An Olive Branch, 1655

[LithiumSedai 5750]

"It would be wise of them to back down," said Aran Talraen to his maid, setting aside his twentieth Confederate trophy sword. "Have they learned nothing from recent history? These Confederates will be purged just as those who took up arms against Renatus and Marna in the Third Crusade. It is clear whose side GOD favors... and who wields the superior army." 

 

- - - - -

 

"Does there need to be another Elba for this madness to stop? How many sons of Haense need to fall to pointless carnage - again?" wondered Sigmund Alstreim, an old veteran, shuddering at the memories of the cursed forest; tightly clutching his beloved wife's hand as he glanced towards the great cross on the hill, a memorial to his fallen comrades.

 

- - - - -

 

Renna Talraen prowled about the walls of Markev, feasting on Renatian and Confederate corpses alike. Many more of the latter kind, the Seneschal-turned-Morghuul mused for a brief moment, then turning to chew through a Haensetian militiaman's arm.

[Hook 79]

Artwinkle sits in his study, sipping on a mug of tea, contemplating the events of the battle.

 

"I do hope these fighting men and women would avoid dying on my roof, in the future. Won't be long before those old planks give out and they fall through, landing right on my lap. That's no good... Plus, the bloodstains are getting difficult to scrub out."

 

Such was the downfall of living outside the walls of a city at war.