Between the roadway of Dracton to Ferandel,
Vultures circling the sky. The blood puddle reflects the sunlight. Piles of corpses eaten by the undead. It was a Necromancer's paradise. It was the remnants of the war. The bloody Warfield, a place where a new era began.
The sounds of cheering and joy echoed through the whole field shaking the ground which might even shake the heavens.
"Hah! Hah!"
A man panted heavily as he severed the fat man's head using his threshold strength by immense struggle.
The losses he took. The thousands of innocents he had killed. His hard work has finally bear fruits!
In the ground were three men standing side by side. The man in the center man clutched the long hair of the head he had severed. The head of the king, King of Ferandel.
Under their feet were the knights of Ferandel.