Chapter 23: Training Theobald
The dim glow of the moon bathed the encampment where the corpses of numerous corrupted creatures as well as soldiers could be seen littering the ground. The burnt tent and the scattered campfire could be seen as well, releasing white fumes into the dark night.
Further away from the encampment, the remaining crew members could be seen chanting words of prayer as they prepared to bury their comrades that had lost their lives protecting the king.
They all had solemn expressions but none were as sorrowful as the king who could not hold back the tears dripping from his eyes. Theobald and Osborne stood beside him, silently observing the corpses.
Constantly, Theobald clenched his fist and gritted his teeth with rage — the corpse of his comrades laid before him, each slaughtered in the most inhumane manners that made them revolting to even look at.
It pained the captain that he had failed to protect his men once again. He felt even more ashamed of himself, recalling just how frightened he was in front of a single cultist.
How could he fight a large group of them when he cowered in the presence of a single one of them? The question repeated in his mind, tormenting him.
Alister stood at the back of the soldiers, calmly observing the funeral. He did a quick headcount and realized there were only eight of them left, including himself. The number had fallen so much.
CACKLE!
The cackling sound of the flames consuming the bodies drifted across, accompanied by a gentle breeze that blew dust around. The silent cries of the soldiers could also be heard.