[Part 1]:
For the next 3 days, Aurelio and his family sought refuge in the camp, alongside the ever so growing amount of refugees that come from villages in the Outskirts of Miliscient Nearly all these villages had been razed—likely annexed by Veridian forces, although in this realm, communication across the kingdom was slow, leaving them uncertain. Despite ample rations in the camp for now, which weren't expected to run out any time soon, the villages in the outskirts of the kingdom had been burned down by Veridian soldiers, all harvest had been cremated with the villages. That meant that as soon as the rations depleted, the entire nation would starve.
Fabian went around inquiring about the war, because he wanted to be up to date with the latest updates on it. The staff in the camp and many other royal guards knew Fabians shining reputation as the previous wrath of Miliscient kingdom and one of the most well known knights in the kingdom, a knight so famous that he had a part of the royal garrison in Meraleth named after him. His reputation preceded him among the camp staff and royal guards, who treated him with deference akin to a lieutenant. They shared what they could with him, but the general populace remained largely uninformed, lest tensions escalate further.
Although the king himself really admired Fabian, he couldn't meet or greet Fabian, let alone treat him to special services as a way to repay him for his duty in the past, since he was busy dealing with more urgent matters such as how to stop the oncoming invasion and the mass killing of civilians, all the while deploying soldiers to fend off the enemy forces.
...
Meanwhile, in the global ethics tribunal, a court designated on deciding universally accepted ethics in matters such as war and diplomacy, diplomats from Miliscient debated with Veridian counterparts over clear violations of international war ethics. The [Clause for Humanity], a codex recognized by over 250 empires and kingdoms around the world, cited numerous breaches, including the mass killing of civilians—a punishable war crime—and the destruction of crops to starve out a population, deemed a genocidal act. Any nation, kingdom or empire who was recognized committing such atrocities was hailed to doom an unavoidable boycott, and immediate action by all 250 members of the tribunal, who vowed to uphold these terms until the next renewal of the codex.
Yet, the deafening silence of shameless world leaders echoed louder than any protest. Bound by politics and self-interest, everyone turned a blind eye to the atrocities unfolding in Miliscient. The insatiable appetite for power and wealth eclipsed any semblance of moral responsibility, leaving innocent lives to perish in the shadows of indifference. It sounded absurd, how could anyone look at what was going on in Miliscient and not say anything about it?
No matter how compelling their arguments, how meticulously they presented evidence, not a single soul dared to speak out. Instead, they clung to denial like a shield, deflecting accusations with practiced ease. In the hallowed chambers of justice, where truth and righteousness were meant to reign supreme, only silence reigned supreme.
...
In the dimly lit expanse of the king's throne room, shafts of light filtered through the heavy curtains drawn across the towering windows, casting long shadows that danced upon the polished marble floor. The hall was adorned with intricate tapestries and ornate furnishings, their opulence a testament to the small kingdom's unnecessary grandeur. Gathered within this stately chamber were the kingdom's most esteemed counselors and advisors, arrayed in a symphony of premium-quality robes and cloaks. Their garments, dyed in a kaleidoscope of rich hues, lent an air of regal splendor to the assembly, each thread woven with the tapestry of their collective wisdom and experience. Standing in two orderly lines flanking the imposing throne, they awaited their sovereign's command, their faces etched with concern for the fate of their realm. A sense of urgency permeated in the hall.
At the center of this august assembly sat the king, his majesty Nusena Miliscient , resplendent upon his throne, his countenance grave yet determined. With a long white beard cascading down his chest and a face lined with the passage of time, he bore the weight of his years with dignity and grace. A scar marred one eye, a silent testament to battles long past, yet it only served to enhance the steely resolve that burned within his remaining gaze. Flanked by his trusted advisors and courtiers, he exuded an aura of authority and command, his presence a beacon of hope amidst the encroaching darkness of uncertainty. As he surveyed the gathered assembly, his eyes ablaze with resolve, he knew that the fate of their kingdom rested upon their shoulders, and that they must act swiftly and decisively to ensure its survival.
Addressing the assembly with a voice heavy with responsibility, the king outlined the dire circumstances facing their kingdom in the wake of the Veridian empire's invasion. Despite the suddenness of the assault, the kingdom had swiftly mobilized 2000 soldiers, a testament to years of meticulous preparation for such an eventuality. These warriors, divided into smaller battalions, had been dispatched to the vulnerable villages, tasked with stemming the tide of the enemy advance and buying precious time for reinforcements to arrive. The old king raised his hand to stop the chattering in the hall and stood up from his throne.
"Today, my esteemed councilors," the king began, his voice echoing with resolve, "we stand at a crossroads where the future of our kingdom hangs in the balance. If we waver today, our kingdom will fall tomorrow, which is exactly why I have summoned you wise men here, we must come up with a solid plan to stop the invasion now!"
As the king turned his gaze upon his assembled counselors, he sought their collective wisdom on charting the kingdom's path forward amidst the looming threat of invasion. With each advisor offering their counsel and expertise, a flurry of ideas and strategies filled the chamber, ranging from fortifying key positions to seeking alliances with neighboring realms.
Yet, amidst the multitude of proposals, one suggestion resonated with the king's own thoughts on the matter. A seasoned advisor, known for his keen insight and strategic acumen, proposed a bold course of action: the conscription of able-bodied youths into the kingdom's defense forces. In a land where manpower was scarce and the enemy's numbers vast, the enlistment of all men of ages 14,15 and 16, considered adults in the eyes of the realm, would bolster their ranks and provide much-needed reinforcements.
Furthermore, the advisor advocated for the deployment of the kingdom's elite special forces unit, the renowned Shielach squad that consisted only of awakened homo praestiens. Renowned for their unparalleled skill and unwavering loyalty, these elite warriors stood ready to confront any threat to the kingdom with unmatched courage and determination. Though the validity of such rumors was questionable, there were many rumors circulating around the kingdom that the only reason Miliscient hadn't lost the territory of Meraleth , their only major city of importance that hadn't been annexed, traded, or destroyed was because the Shielach squad wiped out any army that tried to invade.
The king nodded thoughtfully, recognizing the wisdom in his advisor's words. "A prudent course of action indeed," he declared, his voice resonating with resolve. "Prepare the necessary decrees for the conscription of our youth, and mobilize the Shielach squad. The defense of our kingdom begins now!"
[part 2]:
As the early morning light filtered through the clouds, casting a pall of gloom over the refugee camp, Aurelio lay awake in his tent, his mind consumed by the horrors he had witnessed. The memories of the Veridian soldiers' merciless onslaught upon Bavona village played on an endless loop in his mind, each scene more harrowing than the last. The sight of innocent civilians falling to the blades of the enemy, the sound of homes ablaze with fire, the scent of smoke and blood that lingered in the air – it was all too much to bear.
Despite the exhaustion that weighed heavy on his limbs, sleep eluded Aurelio, his restless mind plagued by nightmares that refused to let him rest. Every time he closed his eyes, he was transported back to that fateful day, reliving the horrors anew with a clarity that made his blood run cold.
Outside the tent, the camp stirred to life, the subdued murmurs of refugees mingling with the distant sounds of activity from beyond the camp's perimeter. But within the confines of his tent, Aurelio remained ensnared in the grip of his own turmoil, his heart heavy with the weight of his trauma.
Suddenly, the tranquility of the morning was shattered by the sound of hooves pounding against the earth, accompanied by the unmistakable clamor of a horse-drawn carriage approaching the camp. Aurelio's pulse quickened at the unexpected intrusion, his senses on high alert as he strained to discern the source of the commotion.
Moments later, a lone figure emerged from the swirling mists, mounted atop a steed of noble bearing. Clad in the regal attire of the kingdom, the rider cut a striking figure against the backdrop of the somber morning, his presence commanding attention as he made his way towards the heart of the camp.
With a voice that carried across the camp like a clarion call, the figure addressed the assembled refugees, his words ringing out with a solemn authority that brooked no dissent. "Hear ye, hear ye!" he proclaimed, his voice echoing with a resonance that belied the gravity of his message. "By order of the kingdom, it is decreed that all males of ages 14, 15, and 16 are to be drafted into the royal army, to be taken to the royal garrison this very evening."
The announcement sent shockwaves rippling through the camp, a chorus of gasps and murmurs rising in its wake. For Aurelio and his fellow refugees, it was a grim reminder of the dangers that lurked beyond the safety of their makeshift sanctuary, a stark testament to the harsh realities of war.
As the news of hundreds of youth's impending draft spread, emotions ran high among their families and friends. Fabian, fiercely opposed to the idea of Aurelio joining the army, spared no effort in attempting to secure Aurelio's exemption from the draft. Despite his stature among the royal guards, his pleas fell on deaf ears, leaving him powerless to prevent the inevitable.
Valarie's heart, heavy with sorrow, fought desperately against the cruel fate that threatened to tear her family apart. She beseeched the guards with impassioned pleas, her voice cracking with emotion as she begged for mercy, but her cries fell on unyielding ears. The harsh reality loomed before her, unyielding in its cruelty.
Jane and Haiya, though young and naive to the intricacies of war and politics, understood the gravity of the situation all too well. Their innocent hearts could not bear the thought of losing their beloved brother, their pillar of strength and support. Tears streamed down their cheeks as they clung to Aurelio, their desperate pleas echoing through the air like a lament.
"Aurelio, please don't leave us," Jane sobbed, her voice choked with grief. "Who will play with me when I'm bored? Who will cheer me up when I'm sad? Please, don't go."
Haiya's trembling voice wavered as she spoke, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "You can't go, big brother," she implored, her words a desperate plea. "There's still so much I want to learn from you. You can't leave me!"
Valarie's heart shattered into a million pieces as she looked upon her family, her world crumbling before her eyes. "Fabian, this can't be happening," she whispered, her voice trembling with anguish. "Tell them, please..."
In the face of their despair, Aurelio summoned every ounce of strength within him, forcing a brave smile to his lips despite the tears that threatened to overflow. With a heavy heart, he made a solemn promise to his loved ones, a vow forged in the fires of determination and hope.
"I swear, nothing will happen to me," he declared, his voice unwavering despite the turmoil within. "And when this war is over, I'll come back home to you all... I promise."
Fabian had already accepted this situation, it was a habit he had learned from his time in the army, "don't worry over the inevitable", though whether it was a good habit or a bad one wasn't very clear at the moment. His stoic face had a faint smile forming on his face, a smile that was a mix of hope, pride, and slight sorrow. He stuck out his pinky finger as a way to lock in the promise.
Aurelio felt a lump form in his throat as Fabian extended his pinky finger, a gesture they had shared since childhood—a symbol of unbreakable bonds and solemn promises. With tear-filled eyes, Aurelio locked his pinky with his father's, a silent vow passing between them that transcended words.
"And if you don't," Fabian added, his voice softening with a hint of humor to lighten the somber moment, "I'll make sure that you pay for breaking your promise." A faint smile graced his lips, a fleeting attempt to ease the heaviness of their hearts.
Aurelio managed a weak laugh, though his heart felt like it was breaking. "I'll remember that," he replied, his voice catching with emotion. This moment, etched into his memory, marked the beginning of a new chapter—a chapter defined by sacrifice, courage, and an unwavering determination to protect those he loved.
As Aurelio prepared to leave, each step weighed down by the gravity of his duty, he carried with him the echoes of his family's love and the weight of their hopes. In the crucible of conflict, amidst the fires of courage and resolve, he vowed to forge a path towards a brighter tomorrow—one where the triumph of reunion would drown out the whispers of doubt that haunted them now.