Dawn slowly drew back the curtain. Blood stained the earth red, reflecting the great red lantern rising in the east. The air still reeked heavily of blood, as if recounting the brutality of the previous night.
The war had already drawn to a close. Austrian soldiers, in twos and threes, were cleaning up the battlefield, while groups of prisoners were occasionally marched past, proving who the victor of this war truly was.
Grigi ordered, "Dispose of the enemy corpses as quickly as possible. We don't have enough priests in our army to see them all off!"
The summer of 1848 had arrived exceptionally early. Though it was only May, the temperature had already risen to 32°C. To prevent an outbreak of plague, the bodies could only be burned.
Blazing fires began to burn. A group of priests stepped out from among the prisoners and took part in this farewell ceremony, and Grigi did not stop them.
On the European Continent, faith was a subject that could not be avoided. Granting the dead their most basic respect was the fundamental moral integrity expected of nobles.
As they bid farewell to the enemy, the Austrian army also bid farewell to their own comrades. Watching familiar young men be buried in the soil one after another, Grigi's good mood fell silent.
Behind every great general's success lie ten thousand bleached bones. The battle the previous night had gone very smoothly, yet even so, the Austrian army had still paid a painful price.
Nearly an entire regiment had been wiped out. Of the more than eight hundred men who had joined the raiding force, fewer than half had survived, including one hundred wounded.
The casualties had been severe, but the results were equally astonishing: more than three thousand enemy soldiers killed, more than