The Price of Victory

The march back to the capital was and somber. The wounded were carried on makeshift stretchers, while the dead were transported in silence. Though they had won the battle, the air was thick with the weight of loss.

Xypheron rode at the front, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. His army, though victorious, was battered and weary. The men who had once shouted battle cries now spoke in hushed tones, their energy drained.

Vexaria rode beside him, silent for most of the journey. It was an unfamiliar quiet between them