The battlefield stilled momentarily, as the two kings locked eyes in mutual acknowledgment. In this silent exchange, they both recognized a kindred spirit—a warrior willing to sacrifice all for the sake of their people. Though Ragnar had tainted the battlefield with his cowardice, the fallen lay now as witnesses to the valor and tenacity of true leaders.
King Kevin Os adjusted his grip on his sword, his gaze unwavering. The scorching desert wind whipped around them, carrying the smell of blood and sand, but he stood resolute, channeling strength from his fallen soldiers and those who still stood. His armor gleamed beneath the blazing sun, and his presence was like a beacon for his men, a figure of unyielding strength amid the chaos.
