With a sigh, Eric returned to his grisly task, hauling Gorin's body as carefully as possible towards the centre of the encampment where a large pyre was being formed, using the remains of the base to create a bed of timber upon which to lay their fallen companions. Laying Gorin's ma.s.sive body gently upon the pyre, Eric surveyed the fallen. Many of the faces were those he recognized, having watched them fight in the tournament only the day before.

Griffin, Mark, Rob, Soren Gunnarson, Gorin Greatarm, Turk, Aria, Mikasa, Zwei, Tamira, Alexnir, all of them lay motionless on the pyre, alongside more than two dozen of the scouts. Even now, bodies were still being hauled over to the pyre and laid down to rest.

Off to the side, Alistair's surviving lieutenant was arguing with the captain.

"Are you sure we should be laying the otherworlders alongside our fallen? They're just going to disappear and resurrect anyways. Why should we bother sending their spirits to the G.o.ds?"

"Without the otherworlders, we would all be dead. Despite the fact that they can ressurect, they all fought with honour and valour alongside us. Even if it's only temporary, we should treat them as equals and send their spirits to the G.o.ds alongside our fallen brothers and sisters," Alistair explained, his tone brooking no further discussion.

Falling silent, the lieutenant watched as the final scout was placed upon the pyre, bringing the total dead up to seventy-two.

"It's time," Alistair said gravely.

Walking forward, Alistair looked at the remaining twenty-two members of the platoon. Not a single one remained unharmed, with various severe injuries visible on even the least wounded of the survivors. The atmosphere was gloomy, as scouts and militia alike stared at the faces of those who'd fought and laughed alongside them only an hour before.

"Soldiers of Crowsea platoon, raise your heads," Alistair said, his deep voice permeating the surrounding air.

Slowly, the surviving fighters began to stir, looking up and taking in the scene of their captain, standing b.l.o.o.d.y, but unbowed in front of them.

"We've won the battle, and yet you're all acting as if we stand defeated. Would your brothers and sisters in arms be proud of you for the way you're acting now? Would they, who willingly gave their lives to protect what is right, think any the less of you for surviving this h.e.l.lish battle?" Alistair demanded, his voice echoing throughout the empty compound. "No! So raise your heads! Stand proud, brave soldiers of Crowsea. For when the bards tell our tale, you need to be able to remember this moment, when the heroes of Crowsea Platoon stood against the combined might of half a thousand goblins, and emerged unbowed! Soldiers of Crowsea, do not bring dishonour to our platoon, but instead act with honour as we remember those who have given their lives so that Nova.n.a.lba may be safe!" Alistair roared.

As one, the gathered soldiers roared back, their voices mingling in the air as they cheered for their victory, letting out the rage and adrenaline of the past hour of fighting.

Seeing this, Alistair looked on solemnly.

"Now, to those who sacrificed themselves. Let us send them off not with heads hung low, but with voices raised, as they go to join the G.o.ds in their great halls. Let us commend their spirits to Arawm, and Maser, and any other G.o.d willing to accept these brave soldiers. For though they have perished, their spirits shall live on inside of us."

With that, Alistair fell silent, nodding to his lieutenant who stepped forward with a grave look. Igniting a torch he held in his hand, he touched the flames to the edge of the pyre, stepping back to watch as the fire spread through the wood, enveloping the bodies of the fallen.

Heads raised, the surviving members of Crowsea Platoon looked on silently, their heads raised as they watched their comrades disappear into smoke and ash. As the flames consumed their bodies, tears began to roll down the cheeks of the soldiers, looking resolutely forward as they gave their fellows the respect they were due.

As the flames burned, Alistair gazed forth, a song coming to his lips unbidden.

"Long is the road, untravelled.

That was taken from you today.

And long is the path untaken.

Before this debt can be repaid

I cannot give you promises

I cannot give you gold

All I can do, is stand beside

And ensure your tale is told

So stand, you soldiers of Crowsea

Stand proud, stand strong!

For our fellows who have fallen

The bards shall sing your song

As Alistair finished the verse, he began it anew. One by one, new voices joined the captain's and soon all of Crowsea Platoon was in song, their heads held high as they sent off their fellow soldiers.

At last, Alistair fell silent, watching as the soldiers sang one last verse before going silent once more.

"It's time to return. Lieutenant Coalsen, please ensure this base is burned to the ground. It's burned remains will remain as a memorial for our fallen allies. Crowsea Platoon, move out!"

Following Alistair, the remaining members began to leave the ruined base, watching as Alistair's lieutenant cast Flaming Spheres at any untouched section of the base, causing new columns of smoke to rise into the air, where they mingled with the smoke from the funeral pyre before dispersing into the winds high above.

As they left the base, a gloomy atmosphere seemed to settle over the platoon. Seeing this, Alistair quirked his lips, turning to address the troops.

"We've lost too many mages to make use of the teleportation circle. It's an eight hour march back to Vindammer, so we'd better hurry. We don't want to be caught in Lichfrost Forest after darkness falls."

This elicited groans from the soldiers, slumping forwards as they antic.i.p.ated the long march back to the closest outpost of civilization.

"However, we made contingency plans just in case of this eventuality. The new gathering point is the much nearer, Tonbura village. Also, the support unit should be waiting for us just over that ridge with wagons and healers, if their last communication is to be believed," said Alistair with an uncharacteristic coy smile.

This got cheers from the soldiers as they accelerated their pace, aiming to reach the top of the ridge that they'd stormed down from only an hour before. Cresting the top of the hill, the platoon gave each other confused looks. The area was empty, with only a collection of trees staring back at them from beyond the ridge.

Raising his arm, Alistair held his militia badge aloft, watching silently as the emblem of House Crowsea filled the air high above the ridge. As the emblem glittered in the air, violet strands of mana could be seen pulsing within, causing the symbol to shine brilliantly as it hovered overhead. With a grinding sound, a piece of forest seemed to pull away from the trees, as several horse-drawn wagons appeared out of nowhere, causing a strange shimmer in the air as they separated from the trees.

Eric let out a sigh of relief as he watched the wagons approach, the horses hooves clopping gently against the dirt of the path. As the wagons pulled up, a woman jumped off the front of the lead wagon.

"You're in a sorry state, Alistair," she said, observing the remnants of Crowsea Platoon with a critical eye.

"There were more goblins that we expected. It's good to see you, Mara," Alistair replied.

Mara nodded, her gaze softening, "We have healers and rations ready in the wagons. Jump on board and we can set off for the rally point at Tonbura."

With that, Alistair led the exhausted militia to the wagons. The surviving scouts jumped in the two lead wagons, while Owin and the remaining militia were packed into the next two wagons. Several wagons were left empty, occupied only by the support crew and the driver as Alistair had hoped for a best case scenario where the platoon could fill every wagon.

With one last sad look at the column of smoke rising gently into the misty air behind them, Alistair gave the order to depart, setting the wagons back on the path towards Tonbura.