As the of battle died down and twilight fell over the fields of Paldyggen, Lothar stood atop the hill and watched.
‘So many have died here today,’ he to his squire. ‘Loyal to the last, every of them.’
‘Sir,’ muttered young man. Lothar shifted his weight and leaned on the pommel his sword. He knew what meant – one day soon, he would king. There would be more battles like this, but none as bloody or as . The path was clear now, knew. He took a breath and raised his so that all men might hear.
‘We emerge from victorious!’ he bellowed. A ragged cheer came from the below. ‘With the blood of our fallen friends still upon us,’ continued, ‘with the smell our enemies’ fear in nostrils, with swords unsheathed and , we ride!’ Another cheer rang the valley. ‘We ride to Crown Point and to !’