Chapter 157: A Turning Tide

14 July, 1360. Eberelle County, Northern Islia

The roar of the battlefield slowly, slowly started to die down as those men who hadn't fallen or fled, gradually lowered their weapons. Eventually, an eerie quiet descended on the vast, muddy plain.

His ears ringing painfully, William yanked off his helmet and one of his gauntlets. With his ungloved hand, he desperately swiped at his eyes. His vision was blurred ever since the blood that had spurted from the neck of a Moraigthian he'd slain, had sprayed across his helmet and even into the grille that covered his eyes.

A loud, feral sounding roar erupted a short distance away. William turned to find Prince James, helmet in hand, surveying the landscape covered in fallen men, to gauge the new position of the Islian army. In the distance, they could both see the retreating Moraigthian forces moving back into the relative safety of the Arandar Valley.