Cleaning the Battlefield

After a brief meeting and a silent greeting, the survivors had no time to dwell on their feelings or sorrow.

A more realistic and brutal task lay before them: to clean up this battlefield that had devoured countless lives.

After a brief discussion between Karl and Laurent, everyone who was still able to move, regardless of their status, threw themselves into this arduous but necessary cleanup work.

The surviving garrison of Carnford, the "North Wind Stud Farm" squad knights brought by Laurent, and even a small number of civilians, mainly women, children and the elderly, who emerged from the castle ruins and hiding places under the organization of Steward Edgar, all suppressed their fear and grief and joined in.

Karl's gaze swept over the bustling crowd, a chill running through him.

A rough estimate suggests that the Carnford garrison and its inhabitants still standing here at this moment number less than five hundred.

This also includes a large number of lightly wounded individuals who are physically injured and have difficulty moving.

Recalling the nearly one thousand garrison soldiers and thousands of civilians in the castle before the war, now only one in ten survives.

Carnford, the territory he had poured his heart and soul into building, was severely damaged and nearly destroyed after this battle.

The cleanup was carried out silently and efficiently, with an almost numb cruelty.

People first painstakingly searched through the mountains of corpses and seas of blood to identify their own wounded. Those who were still breathing were carefully carried to a temporary treatment area, where people with some medical knowledge performed basic bandaging and hemostasis.

Carrying makeshift stretchers, buckets, bandages, and herbs, they carefully followed behind the soldiers on guard, venturing deeper into this battlefield that had just witnessed a bloody battle, searching for and rescuing their own wounded.

Edgar's face was etched with exhaustion, his eyes sunken, yet he still commanded with remarkable efficiency.

With a hoarse voice, he divided the people into several groups, designated areas, and gave them instructions.

These tasks were originally mostly handled by the older and more experienced clerk, Morr.

But the venerable old man, after more than ten days of tireless work coordinating logistics and comforting the people, finally collapsed from exhaustion at his post before the battle ended. He is currently unconscious and has been placed in the castle to recuperate.

All the burdens fell on Edgar's rather thin shoulders.

"Quick! There's another one alive here!"

"Lift it carefully! His leg is broken!"

"Water! Quickly, bring me water!"

The women suppressed their fear and nausea at the bloody scene, while the children gritted their teeth and struggled to lift the stretchers, which were heavier than themselves.

The sounds of crying, groaning, encouragement, and hurried footsteps mingled together.

They painstakingly searched through the cold pile of corpses for every faint sign of life, carrying the wounded who could still be saved back to the makeshift, poorly equipped medical room on the mountain as quickly as possible.

Most of the bodies were already cold. People silently carried them out one by one, gathered them together, and tried their best to tidy up their appearance, even though many of the bodies were already incomplete.

There was no pity whatsoever for the corpses of the Sauron.

The soldiers, and even some of the gritting-teeth civilians, mechanically swung their swords, beheading every Sauron soldier. This was a way to calculate military merits, report the results of the battle to the kingdom, vent hatred, and confirm that the threat had been eliminated.

When they encountered wounded Sauron soldiers who were still alive, their response was without hesitation, only the cold, sharp edge of their blades.

Half a month of brutal fighting had hardened the hearts of the survivors to the point of hardness; mercy to the enemy was cruelty to oneself.

The pervasive stench of blood and the constant sounds of finishing blows made this land resemble a slaughterhouse.

Karl wanted to ask Sir Laurent and his equally exhausted knights to return to the castle ruins to find a place to rest, but Laurent firmly refused.

The composed knight surveyed the horrific scene before him and the dwindling numbers Carnford had left, his voice firm. "Lord Karl, Carnford needs every ounce of strength now. As allies, we must share the hardships and clean up the battlefield; it is our duty."

He turned around and directed his men to disperse to various areas, silently helping with the cleaning and moving. Their efficiency was much higher, greatly speeding up the process.

Seeing this, Karl stopped insisting on being polite.

He himself did not rest at all, dragging his exhausted and aching body to join the cleanup effort.

Like the other soldiers, he silently swung his dagger, severing the heads of Sauron soldier, his movements mechanical and numb.

Warm and cold blood splattered on his hands and face, but he seemed oblivious to the stench, simply repeating this bloody action as if trying to numb the immense trauma and pain of losing his comrades through this almost self-destructive labor.

From sunset to nightfall, firelight and torches became the only source of light.

On this scorched earth shrouded in death, people worked for hours with unwavering determination.

Only when no more relatively intact corpses could be found, only when all the heads had been collected and categorized, only when the final spoils had been roughly counted and gathered, did the group, extremely exhausted and cold, support each other and drag their heavy steps toward Carnford Mountain, which had become a ruin.

Back on the mountain, what greeted their eyes was a scene of carnage not much better than the battlefield below.

Most of the once relatively intact houses have collapsed, and the streets are littered with broken bricks, stones, and charred wood.

No one complained. Driven by their survival instincts, the survivors began to silently reinforce the crumbling walls that could barely provide shelter from the wind and rain, or build the most rudimentary shelters, using the wood and stones they had salvaged from the ruins that were not yet completely burned, as well as some materials they had found in the abandoned Sauron camp.

Without anyone in charge, everything relied on self-awareness and mutual assistance. Faint flames flickered among the ruins, illuminating numb yet resilient faces.

The price of victory is so heavy, and the road ahead is full of unknowns and difficulties.

But at least, on this night when blood was spilled, they were still alive, and they defended their homeland.

This faint spark is the hope for everything to start anew.