"Gwen, we held them off."
Several soldiers lay sprawled on the ground, filthy and exhausted, without even the strength to move. Yet smiles still appeared on their faces.
Leaning on her longsword, Gwen stood atop the castle walls and looked down.
The three grand dukes' allied army had retreated, leaving behind a field of corpses and a fortress riddled with damage.
Which attack was this month had it been? The seventh? The tenth?
Gwen could no longer remember.
Numbly directing her men to treat the wounded and gather supplies, Gwen felt her heart gradually sink.
"Big Sister Gwen, are we going to stay here forever?"
Gwen turned around and looked down at the boy standing before her.
Over the past six months, he had grown a little, but he had become shorter.
Grisha shifted his crutch. His left trouser leg hung empty, while his right foot made a crisp sound whenever it touched the ground.
That had been left behind during an allied assault four months ago. That time, the allied army had even breached the outer wall. The Resistance Army had defended the castle to the death until nightfall, then retaken the outer district under cover of darkness.
Grisha had shot down three enemies with his bow, only for the fourth to catch up to him. With one slash, he had lost a portion of his body.
Gwen had bandaged his wound and made him a wooden prosthetic. Grisha loved it, but Gwen's heart ached for him.
Gwen tried to squat down, but she had stood on the wall for too long today, and all strength had left her legs. She simply collapsed onto the ground.
The young woman did not care. She was covered in dust and dried blood; it was hard to say whether she or the