The spoils of war piled up like small mountains. Gold and silver, unburnt grain from the enemy's main camp, weapons and armor stripped from captives and corpses—these were the cruel harvest of war.
The wounded soldiers were transported back to the military camp, where they lay in warm tents. Their agony and helplessness were so palpable that anyone who passed by felt a shadow of their pain.
The Medical Masters did their best, but their numbers and skills were limited. In the end, some of the wounded still succumbed to their pain and left this world.
Back in the camp, Henry's gaze was profound as he turned to Edmund, Calvin, and the other nobles. Though their own eyes were filled with exhaustion, they all watched Henry, gathered around him and awaiting his instructions.
Before, they had merely wanted to use Henry's strength to secure their own interests. Now, their submission was genuine.
'As for the emperor, their liege Lord under imperial law? That's a problem for another day.'
