In the open camp, clusters of bonfires were burning.
The Kurdish Cavalry sat relaxed on the ground, replenishing their water and food, with some occasionally boasting about how many enemies they killed during the day.
This time, each of them had gained considerably.
If it were in a feudal country, each of them could have bought an estate in their hometown and become estate owners.
But unfortunately, Kurds are a nomadic tribe.
An individual, even if wealthy, cannot survive.
They must stick together for warmth.
Losa sat on the sandy ground covered with a woolen carpet, holding a clay pot with meat soup, sipping it slowly.
"I wonder if the news of Kokb's death has spread? And whether we'll be attacked by Safudin and his Mamluks on our way back?"
Mamluks refer to slave soldiers, similar to the centuries-old "Gulam," but more elite.
The King has the King's Mamluks, and the Governor has the Governor's Mamluks.
