved all of those rogues to bits. We also gathered their weapons, their blades bathed in French blood. We didn't forage for the shields though, as they had the Angevin flag, any Sicilian who would be caught using one shall be executed, for those shields glorified their flags.

I was racing down the streets clashing my Shortsword against the French, John following me. We had a chat while we battled our enemies. I asked, "Ay, John did your father also perish in war?, I asked. "Ay!", he replied, "Ay, he did. A valiant one's demise he faced. His avenging is one of the reasons I fight this war". "My Father Hubert, was a great man, he was a good husband, a good parent, and a mighty warrior. He served the Holy Roman Empire, and he rebelled against its enemies who conquered our Island. He was, however slain brutally. The French shot him in the neck by a crossbow first and then disemboweled him with a halberd. Then they had the audacity to chuck his rotting corpse in front of our house. I was about eight at that time. Me, My older sister, Flora and my mother all found the carcass in front of the path. My mother broke to tears, wailed, wept at the death of her husband. They had been married for nine years, and he perished the day before his anniversary. She could remember the last time he kissed her as the day before. She fell ill of her mental sickness, and oh the poor woman, she lost her life to it. We were heartbroken, but we still kept on living, trying to find a good time to strike back. My sister taught me medical science, and so I became a physicist. The. I got married to my late wife, the beautiful Konstantina, but oh the French took her from me. They executed her as she supported the escape of her brother, a prisoner and a Rebel. Our children were slain too, and now I am a broken man. I belive my sister is no more too. I am ready to die for my nation, as I have nothing to loose."

I knew John was as broken as me. I smiled at him and reassured him, that we his fellows would always be on his side. He smiled back and as we rushed forward we saw that the last if the French in that town had been slain off. Our First Ever Battle. It ended in a great victory. John's, mine and all of Sicily's dream was about to phase through.