Sacrifice

A king makes a terrible choice to protect his people and his kingdom's future.

It was midnight and King Lucius of Andalusia stared up at the wooden structure in front of him, all of his subjects behind him: A funeral pyre, the size of a mountain. Working in shifts and teams, his servants and soldiers had built it in less than five days.
He wished that things hadn't come to this.
But it had.
A week ago, he had sent all children of the kingdom old enough to walk on ships to sail them far away from this condemned land.
His kingdom was invaded by the nearby kingdom of Althea.
And the reason was so typical of such invasions: They wanted their silk and the knowledge on how to make the silk.
Lucius would've been happy to set up a trade deal of sorts with them. But they just invaded. Now their army was getting closer to the city everyday.
The garrison near the river, a five day march, had fallen. Their last defense against invasion was utterly gone. When he received word of the garrison falling, King Lucius gathered all of his subjects, rich and poor, and delivered the grim proclamation: They would all burn.
He knew what the alternative was: The men would be killed immediately along with the babies and young children, and the women and girls would be taken as slaves, a fate that he knew would be worse then burning in fire.
Several soldiers stood on each side of the pyre, waiting. King Lucius gazed at the pyre and, for the briefest of moments, admired its massive size.
Then he looked at the soldiers on either side and nodded at them.
At this, they used their torches to light the base of the pyre. The fire caught on quickly, engulfing the pyre quickly and creating a mountain blaze.
A servant handed him a tome that was as long as his arm and was thicker than a barrel. It was what the Altheans wanted so desperately: Knowledge of how their silk was made. He would not allow it to fall into their hands. The only copy like it was on one of those ships, with his fallen kingdom's future.
It was heavy in his arms as he walked into the fire, all of his subjects following him without a single word. No one screamed. He could feel the fire on his skin. The pain was enormous. And King Lucius knew no more.