“Nobles aren’t the only ones who find it uncouth to leave a place messy after you’re done with your business there. Most would even say that these days, soldiers and mercenaries are even more fussy about cleaning up properly.

After all, nobles leaving a mess usually just results in some bastards or offended sensibilities, not in plagues.” - Anonymous clerk from the Mercenary’s Guild, circa 573 VA.

It was always a somber affair to clean up after a battle. The idea of having to haul the dead around, some of which might have been a friend you talked to just the previous day, was something that often weighed down on people. That the vast majority of the dead would be given nothing better than a mass grave far from home further treads on the hearts of the survivors who had to bury them.

That was the fate that awaited those who lost their lives in a battle. Either a mass grave, or to be burned in a massive pyre. Either approach helped with curbing the chances of a plague or an epidemic from arising due to the dead bodies rotting out in the open. Which approach one adopted generally depends on the resources the people in question had available.

Back at Theodinaz, the people in the fort were much fewer than the amount of corpses strewn all over, and many of them were injured to boot. Under such circumstances it was simply easier to burn the dead in one massive pyre, the dead bodies themselves fueling the fire as it devoured the corpses and turned them to ashes.

In contrast, there were far more living people compared to the dead amongst the Coalition and Imperial army. Because of that, they could afford to assign thousands of soldiers to dig up graves for the deceased and interred the corpses beneath the soil. Most of the dead from the battle was buried that way, with only a select few, namely those who had enough status to not be buried in a mass grave, escaping such a fate.

The bodies of officers high enough up the ranks as well as the nobility were typically preserved in some manner to keep it presentable, to be sent home for a more respectful burial in their hometowns at a later date. Of course, those accounted for only a minority, so the extra expenses were something considered understandable and expected.

As mercenaries, the Free Lances did the same for their own dead, since most of their members tend to originate from the lower end of the social status scale to begin with. Every member of the company had a will that they kept updated each time the company was deployed for a new mission, and their next of kin – if those were also part of the company’s support staff or tagged along – would receive some compensation as well for their loss.

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Of course, the monetary compensation would not make up for the grief and loss they had to deal with, but it would at least alleviate their worries for the future to an extent, as the company was particularly generous with their compensation. Something that was a tradition started by the first generation captain of the company since he had started up the Free Lances with a group of close friends back in the day.

Those who had no next of kin in the company around typically asked in their wills for some personal item of theirs to be delivered to their families at the company’s convenience, at times with the other assets they personally possessed as well. Others who had no family whatsoever or had bad relations with their existing family at times asked for more outlandish stuff, ranging from treating the rest of the company to drinks on the next available chance using what money they left behind to passing it down to their favorite prostitute or bar, amongst others.

There was naturally an exception, however, in Salicia’s case. For one she still counted as some sort of nobility given her family’s high status in Levain, and she was also officially the one in command of the two archer platoons, even if each had their own platoon leader and she was usually out hunting on her own instead.

Those factors combined meant that her body received care instead of being placed in a mass grave the company dug for their dead. Her belongings were similarly left in the care of the one who would inherit them all in the eventuality of her passing, namely Grünhildr, who had been together with her for practically all her life.

Grünhildr herself was inconsolable and practically stayed in the tent the two used to share, keeping watch over Salicia’s body on her lonesome. She had only allowed Elfriede – who had been a friend of the two since before Reinhardt knew them – to visit, with the latter later reporting to Reinhardt that Grünhildr would need some time alone and that they shouldn’t bother her in her grief.

Fortunately the company had light duties for the rest of the week anyway since they did not have much to do with the enemies gone.

Salicia’s loss itself was a bit of a headache to Reinhardt, partly because of the missing capability she represented, and partly because he did consider her a friend, something he extended to only a few people. He was not one to get attached to people to begin with, and the mercenary life further reinforced that side of his.

If he could call anything a silver lining, it was how the company’s operations itself was relatively unaffected, since while Salicia was the commander of all the archers, the actual commanding had mostly been Alva and Branka’s job. As such, it was a simple matter of carrying on as usual for the archer platoons in that regard, which did make for one less headache.

Reinhardt was more worried about Grünhildr, and especially about the burly woman’s mental state. He knew that the two were as close as people could get, and that such a loss could break people. He had seen it happen to others in the past, and could only hope that his long time friend and compatriot was made of sterner stuff and would be able to overcome her grief, given some time.

After all, he and the company would still need her in the battles to come.