Her words made everyone shift uncomfortably.
General Daniel's expression turned dark. His voice was sharp when he asked, "How much is left?" His words echoed in the room, making even the air feel heavier.
General Janet sighed. "At most, six months before we are forced to eat only compressed biscuits and basic staples like rice and wheat. If more refugees arrive, even that will shrink to three months, maybe less."
Daniel's fist hit the table. His knuckles turned white. He knew she was right.
'Forty to fifty thousand people already strain the base. When more co, this place will collapse if we do not find food. If we fail, it will not just be hunger. It will be riots, blood, and chaos.'
The generals grew silent, the room thick with worry. Then, with a sly smile, General Frank spoke.
"I have a simple solution."
Everyone turned to him. General Daniel narrowed his eyes. He knew Frank's tone well. A fox always sounded calm when it was ready to bite.
Frank leaned back in his chair and spread his hands. "If we each donate ten percent of our private reserves, the base will have enough to keep going. It is only fair."
The room stayed quiet. But in everyone's mind, the sa thought appeared.
This was aid at Daniel. Everyone knew he had stored up more food than anyone else, buying supplies when others thought they had ti.
His wealth and foresight ant he had enough food for ten years. If he gave ten percent, it would hurt him far more than the rest.
General Miller broke the silence. He smiled like he was agreeing with a good plan. "It sounds fair to . In fact, I think those of higher rank should give more. We are soldiers. We exist to protect people. It is our duty to sacrifice first."
Frank nodded eagerly. "Exactly. Miller understands. The stronger ones should lead by example."
At this, General Conard frowned. He slamd his hand lightly on the table.
"That will not do. Ten percent from each of us is not equal. Frank's ten percent may not even compare to one tiny piece of Daniel's wealth. How is that fair?"
Everyone's eyes turned again to Frank.
But Frank only chuckled. "Conard, you are thinking wrongly. Have you never heard the saying? What you can give is what makes it precious. A poor man giving everything is more noble than a rich man giving only a little."
Daniel's jaw tightened. His teeth ground together. He was ready to speak when Silas, his son, suddenly leaned forward.
"If that is your logic," Silas said coolly, "then you should give everything you have. Because compared to my father, your ten percent is nothing. To equal even a piece of his contribution, you'd need to donate all of it. That would truly be noble."
Frank's smile stiffened. His face twitched, but he did not explode. Instead, he tried to laugh. "That is not what I ant."
Silas tilted his head with a mock look of regret. "Ah, that is a pity. For a mont, I thought you were a real hero."
So of the other generals stifled laughter. Frank's face turned red. He looked at Silas with barely hidden rage. "Captain Silas, you should mind your words. This is no way for a junior to speak to a senior."
Daniel finally stepped forward, his expression stern. "This is my fault. My son is too straightforward. He cannot bear injustice, so he speaks without restraint. I will teach him later."
Even though Daniel's words sounded like he was scolding Silas, everyone in the room could hear the truth. He was defending his son. He was saying Silas was not wrong.
'As expected,' one general thought, hiding a smile. 'Daniel always stands by his son. Even when they argue in private, in public he protects him like a shield.'
Silas looked around the room. His eyes were calm, but his words cut through the tension like a knife.
"Instead of wasting ti arguing about who should donate more, why don't we focus on retrieving the food that's been subrged in the flooded areas?"
The generals shifted in their seats. So glanced at each other, uneasy.
Everyone knew what he was talking about.
Even though most of the food stores had already been stolen by thieves, and so had been taken away by other factions, there were still hidden reserves.
The governnt had once placed them in remote areas. Getting to those reserves was difficult. The roads were ruined, the waters deep, and danger waited everywhere.
That was why the topic was always avoided.
But now that Silas had brought it up, no one could pretend anymore. His words carried weight.
'He's right,' General Conard thought, frowning. 'We cannot sit here blaming each other. Those supplies may be our last chance.'
General Frank's eyes lit up. He leaned forward, his smile too eager. "Then tell us, Captain Silas. Where are these reserves?"
Silas didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned back slightly and let a quiet chuckle escape his lips. His sharp gaze swept across the room.
"Last ti," he said slowly, "when the military truck carrying dicine was ambushed, who was blad? Us. And what happened? The dicine disappeared. If I reveal the location of the reserves now and sothing goes missing again… the responsibility will fall on . This pot is far too big for to carry alone."
The room grew tense. So generals lowered their heads, uncomfortable.
General Frank's smile froze. His face turned stiff.
He knew very well what Silas was pointing at. Last ti, it had been Frank's own people who secretly transported the dicine to the Black Vultures.
He had profited from the disaster, and no one could prove it.
'Damn brat,' Frank cursed inside. 'He's not going to give the chance this ti.'
He tried to keep his voice calm, but his tone was colder.
"Captain Silas, if you refuse to share the location, how can we trust you? What if you and your team find the food and take it for yourselves? Or worse, add it to your personal stock?"
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