The wet brush slides against the canvas, and the smell of paint fills my office. But it is calming, quiet even. A relaxing symphony while I wait for the news to come in. The reports on my desk stay unread, the names and numbers of the dead left ignored just for this day. Sure, there might be important information in there, but they will have to wait for a bit longer.

  Huson walks into my office and shuts the door behind him. He sits down with an exhausted expression. He hasn’t been sleeping, nor have I, if I have to be honest. He glances at Olivia painting my portrait, but besides pulling a face of disgust, he just looks away.

  ‘You have anything?’ I say to him.

  ‘I do.’ Huson looks at me before he bows his head.

  I let him in on my plan, what we have to do to get my bill passed to ensure the survival of the Empire. Out of anyone, he is going to figure it out sooner or later. At first, he was hesitant, but he agreed because we are desperate to get some sort of victory. Sacrifices have to be made; it just so happens the price is the blood of innocence.

  I take a breath, my lungs swelling at the thought of what the news can be. ‘It’s the soldiers?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘How did it end?’

  Huson leans back into his chair as he bites his lips. ‘To plan,’ he painfully replies.

  My heart darkens, the entirety of the second and fifth platoon. All of them, dead by orders and my command. I want to know how they died, just so I can remember the choice I have to make. In a way, I have to be aware of their deaths; every single detail needs to be recorded, so if I have to make the same choice. I will know the actual costs of lives. But I don’t dare to, I don’t want Huson to go through that guilt again.

  I rub my eyes with my thumb and index finger. ‘Rerth?’

  ‘Sacked, the civilians escaped, but the soldiers stationed there are all dead.’

  ‘The qwell?’

  Huson shakes his head. ‘They’re returning home. Their leader is dead, they have no other choice but to return.’

  We keep our silence, either as a form of respect to the dead or to internally soak in the crimes we both committed. I don’t know, no one will know. It doesn’t help that the defeat of the qwell and their return home after one battle only wounds our war effort.

  Having had enough, Huson breaks the silence when he stands up from his chair. ‘The meeting is in twenty minutes, the council will be expecting you.’

  ‘I know,’ I mumble to him, unable to speak properly.

  With a nod, Huson leaves the room, his eyes still facing the floor. I hope he finds some company to relax, to soothe his mind in these troubling times.

  ‘Olivia,’ I turn to her. ‘I need a moment to myself, can you please head out to the garden and paint there?’

  She stops painting, hurt by what I am telling her to do. ‘But… I’m not finished.’

  ‘Go!’ I order, and without hesitation, she leaves my room with some of her art supplies. Leaving me alone to gather my thoughts. To have it all sink in. The deaths, the justifications I give myself. They are necessary, but it doesn’t remove the fact about how wrong they all are.

  I rise from my chair, passing around my room. My fingers dig deeper into my palms with every step. Frustrated, I reach into my desk drawer to pull out my necklace to wrap the chain around my right hand. Pulling it tightly till my hand becomes blue. I deserve this! This pain, this angrish. Gods, I need to do what I have to do. Those soldiers had to be sent there for the good of this realm. The Empire needs me to make the hard choices but I… I…

  Furious, I turn around to face my table and punch it with my right hand. As the metal comes in contact with the wood, a short burst of blue energy comes out of the necklace and causes the table to shatter and fall apart. Splitting in two. Paper flies all over the place while the ones I directly hit burst into flames.

  In shock, I look at the necklace and my hand. I felt nothing! I hit the table, a wooden table, so I can punish myself and hopefully break my hand. Yet, I broke it with a single punch. No, I didn’t break it; it can’t be me. I don’t have the means to do this.

  Two guards rush into my office, even though they seem surprised and scared at what I have done. ‘You okay, sir? We heard a loud crash.’

  ‘I’m fine, I just hit the table out of frustration.’ I lie, while it is true that I hit it. In reality, it is because of the magical artifact in my hand. The Shaman gave me this as a gift of protection, but it is clear that it has other properties.

  I turn to face the guard before leaving for the council meeting. ‘Get someone to clean this up and get me a new table.

  As I line up to enter the council chambers, I bitterly wait for the situation where I have to talk with the leaders of my Empire. Traya approaches me with an envelope.

  ‘This might be important to you,’ she says as she passes it to me.

  ‘Can you give me a quick rundown at least?’ I impatiently demand. If it is important, I don’t want to read it tomorrow morning.

  She raises a cocky brow, ‘let’s just say this is evidence to prove the Dragon Fleet isn’t doing their part in this war.’

  ‘And what makes you think that?’

  ‘General Regali. I run a postal service, so news gets to me first before anyone else. Still, I think we can agree that their aid is necessary if we want to win this war.’ She heads off, greeting herself at Tillous. The pious woman glances at me for a few seconds before she commences her conversation.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  ‘All may enter the chambers!’ The Pretorian Guard calls us in to start the meeting. I step inside the almost silent chamber. Some only talk in a murmur. The atmosphere already feels sombre. I suppose they got the news as well.

  Empress Rebecca sits on her throne. She waves a hand to signal the beginning of the council meeting. People bring up their grievances about the war, but I just sit there. I block them out, how they describe death and destruction in the most bureaucratic way possible. It is all formulaic, every life boiled down to a simple number. A heartless, but necessary way to put forward ideas when it is about the common folk. But when it comes to them, it has to be personal.

  A woman takes a stand to address the crowd, her eyes watery. ‘My nephew died last week. He and his friends were patrolling outside of Rerth.’ She takes a breath, trying not to break down during her speech. ‘I heard they thought bravely; they defended one of our holiest sites. But I feel all of that could’ve been avoided, that my nephew could still be alive.’

  My right ear rings, my head pounding as I remember the names from that list. She’s Kate Jones-Lyne, aunt of Lyode Jones. A soldier of the second platoon.

  ‘That is why,’ she continues with a tear sliding down her cheek. ‘That is why I propose we reconsider implementing Bill-285. I, and many others, know we are not soldiers. Deep down, I know we have our reasons for opposing these bills and suggestions made by the military elements of our Empire. But that doesn’t change the fact that we are out of our depth. We are not leaders who can lead our people to war, and I was foolish to think that we could. I should’ve listened. Instead, I ignored what we needed to stop the Dogs. For that, I am sorry. My story isn’t different from any other, and I hope you all can agree with the passing of this bill to prevent more blood of our future being spilled.’

  Politicians speak aloud, some argue that it is ridiculous that she is proposing the bill at a time when she is clearly incapable of thinking straight. But a majority speak in her defence, those who I affected. I slump into myself, my hands covering my face. Rubbing my eyes so I can hide my shame and guilt.

  ‘General Regali!’ The Empresses shout my name. I look up to see a crowd facing me. ‘You are the one who made the bill, are you going to speak on it?’

  I take the stand, my heart beating twice with every second to remind myself of the blood that made this bill being talked about again. That I put people under my command at the altar, to die for my ambition.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I blurt out for everyone to hear. I need to admit it all, for the love of the Gods, what I did was beyond evil. There will be nothing I can do that can make me forgiven. Their deaths are on my hands more than anything. I knew they would die! I knew their deaths would hurt the people in this room. If there is anything I should do, it should be the right thing.

  ‘I’m sorry, because they were under my command when they died. I’ve trained with them, and I even call some of them my friends. I did everything I could to prevent their deaths, but I failed. I failed not just myself but their families, friends, and loved ones of those who had died.’ My mouth tastes bitter when I swallow my lies. ‘This bill is necessary, yes, but I will abstain from the vote as their deaths deeply affected me, and I don’t desire to use them to leverage an idea I proposed in the last meeting.’

  I slump back down on my chair, the people argue their points in support or against the bill. As suspected, Tillous made her speech against me as some sort of performance. But I don’t care, because I know the truth about their deaths. All of this bickering and parliamentarian speak is predictable. It is why it is easy to push the bill.

  As expected, the votes came in, and I have the majority support to push the bill. Yet it all feels empty, a victory that isn’t satisfying but one that is worse than the feeling of defeat.

  While the meeting concludes, everyone makes their way out of the chambers. I stay behind, sitting down while I blankly stare at the centre of the room.

  In my trance, Wayne taps me on the shoulder. ‘You made the right choice, now things can get done.’ I don’t respond to him, noticing my silence, he continues to talk to me. ‘War darkens the hearts of even the strongest among us, but you didn’t let it control you. For that, I give you credit, General. Have a nice day.’

  ‘I need the fleet.’ I say to him before he can leave the chambers.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I need the Dragon Fleet in the fight.’

  Wayne’s eyes darken, as if I am making an unreasonable request. ‘I don’t need to…’

  I stand up before he can finish his sentence. ‘Why don’t you?’

  ‘What are you getting at, General?’

  ‘Every military arm of the Empire is sending troops to fight, and yet you haven’t sent a ship since last year. I want to know why.’

  ‘It’s classified.’ He bitterly responds.

  ‘Bullshit!’

  ‘Don’t bullshit me, General! My fleet is under my command, and right now, they will stay on guard in Sinda. That is all you need to know. Now, if you excuse me, I have something to deal with. If I were you, I'd get the entire country mobilised for the war against the Dogs.’

  Wayne storms out of the chambers, leaving me in the room to be truly alone.

  I don’t trust his explanation; he is hiding something. The bill will be in effect next week. By then, I will make sure this entire island will push the Dogs back. But most importantly, in this bill, it doesn’t just give the military more powers to fight in wars, but also the power to check on one another to ensure they are doing their part.

  Yes! That bastard has to be a traitor. How can someone who will offer the idea that my soldiers should be sacrificed? How can a man like him not send his fleet into a war that hinges on our very survival? I’ll build up my case against him, but for now.

  For now, I need to step back. My soul needs to heal, and I need to find myself.