Across the country they built a ditch, of the Great Big variety. Though it had been at the instigation of the Mad King, they persisted in digging long after he was deemed such by the history books.
For national security, nothing entered the country but through the ditch. Crawling or clattering or blithely belly-sliding, or running on bloodied feet from failed crops and famine and the death of dreams, they tumbled in. Those cushioned by the mess of bodies were sent to the arenas, where they made crowds yawn by declining to lay hand or claw on another living thing.