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In the Light of the Fading Sun Part II

Posted on Wed Feb 1st, 2023 @ 2:40am by President Tomás Garcia Cardoso

Mission: September, 2022
Location: Rio de Janeiro
Timeline: Date 2022-09-03 at 1845

Ernesto’s speech had stretched for quite a while as he charmed the crowd, galvanized them, and reminded them of the purpose of their campaign. Between him and Tom, he was the real politician. Tom was relatively quiet and private and he didn’t like popular shows. It was ironic, then, that he was the originator of the most popular political movement in the country. Lula da Silva and Bolsonaro had nothing on his supporters who worked with the exuberance of religious fervor. These faithful wanted to see their country made in the image of the creator, and both he and Ernesto wanted to deliver. As the speech clearly came near to a close, he looked at his wife and smiled.

“Do you know that I love you?” he asked her in a low tender voice.

“Of course I do.” she responded with a smile as she looked at him.

“I just wanted to make sure it was clear. I feel like things aren’t going to get any easier for our family as we approach election day. All those death threats have an effect, after all.” he said with a concerned voice.

Mariana leaned in, sneaking her face up under his, and pressing her soft lips gently against his own. She smiled.

“Whatever we face, my love, we face together. A man and his wife. A family.” she said easily.

He returned her kiss and pressed his nose against hers as well. When they met, she had been his superior officer’s young daughter. Their love story was somewhat complicated from the start, but they loved each other overtly and very deeply.

“Let’s get ready.” he said and stood up. He extended a hand to Mariana and helped her stand. He was wearing a dark gray suit with a silver tie which matched her dress. Typically a youthful looking man, he’d let his salt and pepper beard grow until he looked a bit old. He liked the look and through it made him look distinguished in this race full of older men. The two of them walked over to the door and waited for the announcement.

“At long last, I’m done.” Ernesto said from the podium before the crowd. “And it gives me great pleasure to welcome the leader of our party and the man who we are supporting to become the next President of Brazil. This man and his wife are very dear to Inez and me, and we share a very personal bond of friendship based on the dream we share for our country. The philosophers would call it a friendship of the good, not based on common interests or common goals, but based on the love of what is godly, and good, and right. Please welcome Tomas Garcia Cardoso and his wife, Mariana.”

At the cue, the Cardoso couple exited the door onto the stage to the screaming of the thousands and thousands in the crowd. Many people stood and the energy in the outside space was electric. Tom just smiled and waved mildly and kindly while Mariana blew kisses, and pointed to people she recognized. Soon after Tom got to the podium and gave Ernesto a firm handshake, he spoke into the microphone.

“The next Vice President, ladies and gentlemen!” he said into the microphone, prompting another round of applause. He turned and the two men hugged this time. Tom then turned back to the podium. “Thank you, Ernesto. Walking this journey with you has been an incredible adventure. You, Mariana, and Leonel cooked up so much of the party with me over cigars, drinks, and delicious meals. Our dreams of a country of God are coming true.”

It was a heartfelt statement delivered by Cardoso with obvious love. He was always very clearly compassionate and didn’t need to pretend. As Ernesto and Mariana walked down to join the growing group of their family, Tomas turned to his speech on the teleprompter.

“I’d like to start by telling you a story of greatness in the Americas. In the early half of the twentieth century, Mexico had followed the path of many nations and came under the leadership of a secular government bent on curbing the power which the true faith held over the lives of the citizens of that country. These ambitious men were worldly, and they hated the faith out of a love for wealth, power, and ease. The Cristeros, brave soldiers of the cross, left their peaceful civilian lives to take up arms and defend Holy Mother Church from the boot of the state.

A young boy by the name of Jose Sanchez de Rio understood the danger that looked over anyone who dared oppose the government, even at the young age of 14. He wanted to stand as a fighter for the cause of Jesus, recognizing the Christ as paramount over his country. They said he was too young, but he understood that their battle was too important to come down to age. His love for his lord was too great, and the desecrations he witnessed, too great as well. The boy insisted that he wanted the chance to give his life for Jesus Christ and so come to Heaven easily. Who has faith like this in Brazil?”

The crowd was now silent. Despite Tomas’ lack of love for wooing crowds, he was extremely effective at it once he got started. He spoke with passion and he, unlike most politicians, wasn’t afraid to challenge those who heard him.

“During the heaving fighting of 25 January 1928, Jose gave his horse to an older soldier that he might escape. He then sought cover and fired at the enemy until he ran out of ammunition. He was captured, and his passion began. Jose was ordered by government forces to renounce his faith in Christ or be killed. He chose to be killed. To break his resolve, he was made to watch the hanging of another Cristero. Jose, courageous as ever, encouraged the man, telling him that, soon, they would meet again in heaven after death. He prayed the holy rosary daily and wrote a letter to his mother which said he was ready to fulfill the will of God to whom he dedicated himself.”

“No matter how they tortured him, pressured him, and oppressed him, this little saint would not give in. On the evening of 10 February 1928, Mexican soldiers cut the bottom of Jose’s feet and made him walk around the town toward the cemetery. They cut him with a machete until he was covered in blood and wounds. He cried, he moaned in pain, but he would not renounce the Christ. They would stop him and say: “if you shout ‘death to Christ the King’, will will spare your life” Jose would only shout ‘I will never give in! Viva Cristo Rey!’”
“With this faith, Jose Sanchez del Rio met his master. He won the red crown of martyrdom for love of the rights of God. He shouted Viva Cristo Rey! What, then shall we shout…we Brazilians who live among the oppression of modernism, socialism, and the reign of the masonic elite?”

“Viva Cristo Rey!” came a voice of a man near the middle of the crowd, so loud it could be heard on the stage. Several other people repeated it until people began to shout the phrase together. Tomas nodded and smiled, but his heart was beating and his wasn’t planning on joining them.

“We must be brave like the saint! We must declare with one voice in this election and every single one to follow it that we do indeed want God, and that Christ the King lives! We must be ready for whatever recriminations the elites of this country hand to us. We must open our hearts and our mouths to proclai-”

A loud bang cut off his speech. A sound from nowhere; a splatter of blood; a ring of red appearing by the silver tie of Tomas Garcia Cardoso. And then, as the crowd gasped and a man was wrestled to the ground near the first few rows, the leader of the Catholic Solidarity Movement collapsed to the floor.



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