"VICTORY!" "HOOOOO!" "YAAAAH!"
The halfling's yelled and partied as they danced around the fire pit. Their belligerent voices echoed through the dead silent camp, as their act of pinning Barnabeth to the ground to buy Larg time to slay his sworn enemy, surely will give them a hefty bonus.
Smiling from ear to ear as they drank the wine from the local orchard of Numberg.
Their joyful and happy atmosphere, in sharp contrast to that of the men of Zalbaag. The men sat around the camp, in a daze. Tired, and pained, some of their family, friends, relatives, and even acquaintances are now gone. Those injured but were able to survive, either crippled or on their last breath.
Their fallen now among those buried on the mass grave just outside the settlement.
A few vomited, as they thought of the moments when the enchanted bolt landed among their formation. The dismembered bodies of those who stood beside them. The horrible and terrifying memories on the battlefield.
The cruelty of the mercenary men-at-arms. The screams and wails that until now still echoes in their ears.
The horror of this war brought unimaginable harm to the men. Both physically and mentally, as their morale, which should've been high due to their victory now visibly low at the staggering number of casualties they sustained.
From 1,800 men to less than 900 men…
Looking over the field where both armies faced off. Now all that remains are the corpses of their foes, as crows and vultures partake in the feast of flesh and blood.
___________________________________________________
*Heavy Breathing*
Larg sat at the center of the camp, as a refugee from Lotr reach his camp. "Repeat what you just told me…"
"My Lord, Ser Alex held off thousands of goblins alone. As lord Orlando, assisted those who were left in the castle to escape…" The refuge did not want to continue, however were forced to go on by the scorching stare of the new Baron of Zalbaag. "Lord Orlando and Knight Alex, perished in the Castle… a servant of the castle rushed back as soon as he the flame in the castle was gone."
*Crack*
"DAMN IT!" The large table in the center of the camp was flipped over. As raging bronze film began to envelop Larg.
Pure undulating anger now emits from Larg.
What a mockery does fate have for him. His brother is missing, his relatives all but gone, and now the castle which is his trophy has been burned to the ground.
What's worse, his father is slain at Lotr, and Alex, which should have sworn fealty to him as he rode to Lotr Castle, died defending his father.
What's the point of his war with Barnabeth, if the prize of this war is just a broken castle.
Yes, Barnabeth the bastard is dead. His soldiers and mercenaries routed the moment his great sword pierced Barnabeth's chest.
But his victory came at a heavy cost, the casualties reached in the thousand.
Such number of casualties will affect the military, economic and agricultural sector of Zalbaag for generations.
And… what's more his force conscription of Gascon already made him disliked by the locals of the mining village.
Lotar which joined Barnabeth's side would definitely resist him and his rule… after all their village men still littered among the dead outside the village.
Only Numberg remained neutral throughout the whole war.
Two villages dislike him and another neutral towards him, while his castle burned to the ground while the goblins wreaked havoc around Zalbaag.
He also has debt to pay, his wealthy friends now his creditors, and the mercenary company, which he owed awaits the rest of their pay.
Larg fist clenched as his mind goes through various possible solutions.
Shaking his head. Larg finally decided to lead the men towards Lotr or what remains of it.
The castle and some treasures inside it may have been burned but some difficult to melt treasures and coins, still probably remain.
Paying his creditors and the mercenaries will be to the best of his interests. As for the other matters… he will take care of it as time passes on. For now, sending the mercenary company away, and silencing his creditors, will ensure that his image as the Lord of Zalbaag is kept.
No one likes a poor Lord, especially a castle less one which usurped his brother's title, in spite of his said brother's heritage.
Taking a deep a breath to calm down. Now Larg turned to the man who have reported to him.
"Go inform the guard outside to notify the soldiers that by day break we march for Lotr."
"As you wish, my lord." The man bowed, as he left Larg alone in the tent.
Sitting on a wooden chair, Larg, now contemplates his future.
Without the populace support, and the backing of his father and Alex, all that left is to him is a barony which he couldn't control.
He needs to remedy the situation immediately.
________________________________________
Numberg
Camp of the Company of Mas
"Cheers!" "Yeahhh!" The mercenary hired by Larg partied till their all drunk.
As a drunk halfling left the rest, planning to head for a nearby tree to piss.
His shaky figure bumped in to a female carrying cloth and herbs towards one of the tents.
"Watch it!" The halfling yelled as he turned towards the female, perhaps failing to recognize the negative implications of his actions, the halfling took a dagger from the side of his body as he pointed it at the female villager.
"Please! I beg you, forgive me!" The female was shocked by the half man's action. She dropped the basket she was carrying. As a dagger was now pointed at her by the fierce looking halfling, her legs began to tremble before it soon gave in as she abruptly dropped to the ground.
The passing locals, who were originally watching the scene, tried to intervene.
But as the halfling is unable to think coherently due to his inebriate state. He interpreted the locals' approach as a sign of them attempting to gang up on him.
In fear that he'll be overwhelmed, he waved his dagger as he went on threatening the humans.
"You! Peasants should be grateful we ended this war. HAHAHA if not, who knows what, the eldest son will do to you."
The locals livid at the audacity of the half man.
One of the young men who is related to the female on the ground. Picked up a pebble, pulling his arm back just before he threw the peble with all his might directly at the half man.
The halfling who had been slurred and unfocused was hit.
His head now bleeds, as the point of the pebble caused his forehead to break open.
Touching his head and realizing what just happened. The halfling hissed and charged directly toward the crowd. Attacking those close to him, as he began going after the running crowd.
Waving his dagger around the crowd, raging as he demanded. "Who did it?!? Who threw that!?!"
The village folk scram and the women screamed at the sight.
"Murder!" "Murder!"
A body lay on the ground as a bystander watching the commotion was unknowingly stabbed a couple of times.
Eventually, footsteps rushed in from various directions, as the men of the village gathered.
Seeing the perpetrator, the men jumped the halfling and began beating him. High-pitched screams and cries echoed as the halfling began begging for the men to stop.
As other of the drunk halflings, who took a bathroom break in a nearby foliage, began heading back to their camp, began to hear wailing and begging. At first, they thought it was just a local thief caught by the locals, but soon they recognized their kins voice.
Rushing to the source of the sounds. The half lings saw one of their own being beaten brutally by the inhabitants of the area.
Without hesitation, some of the half lings ran for their camp, as the rest tried to help their ganged up kin to safety.
The small scuffle soon turned to a clash as the mercenaries appeared equipped with their armaments, and the local garrison with their own.
Screams and wails soon followed as the locals were overpowered by the experienced halflings.
Such a disturbance alerted Larg. As he got nearer the scene and saw what is taking place. His face turned ugly…
The stares of the locals were hostile. As they see him, the "master" of the half lings, who took these hired killers in to their village. Allowing them to wreak havoc on their small village.
From neutral to hostile, now Larg can be considered as a landless Lord. For his entire populace does not welcome him, wherever he goes in Zalbaag.
"Tsk. Gather the men and supplies, after that, we leave for Lotr!" Seeing the increasingly dangerous gaze, Larg, was forced to take a step back. Instructing one of his guard to disregard his former order of leaving at day break.
It isn't that he is afraid of the Numberg doing something, it's the fact that as the Lord of Zalbaag if he condemned Numberg to the torch or if he did something to incite the populace's ire anymore.
He fears that his action will spread and the rest of the settlements will see him as someone who sells his people to foreign powers.
Such a public image will destroy what remains of his already crumbling reputation.