Wounded And Going Home.
Night.
Forest.
Critic-Ishire.
**************
As the last of the captives was freed, a commotion nearby drew Blanc's attention. He turned to see a group of Theodore's men emerging from the trees, their faces set in grim determination. Among them was Sir Conan, his sword stained with the blood of fallen foes.
"Blanc!" Conan called, his voice cutting through the din of the battle. "We need to move. More of those disgusting thieves are coming."
Blanc nodded, his expression resolute. "These men are ready to go," he replied, motioning to the freed captives. "But they are weak. We will need to support them."
"A lot of us would need support but we are moving ahead anyway, whoever can pick something, should help in loading the cart" Theodore spoke and they found temporal energy, adrenaline coursing through them to move ahead.