Okua was dead.
With their ruler gone, the orcs lost all sense of order and were hunted down like wild beasts by the allied forces.
The troops, worn down by the long campaign, showed no mercy. Every fallen orc was finished off with a spear thrust to the head.
The alliance gathered the bodies of humans and orcs separately.
The orcs’ remains were thrown into pits and burned.
A choking smoke lingered in the air for a long time.
The bodies of the allied soldiers were entrusted to the high priests of the Holy Kingdom.
“We will never forget their sacrifice,” the priest vowed.
He carefully dressed each corpse in a white burial shroud and laid them out in neat rows.
There were so many dead that the ground was covered in white.
The white cloth fluttered in the prairie wind.
The entire force stood in formation.
Yuri stood at the front of the Briol troops, overseeing the funeral.
“The eyes of the gods do not discriminate between high and low. Their faithfulness and bravery have been witnessed by the Lord, and all shall be embraced by His warm hand and guided to paradise.”
Listening to the priest’s words, Yuri looked up at the sky.
The promise that the faithful would be granted paradise and the false punished held no meaning for him.
After all, he himself should have been cast into hell long ago, yet here he stood.
His mourning was simply a burden—he carried more on his shoulders to ensure their deaths were not in vain.
“Let us observe a moment of silence.”
At the priest’s command, the entire allied force bowed their heads.
The sound of the horn echoed through the air.
Once a call to war, it now rang out mournfully, as if comforting the souls of the fallen.
The priest raised his hands and invoked holy magic.
“May the sacred flame carry their bodies away.”
The shrouded corpses were engulfed in white flames and began to burn.
No choking smoke rose, no black ashes scattered.
Like flowers blooming and fading silently, their bodies quietly dispersed under the priest’s blessing.
The funeral was complete.
Yuri glanced back.
Though the war had just ended, the troops had done their best to maintain decorum, dressed in their finest. Some had reddened eyes.
He pulled a piece of paper from his chest.
“Kesman.”
The name of the first to fall.
“Stefan.”
Succumbed to his wounds.
“Pain. Altos. Gate…”
As the names of the fallen Briol soldiers were called out, everyone straightened their backs.
Yuri recorded every name of those who died in battle.
“Imar, Gusendai, James…”
He called each one without missing a single name.
The names of the dead brought tears to the living.
“Dyke.”
At that, Simon and Guiness, standing right in front, darkened. Guiness wept, and Simon wrapped an arm around his shoulder.
Yuri placed his hand gently on Guiness’s head and finished the roll call.
“That is all—our comrades who departed with honor.”
He made no empty promises about meeting again in paradise.
He didn’t believe in such things.
He spoke only from the heart.
“It was an honor to fight alongside you.”
Folding the list, he tucked it back into his chest.
Yuri turned away and watched until the white flames died out, until their remains had fully returned to the earth.
Laurent and Jared stood beside him.
“You’ll see plenty more of this.”
“I’m ready.”
“Can’t be helped.”
Soon, the priest’s holy magic completely consumed the bodies of the fallen allies.
Only a handful of ashes remained where they had lain.
A sudden breeze stirred.
White dust began to drift.
It floated through the air, passing over the raised banner of the allied forces.
The flag was covered in white.
Yuri quietly gazed at the sight.
The journey back was lighter in mood.
There had been losses, but they were the victors.
The allied forces had achieved the greatest victory in history, and generous rewards and honors awaited the veterans.
As supplies resumed, Valshad kept sending food and drink.
Every night, there were celebrations.
“I’ve washed my hands of it now,” declared a gambler soldier from Yuzes, swaying drunkenly.
“I won’t waste money on gambling anymore. When the alliance pays out, I’ll buy land and honestly farm from now on.”
Yuri shook his head.
“A skilled gambler like you, settling for farming? Doesn’t suit you.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Farming? Are you really satisfied with that? How about one last high-stakes card game? Imagine how much that money could grow.”
“Well…”
“You risked your life to earn that money. Now risk it again in a game. Make a bet that will go down in history.”
“Ah…”
“Your fate doesn’t end as a farmer.”
Yuri was coaxing his subordinate out of quitting gambling, like a bad adult teaching a naive kid to smoke.
“Is that so? The prince is right.”
The soldier, shaking his head, opened his eyes wide.
“Farming was a mistake. Ha ha ha, I’m no gambler who stops there. It’s time for the real game.”
“You bastard.”
“If I use my skills and money to sweep the houses back home, I could buy a castle…”
Yuri slapped his cheek.
“Ugh!”
“That was just to test your resolve, you worthless brat!”
The situation flipped.
“Wow, Your Highness?”
“The same guy who used to cry about his gambling debts ruining his family still hasn’t gotten it together?”
“Well…”
“You said you’d only fool around during the war. Once it’s over, you swore you’d fold your cards.”
“That’s true, but…”
“Hey.”
Yuri grabbed both his cheeks.
They’d had fun playing cards together, and Yuri wanted to help him turn his life around.
In his past life as a mercenary, Yuri had seen countless lowlifes.
None of them started out that way. They all had their stories, usually tied to gambling or drugs.
He could tell right away.
This was the classic opening to a drunk debtor’s sob story.
It had to stop here.
“If you go back like this, the old gamblers you ran with will come sniffing around when they hear you’ve got some money. You’ll get played, buried in debt, and watch your family sold off. You’ll drown in debt and guilt, drinking every day, and end up a mercenary on the front lines, risking your life for scraps.”
“Wow, Your Highness…”
“We are Briol, aren’t we?”
Yuri stared into the soldier’s eyes.
“Keep your oath.”
The drunken haze cleared from the soldier’s eyes.
He nodded.
“Understood.”
Then he raised both hands.
“Long live the prince!”
He shouted “Long live!” a few more times before collapsing.
Yuri muttered, deflated.
“What am I doing with a drunk like this…”
He shook his head and sat back down. Around him, countless soldiers lay passed out drunk.
Despite his age, Yuri rarely got drunk.
It seemed the genes of his father, Fiore Briol, even overcame intoxication.
“Your Highness, Your Highness…”
Another soldier approached, clasping his hands together.
Yuri frowned.
“I heard every word you said just now.”
“What’s with you now?”
“I’m truly moved. To think you’d care so much for a lowly soldier like me, sob…”
“Why are you crying?”
“I love you, Your Highness…”
“You bastard…”
Yuri hurriedly pulled him away.
The soldier kept professing his love before collapsing asleep.
It was a mess.
Everywhere he looked, knights and soldiers were drinking and making fools of themselves.
The once-disciplined allied forces had turned into a band of third-rate ruffians now that the war was over.
“Good grief…”
Yuri just laughed.
What could he do? This was the battlefield in the end.
They had fought for so long with their lives on the line. If this was how they relieved their pent-up stress, it was better than nothing.
Yuri took a sip of the beer sitting before him.
It was cold and tasteless.
“Phew…”
As Yuri gazed up at the prairie night sky, a soldier from the empire approached from afar.
“Your Highness.”
“What is it?”
Yuri asked, already guessing the reason.
“The sovereign has summoned you.”
“Understood.”
Since the victory, Yuri had been called to the sovereign’s side every evening. Those favored by Ragna within the alliance shared similar fates.
“Should I bring Master and Laurent along?”
“Yes, that’s right!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll bring them.”
“Thank you.”
Yuri was familiar with the soldier, so communication was quick.
The soldier saluted and turned away, likely heading to Bursen to fetch Jose and Jonathan.
Yuri approached Laurent, who sat alone upright while everyone else had passed out.
“Laurent.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Before Yuri finished, Laurent stood immediately.
“Shall we go?”
“Hm?”
“The sovereign must be waiting.”
“Right…”
“I was preparing in advance so as not to trouble Your Highness.”
Laurent seemed a bit worse for wear.
“No need to go that far…”
“I’ll bring Moyongchan as well.”
“Good…”
Laurent was putting all his effort into perfectly supporting Yuri.
Yuri shook his head. At this rate, he might even have a coffin prepared ahead of time.
Taking Laurent and Moyongchan, Yuri headed to the empire, where several people were already seated at a large table.
Ragna, seated at the head, gestured.
“Welcome, Yuri! And the great Moyongchan and Laurent!”
Thanks to Moyongchan’s impressive feats, his words and mannerisms started catching on within the allied forces. The nickname “Great Hero” followed suit.
When Ragna heard about this, he began calling Moyongchan “Great Hero” himself, as a sign of respect.
“Thank you for the invitation.”
“Hahaha, have a seat, have a seat!”
“Yes, thank you.”
Yuri, who had been glancing around, suddenly furrowed her brow.
Hernando was occupying a table, surrounded by foreign mages. Every time he spoke, they all listened attentively and respectfully.
It seemed he had claimed the top spot among the mages.
“That damn Hernando…”
While she acknowledged his skill as a powerful mage, his overly familiar demeanor made it uncomfortable to watch others treat him with such reverence.
Yuri took a seat in an empty spot nearby.
Ragna was chatting with Moyongchan.
“Great Hero Moyongchan, did you sleep well?”
“Very well, thank you. The beds in the Quon Empire are quite comfortable.”
“That’s good to hear. If the Great Hero is pleased, then so am I! Hahaha!”
Ragna was showering Moyongchan with gifts, trying to win him over.
Of course, Moyongchan accepted them but kept his distance, pretending to struggle with the continental language whenever things got tricky.
Yuri began to doubt just how fluent Moyongchan really was.
“Now then, let’s enjoy ourselves tonight.”
Ragna clapped his hands, clearly in high spirits lately.
Given that he had been somewhat pushed into this situation like a pawn, things had unexpectedly turned out well, bringing him great honor.
“First, I called everyone here because I have an announcement.”
The room quickly filled up.
Commanders from every nation were present.
“The Empire wishes to invite the heroes of this allied force.”
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
Yuri narrowed her eyes, watching Ragna closely.
“First, all the commanders here are invited. If you want to bring anyone along, anyone at all, we will accommodate everyone regardless of numbers.”
Jonathan raised his hand.
“Do we have to leave for the Empire immediately?”
“No, of course not. The war has been long; you’ll want to visit home first. After the victory celebrations, we’ll send out formal invitations.”
“When will that be?”
“Not too long from now. You all know what event the Empire is hosting, right?”
The commanders exchanged glances. Some nodded, others looked puzzled.
Yuri already knew what event Ragna was referring to.
“A swordsmanship tournament. We’ll invite everyone to attend when the event takes place.”