The conflict dragged on, Rathborne's valiant soldiers were culled like weeds by the superior forces commanded by Cavalish and Baron Glorfile, but every death now came with a great amount of risk.
As long as Rathborne could still swing his mace and hold his shield and more importantly lived morale would never waver. His soldiers would die with honour, willingly sacrifice themselves for an opportunity to take out even a limb of their enemies.
The single death amongst the neutral nobles and Prince Sedrick's forces slowly climbed to three and the serious injuries doubled, desperate gambits in their final hours, moves that couldn't be fully blocked unless one of the A-ranks made a move personally.
Rathborne witnessed all of this transpire but was powerless to do another about it. His death and the deaths of all of soldiers was inevitable, all that was needed was time, time that was soon approaching.
Squelch!
