Garren was standing with fifty-three knights. Fifty-two were dead. Some were injured badly enough that the number standing would be lower by morning.
He watched them go.
The Valdenmoor knights reformed on the road with the pride that came with almost ending an entire Barony. And to almost do so with just 200 men.
The leader looked back once at Percvale, at the burning houses, the destroyed farmland, the small cluster of surviving knights at the wall, and said something to the man beside him.
"Should we chase them down?" one of his men asked. "Finish it?"
"No," the leader said. "Leave them."
"King Aldric didn't order we finish them" He looked at the smoke still rising. "Let them tell the story of what happened here. That's the point."
He turned his horse and rode.
Garren watched until the they were off the road and the dust was the only evidence they had been there at all.
Then he turned to what was left of his knights.
