Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Chapter 162: Hunger and Starvation

Large iron pots simmered over roaring fires, their contents bubbling in a mixture of grain, water, and a small portion of milk. The thick scent of the cooking porridge wafted through the cold air, carried on the tendrils of smoke that drifted above the camp. The smell was a lifeline for the starving refugees—simple and plain, yet to their empty stomachs, it was the scent of survival.

From all corners of the camp, men, women, and children emerged from their tents and ragged shelters, drawn by the promise of food. Their eyes were hollow with hunger, their cheeks gaunt. Slowly, they gathered into a large, disorganized crowd, circling the place where the fires burned and the pots boiled. Murmurs filled the air, mingling with the sound of crackling wood, as the refugees edged closer, desperate to get a portion of the meal.

Around the cooking stations, a line of 400 guards stood firm, separating the growing mass of people from the iron pots. Their faces were grim, their shields held high to maintain order. Each one of them had seen the chaos that hunger could cause, the way desperation could drive people to madness. Shouts echoed from the guards, demanding order.

"Form a line!" one of them bellowed, his voice hoarse from repeating the command over and over. "No pushing! Everyone will get their share!"

But the crowd was restless. Children, their tiny bodies weak from starvation, clung to their parents' legs, eyes wide and fixated on the food. Some of the bolder ones dared to dart forward, trying to get closer, while the men, lean and hardened by months of suffering, began to press in.

The guards responded swiftly. Shields crashed against the bodies of those who pushed too far forward. "Back!" a guard snarled, bashing his shield into the chest of a man who had tried to shove his way through. The man staggered back, coughing, but there was no anger in his eyes—just desperation.

Children who crept too close received harsh scoldings or light a push from a shield to send them scurrying back. "Wait your turn!" the guards growled, even though many knew that order here was a fragile thing.