The doors groaned as they creaked open. First through the entrance came General Halibart, a sharp green in his eyes that seemed to burn, refusing to be ignored. Next came the older general who had confronted me during the council meeting. His frame hunched forward, his cheeks concave, gave him the impression of frailty, though the weight of decades of service reflected in his gaze.
Halibart didn't waste any time. "Your Majesty, I request additional funds to feed the evacuees from the outer regions."
I didn't bother to look up from the treasury records spread across my desk. "Additional funds? For what?"
"To feed the people who are starving during the march," Halibart said, his voice even but with restrained urgency.
The treasury is strained enough," I said coldly, flipping a page. "Every coin is accounted for in preparation for the war."
"And what about the people?" Halibart pressed. "Without food, many won't make it to the inner regions. What's the point of this evacuation if they all die on the road?
I finally lifted my gaze to his. "The people are disposable, General. Soldiers are not. Feed the troops first. If the people starve, so be it."
Halibart's jaw flexed, fists clenched at his sides. "If I may say so, Your Majesty, this is insanity."
Before I could get in a word edgewise, the second, older general stepped forward, voice low and gravelly, yet with a decided firmness to it. "Insanity or not, he's the emperor, Halibart.
I turned to him. "And you are?"
The older man puffed himself up, his eyes hardening. "Already forgotten my name?" he snapped. "I've served this empire for decades—long before you were even born. I am General Albrecht Varnis, and I've fought wars in the name of emperors far greater than you."
His words cut deep, but I simply raised an eyebrow, leaning back into my chair. "Well, Varnis, you've made your point. But my decision stands. There will be no more funding."
Halibart's nostrils flared, and I could see him rein in his anger. Varnis merely sighed, his gaze falling to the floor.
"Come, Halibart," Varnis said, laying a hand on the shoulder of the younger general. "We've heard enough."
Halibart hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. Together, they turned and left, their footsteps echoing down the corridor.
As they strode through the marble halls of the palace, Halibart's frustration boiled over. "How can you just accept this, Varnis?" he snapped. "He's sending those people to their deaths, and you're letting it happen."
Varnis shook his head. "You think I accept this? You think I don't see what's happening?"
"Then why didn't you push harder?" Halibart demanded. "Why didn't you stand up to him?"
"Because I know how this game works," Varnis replied, his tone weary. "The emperor is young and arrogant, but he holds all the power. Challenging him openly will achieve nothing but getting us both executed.
Halibart froze, his body twisting to face the older general. "So what, then? We just follow orders and let those people die?"
Varnis returned his gaze with steely resolve. "We do what we can to minimize the damage. We work together. If the people must suffer, they'll at least know someone was there to guide them through the darkness.
Halibart's shoulders sagged, the fire in his eyes dampening somewhat. "Together, then."
---
The morning was cold, and a thin layer of frost clung to the ground. Halibart sat atop his horse, scanning the sea of people below. They shuffled in slow, uneven steps, a ragged line stretching for miles along the muddy road. Men, women, and children-all of them displaced, scared, and starving.
Keep moving!" Halibart yelled, his throat coarse from days of hollering orders. "Stay in line, and no one fall behind!"
Riding beside him, General Varnis sat in silence. His eyes cut through sharply as they moved over the mob of people. His shoulders were a little hunched now with age, but he seemed just as formidable. "This isn't order, Halibart. It's chaos," Varnis said quietly.
Halibart clenched his teeth. "What do you expect me to do? There's no food, no shelter. These people are dying, and we're the ones pushing them."
Varnis turned toward him, his face showing fatigue. "We don't have the luxury of fixing everything. Our job is to keep them moving. If they stop, they die."
"They're dying anyway," Halibart muttered under his breath, but he knew Varnis was right.
The first day was hard enough: the families huddled together as they walked, trying to shield their children from the biting wind; soldiers marched alongside, their faces grim as they held back the growing tide of desperation.
By noon, the first collapses began. An older man fell to his knees, clutching his chest. A woman screamed as her child slumped lifeless in her arms. Halibart dismounted his horse and approached them, his boots sinking into the mud.
"What happened?" he asked one of the soldiers.
"Heart failure, maybe," the soldier replied, his voice hollow. "And the kid… probably starvation."
Halibart clenched his fists. "Why didn't anyone stop to help?"
The soldier stared at him, his expression a mix of shame and exhaustion. "We're not supposed to stop, sir. Orders."
"Damn the orders!" Halibart snapped, kneeling beside the grieving mother. She clutched her child tightly, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry," he said softly, though he knew his words meant nothing.
"Leave her," Varnis called from atop his horse.
Halibart looked up at him in disbelief. "She just lost her child."
"If we stop for every death, we'll never reach the river," Varnis replied coldly.
Halibart stood, his jaw tight. "And what happens when we get there? What's waiting for them on the other side? A warm welcome? Food? Shelter?"
Varnis met his gaze evenly. "No. Just survival. And that's more than they'll get if they stay here."
Halibart wanted to argue, but he couldn't. He turned back to the woman. "You have to keep moving," he said gently.
She shook her head, her face buried in her child's hair. "I can't… I can't leave him."
Halibart's throat tightened. "I'm sorry," he repeated, standing and walking away.
---
Day Two
By the second day, the march had taken its toll. The road was littered with bodies of those that couldn't go on anymore. Soldiers tried to keep order, but the strain showed on their faces.
A small boy tripped and tumbled into the mud, his legs too weak to carry him farther. Halibart watched as his mother tugged at him, trying to lever him upright with her trembling arms. "Please, someone help us!" she cried.
Halibart swung off once more, but before he could reach them, Varnis laid a restraining hand on his arm. "You can't save them all."
"I'm not trying to save them all," Halibart said through gritted teeth. "Just this one."
"And what about the next one? And the one after that?" Varnis asked. "You'll burn yourself out before the day is done."
Halibart pulled his arm free and knelt beside the boy. "Get up," he said softly, pulling the child to his feet. The boy's eyes were dull, his breaths shallow. "You have to keep walking. For your mother."
The boy nodded weakly, and Halibart helped him take a few steps before letting him go. His mother gave him a grateful look, but Halibart couldn't bring himself to smile.
As he returned to his horse, Varnis sighed. "You can't let this get to you, Halibart. It'll destroy you."
"Maybe it should," Halibart muttered.
---
Day Three
By the third day, desperation turned to chaos. The refugees began to panic as food supplies dwindled. Fights broke out over scraps of bread, and soldiers had to intervene to prevent riots.
"Stand down!" Halibart shouted, pulling two men apart as they wrestled in the dirt. "There's nothing to fight over!"
"There's nothing at all!" one of the men yelled, his face red with anger. "We're starving, and you're doing nothing!"
Halibart shoved him back. "I'm doing everything I can!"
"It's not enough," the man spat before collapsing to the ground, too weak to continue.
Halibart glanced down at him, his chest heaving. He turned to Varnis, who stood a little way off, watching. "How much farther?"
"Another two days," Varnis replied.
Halibart swore under his breath. "Two more days of this… How many will be left by then?"
"Enough to rebuild," said Varnis simply.
Halibart shook his head. "You are heartless, Varnis."
"And you're naive," Varnis shot back. "This is war, Halibart. People die. If you can't accept that, you have no business being a general."
---
Day Four
The final stretch to the river was the hardest. The air was thick with the stench of death, and the road was slick with blood and mud. Halibart rode in silence, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
The soldiers were barely hanging on. Many had thrown away their helmets and weapons, their spirits broken by the utter horror of the march.
One of the younger soldiers approached Halibart. "Sir, we can't keep this up. The men are starving, and the refugees." He trailed off, his voice shaking.
"I know," Halibart said, his voice hollow. "But we have to. Just a little farther.
The soldier nodded reluctantly and fell back into line.
Varnis rode up beside him, his face unreadable. "We've lost over a quarter of them," he said quietly.
Halibart didn't respond.
As they approached the river, Halibart dismounted and walked alongside the refugees. He saw the haunted expressions on their faces, the vacant stares of those who had lost everything. He felt a deep, gnawing guilt in his chest.
"We did this," he said to Varnis.
"No," Varnis replied. "The emperor did."
Halibart shook his head. "We followed his orders. That makes us complicit."
Varnis didn't argue.
When they finally reached the river, the refugees collapsed in exhaustion, many of them weeping openly. Halibart stood on the bank, staring at the water as the sun set behind them.
"We've failed them," he said quietly.
Varnis laid a hand on his shoulder. "No, Halibart. We've kept them alive. That's all we could do."
Halibart said nothing. He couldn't rid himself of the feeling that this was only the beginning.