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Valhayle sent the cloth used to wipe the princess’s wound to be burned instead of washed.
Every material was scarce right now but the princess was a royal heir. He couldn’t allow her noble blood to be washed away with other filth—even if her life-or-death was unknown.
He grew skeptical now of his groundless belief that at least one of the royal heirs would be alive.
With what reason did I think that?
Zelle darted towards the human Zelleine who laid motionless on the bed.
She aimed straight for the neck.
Her beak pierced through the thin skin.
She could taste the bitterness of the blood.
“Sir, I’ve brought them.”
Sir Luke came in with a group of women.
Valhayle saw their terrified faces and suppressed his anger.
Most of the women that were captured with the 8th Princess were maids that worked for the nobles of the Central region. So some of them could have a husband, brother, or son serving in the Roheneim army.
It was dusk.
The knight commanders were gathered in Valhayle’s tent. Despite it being late, everyone’s eyes were bright.
The squire poured drinks in everyone’s glasses.
Having a drink together was a form of celebration often carried out after a successful battle. If the whole army took part in this mission, then the whole army would have a drink.