The silence after the battle was a thick, heavy blanket, punctuated by the ragged breathing of my victorious soldiers and the low moans of the few surviving Royal Knights. The floor of the Grey Pass was a ruin of splintered wagons, dead horses, and the twisted, broken bodies of men who had woken that morning secure in their own superiority. The stench of blood and dust was overpowering.
This was the brutal reality of the 'statecraft' and 'military tactics' I had learned. It was not a clean, abstract game played on a map. It was this. The grim task of victory now began.
Our casualties were not insignificant. We had lost seven men—two from Oakhaven, three Ironpeak warriors, and two Ashen archers. Nearly two dozen more were wounded. Each loss was a dagger in the heart of our small communities, a stark reminder of the price of freedom. We established a triage station, and the living were separated from the dead with a somber efficiency.
The spoils, however, were beyond anything I could have imagined. Fifty sets of high-quality plate armor. Fifty master-crafted longswords. Dozens of lances, daggers, and other implements of war. And the horses—nearly twenty of the massive warhorses had survived, a priceless asset that would form the basis of our own heavy cavalry. And, of course, our grain, which we calmly reloaded onto our own Oakhaven Freighters, brought into the pass after the battle was won.
As my men stripped the armor from the fallen knights, Borin dragged two survivors before me. One was a young squire, no older than sixteen, his face a tear-streaked mask of terror. The other was a grizzled, one-armed sergeant, a veteran knight whose cynical eyes held not fear, but a grudging, shocked respect.
"What are your orders, my Lord?" Borin asked, his voice low. The entire Army of the Wastes paused their work to watch, to hear my judgment. This was as important as the battle itself.
I looked at the two prisoners. My mind raced through the options. Execute them as a warning? Hold them for ransom? I dismissed both. Execution was the act of a brute. Ransom was the act of a bandit. I was the leader of a nation. My actions had to be those of a statesman.
"Heal the sergeant's wounds," I commanded. "Give them both water and food. They will be our messengers."
The sergeant looked up at me, surprised. "You would spare us?"
"I am not my father," I said, the words carrying a weight that resonated through the canyon. "I do not kill for sport or for spite. You fought bravely for your King. Your battle is over."
I waited until the sergeant's wounds were bound and both men had drunk their fill. Then I had them brought before me again.
"You will return to the capital," I told them, my voice calm but carrying an authority that was absolute. "You will go to my father, King Theron IV, and you will deliver a message from his son, Castian, Lord of Oakhaven and Leader of the Wastes Confederacy."
I paused, letting my new title hang in the air.
"You will tell him that the people of the wastes are no longer his subjects, and this land is no longer his pantry. You will tell him that the free city of Oakhaven has forged an alliance with the free warriors of Ironpeak and the free riders of the Ashen tribe. You will tell him that any further attempts to impose his will upon us, be it by taxmen or by soldiers, will be met with the same fire and iron that his fifty knights found in this pass today."
I stepped closer, my eyes locking with the sergeant's. "And you will tell him one more thing. You will tell him this was his only warning."
I then ordered them to be stripped of their remaining armor and weapons, leaving them with simple tunics and enough water and hardtack for their journey. "Walk," I commanded. "And do not look back."
The two of them, the terrified boy and the grim veteran, turned and began the long, humiliating trek back east, the sole survivors of a force that had ridden out with such arrogance. They were my message, a living, breathing declaration of our independence.
As they disappeared from view, the system, which had been silent throughout the human carnage, flashed in my mind.
[COVERT QUEST 'THE KING'S TAX' - COMPLETE.][OBJECTIVES MET: Royal forces neutralized. Oakhaven's resources secured.][ANALYSIS: Decisive military victory achieved through superior strategy and combined arms tactics. Political statement successfully delivered.][REWARD: +20 SYSTEM POINTS. Faction-wide morale permanently increased. Your title 'Leader of the Wastes Confederacy' is now formally recognized by the system.]
Twenty System Points. A massive reward. But as I looked at the bodies of my own fallen men being carried gently onto a wagon for their final journey home, the victory felt sober, not triumphant. We had thrown off the shackles of one kingdom, but in doing so, we had declared ourselves a new one. And kingdoms, I knew, must be defended with blood.