Heir to the Empire

56. Death's Bain

The aftermath of an intense battle had not been as Loldirr had expected. Instead of basking in the glory of victory, it had been a long hard day of disarming, organising and subjugating the defeated. If it wasn't the sorting of the living that kept everyone occupied, it was the sorting of the dead.

What was once a green field was now muddy and bloody, littered with the body of three thousand dead or dying from both sides.

She had taken the time to speak with some of the severely wounded, giving them an ear to hear as their last words were spoken. Words of love, lust, loss and loathing had been a bittersweet way to spend her time as the dying took their last breath.

There was something in their final words that made her want to listen as if their lives had been stripped bare, left with only the truth remaining. As they spewed their last breath, she could sense their lives draining away and death clinging to their very being.

Walking across the battlefield, Loldirr oversaw the terms of the surrender being enforced. All soldiers would be allowed to return to their homes, minus the weapons they had brought to the battle. Sir Bradajois would be allowed to remain in Ravenscourt until he had recovered from his wounds well enough to travel, though there was no certainty that he would want to leave even once allowed.

Staring up at the enormous trebuchets that had reaped havoc on the walls of Ravenscourt, Loldirr had hoped she had done right by her actions. The battle had been won, and Ravenscourt still stood firm, but many had lost their lives, and deep inside, she felt she had lost a little bit of herself in the process.

The bloodlust she had unceremoniously experienced bothered her greatly.

"Loldirr?" a voice spoke behind her.

The smile that she felt as she spun around had been one she had not experienced in some time, recognising the voice that she had not heard since leaving this very city. Without hesitation, she sprinted and launched herself at Ethelston, embracing him tightly as if reunited with a long lost sibling.

Holding Ethelston tight, the embrace was mutual, and the small chuckle that escaped his lips seemed to be one of satisfaction. "I was worried I'd never see you again!" he huffed.

As Loldirr released the embrace, she felt Ethelston shudder slightly. Looking in his eyes, they didn't hide his exhaustion and uncharacteristic relief. His was a face that had expected to die this day, and perhaps any number of deviations from today's events could have caused that very result.

"Same here," she sighed, puffing her chest extensively, "we did it!"

A massive smile broadened itself on Ethelston's face, "no, you did it!" he replied.

Loldirr knew it was her battle, her victory. Still, without Hrok's experience, Sigurd Halfhand's brutal assault, Ravenscourt's valiant defence, or the outstanding leadership of the man standing in front of her, it would have been their bodies among the dead or captured this day. "Thanks, but I couldn't have done..."

Ethelston raised his hand before she could finish, "Your modesty is welcome but not necessary. History will remember the Battle of Ravenscourt, the day when the usurper's forces were thwarted by the rising armies of the last of the Aex-Igh dynasty. If you had lost, then all of us would have been forgotten, and your name would be forever in infamy. Besides, I already have the moniker Manticore Hunter; I need no other."

Ethelston had not missed Loldirr's tired smile; it was a welcome sight. "Erdudvyl, is she well?"

A spark seemed to light Ethelston's eyes as they spoke of her, "Aye, she is. She took it upon herself to take care of the wounded. I feel that she will be busy for quite some time."