After the battle was over, Agathor did remain at the battlefield long. There had been an agreement among the remaining heroes to meet in a month's time, at Rhair, a town in Kork, to give Hoccer a proper farewell.

He had a long ride back to Aberle. The Qhenha Plains were in the southwest of Oros while Hatalia was in the continent's middle. It was not a short journey.

Travelling with him were all the remaining warriors of Hatalia, Ennia, Lokenia and Brasdonia. This included Gatmore, Berford, Sybil and Lonya. The reason they all travelled together was their destinations were in the same direction. That is to say, to get to Hatalia from the Qhenha Plains one must go through the Kingdom of Ennia and the Republic of Lokenia. The Empire of Brasdonia was even further north than Hatalia.

Their conversations varied, in frequency and subject, by the day. Some days the heroes would talk with eachother and their other comrades, reminiscing about the past and predicting their futures, until the sun gave way to the moon. Other days there would be nothing but a heavy blanket of silence weaved from their losses that seemed to smother any conversation.

And in this manner, with the head of Nathuh stored in a satchel strapped to his steed and the Marezen Sword sheathed by his side, Agathor and the others passed through these realms and numerous cities. And with every settlement reached, more and more comrades peeled off and returned to their homes.

But everywhere they went hosted a grand celebration. Agathor, in particular, was the subject of much praise and adoration. The news of him slaying the Nathuh had spread quickly, he figured.

Accompanying every celebration, however, were hundreds, often thousands, of hopeful faces searching for a loved one. A father, a son, a brother. Some were lucky. Most were not.

The feeling of despair due to losing so many brothers-in-arms to the demons, and the guilt of being praised as a saviour, was difficult to bear. Agathor would try to keep busy by patrolling, training and conversing with his comrades. Though since the final battle, Gatmore did not seem to talk as much.

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Agathor would also often think of his mother, father and sisters, of his desire to see them and tell them that he is safe and well. And of course, he would think of his Marianne.

His Marianne. To the world, she was the beautiful, charming and wise daughter of the King of Hatalia. But to Agathor she was far more. He had loved her since first meeting her by chance over a decade ago in his small provincial hometown.

Upon finding out her royal pedigree, he moved to Aberle and sought to become a knight, to enter the Royal Guard, to be near her, to prove himself worthy. Learning the Hatalian technique as a boy was far from easy. But with perseverance and a bit of luck, he made great progress.

Indeed, it was this motivating force that pushed him to reach the highest of heights. And to think that now their love, which at one point seemed so impossible, could now be realised. No longer would they have to hide and pretend to be no more than strangers when others were around.

Their clandestine affair and hidden utterances of 'I love you' could now be spoken aloud for all of Oros to hear. All thanks to the sword at his waist and the severed head by his side.

It was a few days ago that Agathor and the remaining few thousand Hatalian warriors returned to Aberle with all the pomp and glory that one would expect for saviours of the world. They split off from the remaining contingent of Brasdonian warriors, who continued on north to their homeland.

After entering through the gates at the south of the city, the Hatalians proceeded along the main avenue to the Royal Palace.

The entire city and then some seemed to be out on the streets or on their balconies, cheering and throwing gifts, ribbons, flowers and garters. But as others thought of the riches and honour the King would bestow upon them, Agathor thought of her.

Soon the procession reached the magnificent gates that guarded the Royal Palace. Agathor and the other mounted men dismounted their horses. He kept his sword sheathed by his side, as he rarely, if ever, parted with it, and collected the satchel containing Nathuh's head.

From this point on, the soldiers had to walk. Soon the gates opened, and to the sound of ten thousand drums and horns, Agathor and the others, still equipped with their armours, with the exception of their helmets, stepped inside the palace grounds.