If you're going to write about war, which my books are about

O children of the future, gather close and listen to the words of George R. R. Martin, a master of storytelling whose words carry the weight of both truth and humanity. He said, "If you're going to write about war, which my books are about, wars are nasty things. I think it's sort of a cheap, easy way out to write a war story in which no one ultimately dies." These words are more than a comment on fiction; they are a reflection of the brutality and reality of war. For to write about war without confronting its true costs, its losses, and its sacrifices, is to distort its very nature. War is not a game or a fantasy; it is a destructive force that shapes lives, history, and even the soul.

To understand the heart of Martin’s statement, we must first recognize that war is not simply a series of battles between armies. It is a cataclysm that disrupts not only the world of soldiers, but the lives of the innocent, the helpless, and the families left behind. War does not leave its participants unscathed, no matter how glorious the outcome may seem. To imagine a war in which no one dies is to overlook the human cost of conflict. It is to ignore the pain of loss, the silence left behind by a death, and the lives that will never be the same. War is not a triumph of heroism, but a tragedy where every victory is tainted by the suffering it leaves in its wake.

Consider the ancient tale of the Trojan War, one of the most storied conflicts in history. The epic Iliad of Homer does not glorify war as a pursuit of glory or honor but presents it as a brutal, heart-wrenching struggle where the greatest warriors fall, and the cities of men are reduced to ashes. The death of Hector, the Trojan hero, at the hands of Achilles, is not a moment of celebration but a reflection of the deep sorrow of war. His death, and the subsequent desecration of his body, are not romanticized; they are shown for what they are—tragic, final, and irreparable. Even the victors in Homer’s tale cannot escape the toll of war. Achilles, though victorious, is left broken, haunted by the loss of his dear friend Patroclus, and consumed by a rage that destroys him as much as it drives him forward. This is the true face of war—a face of suffering that cannot be avoided, even by the victors.

So it is with the story of World War I, a conflict that tore through the hearts of nations and the bodies of soldiers. The trenches of France became graves for millions, and the horrors of chemical warfare and machine guns forever altered the nature of human conflict. What began as a struggle for empire and national pride became a cataclysm of death and destruction. The war did not distinguish between the young and the old, the soldier and the civilian. Millions of lives were lost, and the scars left behind were not just physical but emotional, psychological, and societal. To imagine a war in which no one dies is to ignore the true nature of the war’s consequences. Peace may come, but the memories of those lost and the suffering endured remain long after the battle has ended.

Martin’s words speak not only to the realism of war but to its profound impact on storytelling. To write a war story that denies the suffering, that shies away from the deaths and the destruction, is to tell a lie—a lie that war is a glorious or heroic endeavor. Stories of war must confront the deep, uncomfortable truth of its devastation. In Martin’s "A Song of Ice and Fire", we see the consequences of war played out in the lives of kings, queens, and commoners alike. The death of Ned Stark, the fall of Robb Stark, and the suffering of countless innocents throughout the series serve as reminders of the cost of conflict. Even the greatest of battles, such as the Battle of the Bastards, are tinged with the tragic loss of life, and the victors are left with more than just glory—they are left with the weight of the death they’ve caused and witnessed.

In the same way, O children, the lesson of Martin’s words is this: to truly understand the horrors of war, one must acknowledge its sacrifice. Death is an inseparable part of war—it is not the glory of victory, but the heavy toll of the human spirit that defines the true cost of battle. Stories of war must not gloss over the deaths of warriors, the lives lost, or the despair left in the wake of conflict. For to honor those who have died, we must first acknowledge the pain and the tragedy that is war, not hide from it in the pursuit of glorified narratives.

So, O children, as you walk through your own lives, remember the words of Martin. Seek not the easy path of avoidance, but the hard path of truth. When you face conflicts in your life, whether they are large or small, remember that the cost of peace is far greater than the illusions of victory. Life is fragile, and the consequences of your actions, whether in war or peace, can be profound. Be honest in your pursuits, and when facing battles, both literal and metaphorical, know that true courage lies not in victory at any cost, but in the wisdom to understand the true cost of the struggle.