The setting sun hung in the west, and the red flag waved atop a gallant horse.
For a fleeting moment, the battlefield fell into an eerie silence, as if all the fighting had paused simultaneously. Muskets ceased firing, swords stopped clashing, and even the musicians were at a loss, leaving their drums and horns untouched.
But that eerie silence lasted only a moment, as earth-shattering cheers drowned everything out the next instant.
From the south bank to the north bank, from the fields to the valleys, from Tamas drenched in blood at the front to the Monkey on the reserve line who had yet to truly enter the battle, every Iron Peak County veteran shouted fervently.
They shouted for victory, shouted the Blood of the Wolf, and shouted the high-pitched war cry that humanity had used long before the dawn of language and civilization.
