Defeat

He turned his horse around and looked toward the main infantry position of Carnford.

The next priority would be taking Tyrol Fortress. After this battle, he was filled with confidence that he could conquer it.

The setting sun was like blood, dyeing the vast battlefield a dark red.

The smell of gunpowder still lingered in the air, mingling with the heavy stench of blood and making people sick.

The battle was essentially over. Only sporadic sounds of fighting remained, as Carnford's scouts and infantry methodically cleared the battlefield, putting the severely wounded Sauron soldiers out of their misery and collecting useful spoils.

Surrounded by a small number of personal guards, Karl rode across this land that had just endured a brutal battle and arrived before Lyon, who was directing the cleanup.

The warhorse's hooves sank into the blood-soaked mud with wet, squelching sounds.

When Lyon saw Karl approach, he immediately rode forward and saluted from horseback. Though fatigue showed on his face, his eyes were bright and his voice steady as he reported, "My lord, we've completed an initial tally of our gains and losses."

"In this battle, we killed approximately four to five hundred cavalrymen from Sauron's Horse Corps, and seized more than three hundred riderless or lightly wounded warhorses. More than one hundred and twenty of our men were killed or so badly wounded that they lost their combat ability. The lightly wounded are being counted separately."

Karl listened to the report as his gaze swept across the battlefield.

In the distance, their scouts were still riding along the edge of the battlefield, finishing off Sauron's wounded soldiers who tried to crawl away with arrows or saber strikes. This was a brutal convention of the Northern Battlefield, and no one could fault them for it.

He nodded slightly,