With a creak, the heavy oak gates of Greenburg were finally abandoned by the last remaining resistance and swung open with a roar.
The victory horn, trembling with the aftermath of calamity, rang out in the blood-soaked air, announcing that this fortress guarding the vital transportation route had finally changed hands.
Linde trudged across the scorched, cracked, and cratered battlefield, his boots clattering on the sticky, muddy ground.
Behind them, exhausted but sharp-eyed soldiers escorted the dejected Sass prisoners into the castle in silence.
Inside the castle, the embers of the battle had not yet been completely extinguished. The air was thick with the stench of blood, burnt flesh, and an indescribable, nauseating stench of decay lingering from the Shadow Abyss's black mist.
The firelight flickered on the walls, illuminating a horrifying scene: corpses lay scattered everywhere—in passageways, courtyards, and at stairwell corners.
The garrison included soldiers in pizza leather armor or simple chainmail, as well as warriors in Cree-style leather armor.
Their postures varied, some curled up, some stretched out, frozen in the final moments of struggle or despair. Blood soaked into the cracks in the rocks, gathering into a dark red stream that flowed slowly.
The fierce street fighting left clear traces inside the castle.
The heavy wooden door was smashed to pieces, and the stone walls were covered with deep marks from knife and axe cuts.
Some towers had huge breaches smashed into their exterior walls by siege equipment, letting in a gust of cold wind.
The exquisite tapestries were torn apart, dripping with blood; furniture and miscellaneous items were overturned, smashed, and scattered all over the ground.
More jarring than the silence were the intermittent groans and suppressed cries of pain.
The castle hall and relatively intact rooms were temporarily requisitioned as a wounded soldiers' camp. The army's medics and soldiers with some medical skills bustled about, treating wounds with limited bandages and herbs.
The amputees were deathly pale, the unconscious were barely breathing, and the burned were uttering painful murmurs. The heavy smell of medicine and blood mingled together, creating a suffocating atmosphere.
Despite their exhaustion and grief, the soldiers began to carry out the cold, hard post-war procedures.
Squads of soldiers, led by their officers, carefully searched every corner of the castle, kicking open tightly closed doors to ensure that no resistance fighters escaped.
Other soldiers silently carried the bodies of their comrades and enemies, taking them to an open area outside the castle for initial collection and disposal.
The screech of metal armor dragging across the stone ground, the heavy footsteps, and the occasional short commands confirming safety formed a solemn background.
The Sassi camp outside the castle was in even worse condition.
The fences were pushed down and torn apart, and the tents were either burned to ashes or trampled beyond recognition.
Scattered weapons, broken shields, and overturned supply wagons were everywhere.
Where the Shadow Abyss Aggregate ravaged, it left behind vast scorched and cracked lands, barren of vegetation, exuding an ominous aura of embers.
Soldiers are clearing these areas, carefully avoiding the soil and objects that have been stained by the black mist and have taken on an eerie grayish hue.
Whether they were survivors of the Silver Lance Knights or bronze warriors under Lind's command, they all relaxed their tense nerves and showed extreme fatigue.
Many people leaned against walls, weapons, or even slumped on the ground, panting heavily.
Their armor was covered with scratches, dents, and dried blood; their faces were stained with gunpowder, dust, and sweat; their eyes held both the afterglow of victory and the bewilderment and heaviness of witnessing the horrific scene.
Food and water were distributed first, and the soldiers silently chewed their rations and sipped their water sacs, trying to regain their strength as quickly as possible.
Lind stood on the high platform of the main hall of Greenburg, where Commander Sass once issued orders.
He surveyed the chaotic and tragic scene below. The flames of victory burned in his eyes, but were shrouded in a thick gloom.
He saw Astaire and Raymond directing soldiers to clear the corpses piled up in the center of the hall, saw the medic sweating profusely as he tried to stop the bleeding of a young soldier with a severe abdominal wound, and saw Jeffrey being carefully lifted by two soldiers onto a relatively clean blanket.
His face was ashen, and although the wounds on his arms, which had been corroded by the black mist, were temporarily suppressed by the holy water and the power of the light veins, they still emitted ominous black patterns. He remained unconscious.
"grown ups,"
Astaire walked up to the platform, his voice hoarse, his face showing deep weariness and undisguised sorrow.
"Preliminary count...complete. Our army suffered over three hundred casualties, with thirty-two Bronze Warriors seriously wounded, mostly from siege equipment. Silver Lance Knights..."
He paused, then lowered his voice.
"We lost more than half of our troops, and Commander Jeffrey was seriously injured and fell into a coma after the battle."
Lind nodded silently; the number was even more devastating than he had anticipated.
Behind every number is a vibrant life. He took a deep breath, the air thick with the stench of blood, burnt flesh, and decay stinging his lungs.
"Where are the Sas people?"
His voice was low and unreadable.
"About four hundred prisoners were captured, mostly lightly wounded or in logistical positions. The main force of the defending army... was almost entirely wiped out under the city walls and in the final street fighting."
Raymond added that his gaze swept over the prisoners who were being held in close quarters and whose eyes were vacant.
"Clean up the battlefield, treat the wounded, and prioritize our brothers. Keep prisoners under strict guard and verify their identities."
Linde gave the order, his gaze fixed on the shadowy depths of Greenburg beyond the main hall.
"Dispatch reliable elite squads to thoroughly search the castle, especially the cellars, secret chambers, and any places that might harbor cultists or... any traces of those Shadowfiends. Seal any suspicious items immediately and do not touch them!"
"Yes, sir!"
Astaire and Raymond accepted the order in unison.
Linde's gaze finally landed in a corner of the hall, where a pile of tattered armor belonging to fallen soldiers, collected from the battlefield, stood like a silent little mountain.
The bugle call of victory still echoes in our ears, but what permeates Greenburg is the heavy weight of iron and blood, the lament of lost lives, and the enormous, undeniable cost behind the victory of the war.
The air in this newly captured fortress was filled not only with the smoke of gunpowder, but also with an overwhelming sense of sorrow.
Looking at the remaining traces of decay outside the castle, the Shadow Abyss Aggregate had dissipated, but Lind's doubts remained.
Where did these things come from? Why are they in the hands of the Sassins? Do the Sassins still have any?
These questions lingered in Linde's mind one after another.
"Never mind, let's leave it for now."
Anyway, if the sky falls, there will be tall people to hold it up. I'm still considered short... right?
After this battle, it will certainly be difficult to explain to the Earl of Sutherland.
The Silver Lance Knights were severely damaged, and the Sassians' suspected secret weapon is a major problem.
"I wonder if the food in Greenburg was worth it..."
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