They looked at the corpses, already stripped of their valuables, with hungry eyes. Looking for a good sword, a missed ring or a shiny tooth worth adding to their stash. But every ruler that gains power by conquest is sure to try and do it again. Their eyes slipped from the dead just for a moment to see if the person on the other side of the fire has better boots or a cleaner shirt. Wondering how much it would cost to get them.

“What about Rhana?” - the square one asked.

“What about it?” - his companion answered while he was cutting meat from the dog.

“Do you think the ones that escaped last night would go there?”

“I reckon some of the men will make the march. Foolish and loyal, they’ve got nowhere to go besides a slaughter. They scaped one just to get to the other. But most of them will spend whatever money they have in the first brothel they find and get the hell away from here. No one wants to fight this war, no one wants to kill his brethren.”

“Yet we did.”

“Aye, because we’re kings now and kings do what no one else wants to.”

The sweet stench of rot had already filled the air without any wind to blow it away. Only the campfire’s smoke protected the two men from it. Mist was already falling down over the camp of the dead and only a single light stood where fifty had lit up the forest the night before. But the dead soldiers tied to their posts didn’t mind. They didn’t need light to see.

The two rulers had taken their time to put order in the camp. They had taken the Bozmaroff boy’s tent as their own, stripping the banners. A detailed map of Rhana and the villages around it still lay spread out on a table in the middle. It would remain unused, but it gave a sense of power and status. Rulers had maps. Too bad the ones left had little to say about it. Both of them were already drunk, watering down the meat with ale, paying no attention to their surroundings. And why would they? What man in his right mind would step into that camp when he sees lifeless bodies formed in orderly lines.

But Lesh was no man. He was a god and an angry one at that.

Gods without purpose or direction are easy to be dissuated. But Lesh had only two things on his mind. Killing himself and killing these two bastards before that.

Lesh moved towards the center of the camp, hopping over dead men as if they would say anything if he stepped on them. His ribs still hurting from the kick, his jaw swollen from the fall. Even if he had saved some of the food he wouldn’t be able to chew it. But at least Hope didn’t die hungry, that gave him peace.

It won’t be the chasm for them. No, they deserved a more violent end.