[Cliff, we've taken the Manticore Castle.]
A calm voice echoed in his mind as he sat inside the tent, waiting for Rakahn's signal — in case an emergency came up, one they couldn't handle alone.
At those words, Cliff knew he no longer had to lift a finger.
"They've gotten seriously strong…" he thought.
He rose slowly, let out a light sigh, and pushed aside the tent flap to step out. The air was cold, heavy with the scent of ash and scorched leather. The battle had left its mark, but no alarm rang out. No screams. No chaos. Just the calm after the storm.
Scouts jogged by. Upon seeing him, they slowed down, nodded respectfully, and resumed their pace.
Cliff looked up toward the distant mountains that had once held the enemy stronghold. Now conquered. A wave of intense pride surged through him.
"They actually did it."
