The rest of the journey was rather quiet.
The wind carried the scent of damp earth and crushed grass, remnants of the battlefield trailing behind them like a ghost's breath. Wagons rolled steadily along the dirt path, laden with supplies, salvaged materials, and the wounded. Most of the injured had stabilized thanks to emergency healing spells, but the silence among them was heavy.
There were no victory songs.
Just exhaustion.
Julian walked near the middle of the convoy, between the servant wagons and the wagons carrying supplies. He didn't speak. Just observe quietly, his mind still lingering on his first and most previous battle.
He would notice a few probing glances from time to time, but he paid them no mind. It was obvious some of the soldiers or servants would be curious of him after seeing him, a mere servant, fearlessly fighting the turtle.
