Published: 2025-10-03

People closed their doors and windows as General Bernard marched through the streets of Subterránea. The man himself never set foot underground unless the circumstances were extraordinary. A thumping sound echoed across the land with each new step he took; he was accompanied by one hundred men who, with straight backs and lustrous boots, followed him closely. Kids peeked behind the curtains against their mother’s advice. The paleness of the marching men’s skin, whiter than milk, fascinated the Subtarreneans.

The military men took the town’s plaza. Merchants took hold of their goods as best as they could and abandoned their cars; doing business in public spaces was prohibited, and breaking the law in any form was considered an affront to the empire and punished by death. General Bernard’s visit objective, however, was not to deter starving merchants from earning a living; therefore, the men were not persecuted.

A young soldier opened a scroll he carried under his arm and read it aloud: “People of Subterránea, the empire demands your immediate presence. The illustrious General Bernard brings you a message. Those who don’t come to the plaza immediately will be found in contempt of law.”

People flooded the streets and ran to the plaza. All able people had to assist: Men, women, children, and even the elderly.

The plaza filled with people who, with terror, stood in front of the high-ranking official, lowering their heads to avoid offending him with their gaze. As the place overflowed with bystanders, the general took a step forward to address the crowd. Nothing but silence could be heard as the general’s head moved from left to right, looking into the crowd, as if combing the area with his gaze. “Citizens of the empire,” he said, “it has been brought to my attention that your people had engaged in the worst of crimes: heresy. We have it in good authority that your people have reinstated the cult to the most despicable of beings: the Sun.” People, still with their heads lowered, looked at the ones to their left and right, wondering who might commit such a crime. “As a punishment for such insolence,” he continued, “50 married men and 50 married women will be paid as a tribute to the king. Those who oppose in any way will be punished.”

People resisted the urge to protest; it was only four months ago when they had paid 10 married men and 10 married women as a tribute to the king, as they did every year. Their people could not take care of the orphans, nor support the women who lost their husbands. Some of whom preferred to commit suicide rather than bring their children up by themselves.

“You will make the tribute 10 days from now. You are all dismissed.” General Bernard said.

A mother who watched near the front row tried to squeeze the hand of her toddler, who she thought was standing by her side, when she realized the child was nowhere to be found. Her first impulse was to cry for help, but she didn’t dare even raise her head in the presence of an envoy of the king.

The child, mesmerized by the deep, vibrant voice of the general, had walked onto the stage where the military men stood.

His crying pierced through the mother’s ears. As she raised her head, she saw a soldier hitting her child in the face with the back of his rifle. She opened her mouth to scream, but couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“Stop.” General Bernard said as he approached the scene. “We are not barbarians.”

Hearing those words made the mother feel as if her soul returned to her body.

“Shoot him.” General Bernard said.

First came an explosive sound, then the child fell to the ground. His little body over a crimson pond of blood. The mother ran towards the child, and a soldier knocked her down. “My child, my son.” She cried as she extended her arms, trying to hold him one last time.

“Execute her for defying the will of the king.” General Bernard said.

After a thunderous sound, the cries of the woman could not be heard anymore. People wept in silence, tightening their fists, biting their lips until they bled, but nobody raised their head.

Soldiers approached the strongest men in the crowd and arrested them, suspected of heresy. They did not resist.

The general and his men returned to the surface, leaving behind the corpses of a mother and his child, and sorrow in the hearts of men and women who may become separated due to the tribute that had to be paid.

A young man, who witnessed the events at the plaza, left the crowd as soon as the army from the surface parted. He was shaking but tried to simulate. He didn’t stay to see the woman and child tended to; there was something he had to do. From the plaza, he walked through alleys, moving in the shadows but trying not to call attention to himself. Deep in the heart of Subterranéa, there was an old tavern, where lowlifes congregated; this was the man’s destination. He entered the old building as if it were his own house; he wasn’t put out by the muscular men drinking at the bar, nor were they concerned by his presence. He crossed the room and entered a door with the sign “authorized personnel only”. At the end of a long corridor, wooden stairs led to another room; it was the only basement in the subterranean town, and few were the ones who knew about it.

When he entered the room, nobody turned to greet him. The men prayed in front of a big, glowing stone, covered by the orange light that emanated from it. Unlike the rest of the inhabitants of Subterránea, the men were muscular.

The men finished their prayer and turned to their visitor. They could see the sheer terror in the young man’s eyes. Manuel, the leader of the men, approached him, “What is it, Alejandro? What’s the reason for the terror in your eyes?”

Alejandro looked at him with distant eyes and said, “Your wife. Your son. They’re dead. They were killed by Bernard and his men in front of my own eyes.”

THE END.