Although Itamar had never been on a battlefield, that did not mean he had never read military books. Every record showed that before the War of the Sixth Coalition, almost no army could withstand thirty percent casualties.
Chutkalai was no coward, either. He refused to believe that the joke of a battle they had just fought could have left two thousand dead and wounded. He wanted to see what tricks Itamar could pull.
So the two men brought their officers and guards back to the front lines. No matter how they looked at it, the scene before them didn't resemble the aftermath of a great battle. It looked more like wild boars had come down from the mountains.
Beyond a section of toppled fence, bodies of Hungarian soldiers lay scattered here and there in the vegetable garden. Somehow, the corpses lying atop the crops looked strangely harmonious, almost exactly like the lazy serfs depicted in their textbooks.
The smell of soil and vegetables also masked the stench of blood and gunpowder, so much so that Itamar really did think the men before him were just a bunch of slacking soldiers.
He strode over the fallen fence, walked up to a downed soldier, and kicked him hard before saying with an unconcerned expression,
"I know you're not dead. Stop pretending! There isn't even any blood on the ground!"
But the soldier didn't move. Looking somewhat annoyed, Itamar kicked him hard in the backside several more times.
"Get up, you lazy lout! If you're a Hungarian man, then get up!"
Yet the fallen soldier remained motionless. Chutkalai felt the same way. The sun was shining, birds were singing and flowers were blooming. At the very least, there shouldn't have been flocks of chirping birds near a battlefield, should there?
So Chutkalai stepped