Remains of what remains.

I whispered to myself in a sullen mood.

Luckily no one's dead.

Fredericks words cut sharp and clean.

Cruel

How very cruel

I thought.

Pragmatic was more like it.

As much as the words lacked feelings and emotions for his fellow man, they were true and we needed men who spoke in baren truths.

The realm has enough men who talk with golden tongues, who emphatically embezzle with their words.

Cons, liars, and thieves were synonymous with the times.

Honest men are hard to find.

So when they give us the hard truth, we swallow it no matter the size or the struggle to keep it down.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

How many were injured?

I asked.

Running numbers in his head, and after a few moments he said.

Three tanks, one healer and a couple dps will be out with the rest of the raid. Luckily we have replacements. And even more luckily the wounds should be healed after a night's rest at the local inn and town healer.

Looking around, I saw the aftermath of a hard fought battle. Scars and pits riddled the land still bubbling with searing ooze. Our scavenging party had already begun lifting loot from the corpses and harvesting farming materials with deft fingers. Some alchemists in suits of protection were gingerly prodding the ooze with large mechanical geared sticks, extracting what looked like green pearls and placing them into tubes to be analyzed and used later.

For what, I couldn't tell you.

So much of the operation was beyond me.

All I cared for was the battle, the well-being of my men, and the taming of our realm.

From perched on the skull of the Prince I sat.

He hadn't dropped his scythe, which was a shame, but he had dropped some powerful blues and a single epic amulet.

I felt uneasy perched amongst the monster's head. A part of me believed he would rise again, which he would, but given more time, and at that point this skull would disappear into where all creatures wait to be reborn.

Shelly made her way through the party of scavengers, flowing through and in between like a petal within a wave.

Effortless.

She made everything appear so simple.

During the Boss fight her party had been the only ones to come out unscathed. It was as if she could predict the movements of a monster we had never fought, then use that instinct to instruct her party to dodge accordingly.

A Ballad of Butchery played around their party.

One that inspired all those around.

Like a lighthouse in a thunderstorm, her party led the dance to safety.

Walking up she looked at me with eyes that pierced but with a grin that glowed.

We need to talk, she said.

Oh boy, a guild leader loves nothing more than to hear that phrase.

I responded playfully but steeled my heart.

Getting up from the skull of the fallen prince, I prepared for the worst.