First Blood

Maksim had been expecting resistance, but not this soon. The Xekhai Party's popularity had ignited fear among rival factions, giving rise to a simmering tension that bubbled under the surface of Coslevia's political landscape.

"Maksim, the security around our events needs to be tightened," Lev, the party's security chief, said one morning. He had just returned from investigating an anonymous tip regarding a potential threat to their upcoming rally.

Maksim nodded, his expression grave. "How many additional personnel are we talking about?"

"An additional fifty for the main event. We should also increase the number of undercover agents in the crowd," Lev replied.

Maksim approved the reinforcements and urged Lev to take any necessary precautions. He was not willing to risk the safety of his supporters. He felt a responsibility towards them, towards the trust they had placed in him.

As the day of the rally approached, the tension was palpable. Rumors of an attack circulated among the populace, causing a stir of anxiety. Yet, on the day of the rally, the turnout was impressive. Nearly twenty thousand supporters filled Crestwell's main square, their spirits undeterred by the whispers of danger.

Maksim was halfway through his speech when it happened. A loud explosion resonated through the square, followed by a chorus of screams. Panic spread through the crowd as people ran for safety, pushing and trampling each other in their desperation.

The stage was enveloped in a cloud of smoke, obscuring Maksim's vision. He felt a hand on his arm, pulling him away. It was Lev, his face grave as he led Maksim to safety.

The aftermath of the attack was horrifying. Six people lost their lives, and around thirty were injured. The city was in shock, the gruesome incident making headlines across the nation.

"Who is behind this?" Maksim demanded in an emergency meeting that night.

"We're still investigating," Lev replied, his voice strained. "We found remnants of a home-made bomb at the site. It's too early to identify the perpetrators."

Maksim's gaze hardened. "I want them found, Lev. I want justice for our people."

The attack was a brutal blow, a stark reminder of the dangerous path they had chosen. But it also strengthened Maksim's resolve. He would not be deterred by these acts of violence. He would fight for his people, for Coslevia.

He went on national television, addressing the country in a moving speech. "Today, we mourn our brothers and sisters who fell victim to this heinous act. But let us not be paralyzed by fear. Let us stand together and show our enemies that we are strong, that we will not be silenced."

In the following days, support for the Xekhai Party surged. An outpouring of sympathy and solidarity flooded in, with the party's approval rating climbing to an unprecedented 85%. The people of Coslevia had spoken. They trusted Maksim, and they were ready to face the storm with him.

But as Maksim reviewed the reports of the attack, a piece of evidence caught his eye. A fragment of the bomb had a familiar symbol etched on it. It was the emblem of the Orelov family. His heart pounded in his chest as he realized that the political war had turned personal.