Second Period: Ethics of War – Hall 9
This class was completely new. A different hall, a different professor, a different character.
Ryan entered a medium-sized hall, its walls painted grey, decorated with paintings depicting ancient battles. At the front, there was a simple wooden podium, and behind it a large board with an old quote written on it:
"Victory is not everything. But it is the only thing that remains."
Standing before them was a man in his fifties, with a short grey beard and sharp brown eyes. He wore a simple robe, but his presence was unmistakable. He carried a thick book under his arm, and placed it on the podium before he began speaking.
Professor Harold King – a former war philosopher, said to have spent twenty years studying ethics in battles. He was known for his honesty, and for not being afraid to ask difficult questions. His reputation preceded him; students whispered that he had once refused a promotion because it would have required him to compromise his principles.
He began the class in a quiet voice, but it was clear and decisive.
"Today we will talk about an old question: Does the end justify the means? "
He looked at the students with piercing eyes, as if reading their thoughts.
"In battle, you will face difficult decisions. Do you kill a wounded enemy groaning at your feet? Do you deceive an enemy who trusts you? Do you sacrifice soldiers to save others? Do you lie to your allies to protect your secrets?"
A short silence filled the hall. Some students shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
"Some of you think the answers are obvious. But they are not. When you are on the battlefield, when the blood is hot, and when your life is at stake, you will find that ethics become grey. Not black nor white, but shades of grey. The clear lines you drew in theory become blurred in practice. What seemed wrong in a classroom may seem necessary in the heat of combat."
Professor King gave examples from real battles. He spoke about the Battle of Blood Valley, where a commander had to sacrifice a hundred soldiers to save a thousand. He spoke about the Battle of the Burning Bridge, where a general deceived the enemy into thinking his army was larger than it really was. He also spoke about lesser-known battles, where commanders made choices that haunted them for the rest of their lives.
"In all these cases, the leaders faced difficult choices. Some made ethical decisions, some made unethical ones. And some didn't know the difference between them until it was too late. The weight of those choices stayed with them forever."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
Then he asked the students a question:
"What if you had two choices: the first is to save an entire family but you break a promise you made. The second is to keep your promise but the family dies. What do you choose?"
The students exchanged glances. Some raised their hands to answer, others remained silent. A few began whispering to each other, debating the question.
Professor King said.
"Take your time,This is not a question with a right or wrong answer. It is a question that reveals who you are."
Ryan listened attentively. He was thinking about the prince, about revenge, about whether killing one person was worth risking his family's lives.
he wondered.
'Does the end justify the means?'
'Is my revenge worth the price?'
He didn't find an answer. But he felt the question would stay with him for a long time. It was not the kind of question that could be answered in a single class, or even a single year. It was the kind of question that shaped a person's entire life.
At the end of the class, Professor King said:
"Ethics are not fixed laws. They are questions you must ask yourself constantly. Every battle, every decision, every choice – you will find yourselves asking: Is this right? Is this wrong? The answer is not always clear. But the question itself is what makes you human. Never stop asking it."
Ryan left the hall thinking about these words. This subject was different from anything he had studied before. It didn't teach him how to fight, but how to think. How to balance between what he wanted and what he had to do. It taught him that the hardest battles were not fought with swords, but within oneself.