Chapter 128: The Fall Of Carles 2
At sunrise, the battlefield was eerily quiet. The once-chaotic town of Carles now stood still, bathed in soft golden light of the first rays of the sun. All the Estalis soldiers had surrendered, their weapons discarded and their hands bound with rough ropes. They knelt in long, weary lines around the ruins of the town hall, their faces hollow with defeat. The air was heavy with the scent of smoldering rubble and damp earth.
Realization hit them hard. They were now prisoners of war. They do not know which one was better, to be dead or to be a prisoner of war.
The seriously wounded Northem soldiers had been carried to the town’s infirmary, where the small building overflowed with patients. Lara worked tirelessly, her hands swift and steady as she tended to the injured. The infirmary buzzed with hushed voices and the occasional groan of pain. Jethru had tried to persuade her to leave, to return home where it was safe, but she refused. Her place was here — there was still work to be done.
The following day, Jethru had convinced her once more to go back with him to Calma, but Lara insisted on staying. She would not have peace of mind until all the injured were treated. Jethru sighed. What a stubborn disciple he has.
Her master eventually gave up and said his goodbye, reminding her to go back to Calma after she was done helping.
Over the next five days, Estalis relinquished their control of the remaining towns in exchange for the freedom of the prisoners, and with that, the war between Estalis and Northem officially ended. Peace, though fragile, settled over the land.
The mayor’s mansion, once a symbol of greed and corruption, was converted into a temporary command center. The prince and his generals took up residence within its stone walls, strategizing for the future.
At the back of the mansion, a large tent was pitched at the periphery of the orchard to serve as an overflow infirmary. The clinics and infirmary in the town were overflowing because of the sheer volume of the injured. Once the patient was deemed no longer critical, they would be transferred to the infirmary tent behind the mayor’s mansion.
One afternoon, Lara made her way to the tent, weaving between the rows of cots and pausing beside Asael’s bed. His color had returned, and when she carefully removed his sutures, she was relieved to see smooth, newly healed skin beneath.