The battle was over. The fields outside Westmont were littered with the bodies of mercenaries, broken weapons, and the smoldering remains of the enemy's failed conquest.
Damien stood among the wreckage, the weight of the battle pressing against his shoulders, but his heart remained steady.
They had won.
Lord Raegon had been defeated, his forces scattered, and now, his humiliating escape would weaken his hold over Velthorne. His reputation as an unbeatable warlord had been shattered by Damien and the forces of Westmont.
But Damien knew it wasn't over. Not truly.
Lord Ellian turned to his soldiers, his expression grim.
"We've won this battle, but we must not forget the cost," he said, his voice firm. "Gather our fallen brothers. We will bury them with honor."
The warriors of Westmont nodded solemnly, stepping forward to begin the grim task of retrieving the bodies of their comrades.
However, when it came to dealing with Raegon's fallen forces, Lord Ellian's gaze hardened.
