"Move the bodies out. Send the Goblin corpses to the Hill of Britain, and bury the human dead in the public cemetery."
With the battle over, the Round Table Army began clearing the battlefield. Some put out fires, while others collected the dead. Since Goblin corpses turned into earth after death, the bodies were placed on the Hill of Britain outside Londinium. It had originally been a plain, but it had now become a mountain.
Humans were different; they needed to be buried. Britain had originally had no such custom, after all, this was a world dominated by Goblins. However, Morgan had still passed down knowledge from Pan-Human History.
"The casualties were far too severe. Children and adults alike... sigh."
Fewer than one in ten had survived the post-battle count. That was only because they had returned quickly enough to save them; otherwise, the casualties would have been even worse. Still, it was understandable. The Round Table Army had never expected betrayal from their own comrades, and they had been caught completely off guard. On top of that, the enemy had prepared in advance, hiding huge amounts of explosives and barrels of oil inside Londinium's buildings. It would have been strange if the losses had not been devastating. Half of Londinium's buildings had been consumed by fire.
Moreover, this was already the best possible outcome Gareth had achieved through desperate fighting. Otherwise, all of Londinium might have been swallowed by flames. Gareth had risked her life to stop the largest stockpiles of explosives and oil, and in doing so, she had saved some of the children as well.
"Artoria." Outside the war room, Castor tightly held Gareth, whose body had already begun turning to wood. The grief on her face left everyone around her at a complete loss for words.