For hours, Pacha's hand had grasped his axe and his eyes had been focused towards his enemies, towards the east. However, there was no more strength in either. Even though the southerners had already disappeared across the hills and begun their march back home, the hero king still couldn't pull his eyes away from the leftovers of the little wall that had held them off for so long.

“King Pachacutec.” All this time, his attendant had quietly stayed by his side, but now he had decided to interrupt.

“What?” the king barked back. Just as he spoke, careful steps in the snow informed him of the arrival of a second servant, but he was still unhappy.

“What do you want?” he asked the newcomer who had come from across the hill. “Speak.”

“This servant is here to report, King Pachacutec. The battlefield has been cleaned up,” the servant said with a respectful bow. “The dead and injured have been dealt with. The men are well-fed and have also rested for a good while.”

“Truly!?” At once, the king's expression returned to life as his face shot over to his surprised attendant. As he realized his overreaction, Pacha coughed to hide the awkward moment. “This king was lost in thought and did not notice the passage of time. Tell the men to get ready at once! As soon as we have regrouped the army, we are chasing after the southerners! If we move right away, we will still be able to catch them before they reach the border. We do not even need strive for victory. So long as we can slow them down, my uncle will soon arrive with reinforcements, and then we will still have a crucial advantage in numbers.”

After another bow, the servant turned to leave again.

“Don't worry, Corco. This war is long from over.” The king's eyes narrowed as he once again looked at the eastern night sky in the distance. At the end of the battle, the retreat of the southerners had been too fast and too organized. Chasing after them without any intelligence or order of their own would have only cost Pacha countless men, especially after they had already been on the march or in fights for an entire day.

However, now his warriors were rested enough for one final push, or so Pacha thought. His men needed proper sleep rather than just a bit of rest, that much the king knew. But sleep was a luxury they had to go without for a while. Once Pacha had won his war, they could rest as much as they wanted, in this life or the next.

Thoughts of the future reminded Pacha of something important that had slipped his mind in his apathy.

“Wait one moment!” he called back the servant. “have we properly searched the battlefield?”

“Searched, King? Most of our men are accounted for, so an extensive search effort will not be necessary.”

“No, not for men! For weapons,” the disgruntled king shouted while his eyes scanned the darkened hill. How could his servants have this little sense? “You put together a team and collect every single firearm left on the battlefield. Even Corco's worthless commoners could put up such stiff resistance with the help of these weapons, imagine what we could do if we were to copy them?”

Of course, ranged weapons would always be considered less honorable by the majority of warriors, except for the few strange archers who were always considered outsiders within the warrior community. However, the king had decided to oppose destiny and didn't have time to consider their feelings. Whatever he could use to strengthen his chances, he would wring it out to the last, tradition be damned.

“Of course, King Pachacutec. This servant will obey.”

Once the warrior had left again to do his duties, Pacha aimed to cross the hill for the first time since the end of the battle. All this time, he had remained rooted on the spot, Corco's final, cocky grin burned into his memories. He had felt inadequate again, like a loser.

Now however, it was time to move again. There was no time to feel sorry for himself; he still had a chance to win the war. As soon as he made the decision, Pacha's steps carried him towards the camp his men had erected. Since he was the only lord with any sense in this army, he would go to the warriors himself, and he would personally help with their reorganization. If they only started to rebuild their army structure once they were on the march, they would be far less efficient in their next big engagement against Corco. That couldn't happen, at any cost.

“Servant number one, tell me about our losses, and about those of the southerners.” Without turning his head, the king knew that his attendant had kept pace with him. After all, he hadn't left the king's side all this time, even when he had just stood still by himself.

After the servant acknowledged the command, he began to list from memory.

“Our preliminary numbers have been counted and they appear quite severe. We have lost around four thousand nine hundred men overall.”

“What does that mean, 'overall'? How could it be this many?” Pacha's eyes went large in panic. When he had been in the thick of battle, the war had felt quite even. Had they been at this much of a disadvantage?

“The numbers include the dead skirmishers.”

“Why would you include the commoners?” Pacha raged. He had almost had a heart attack at the thought that he might have lost a sixth of his army in his reckless charge up the hill. “Who cares about the commoners? We have an infinite supply of those back at home. Only tell me about the real losses.”

“Yes, King Pachacutec.” If the attendant cared about the lives of the mortals, he didn't show any of his concern in his cold voice.

“The commoners make up a bit over two thousand of our total casualties. The rest are warriors with some level of cultivation. As such, a total of two thousand and eight hundred of our warriors are either dead, or injured too heavily to contribute in the upcoming battle. The losses on the enemy side are a bit harder to count since they took a good few of their injured with them when they retreated. However, if the dead and dying are any indication, they would have lost around two thousand men as well, maybe slightly less. Since their retreat was so abrupt, they had to leave behind the more heavily injured men, so we ended up taking them in. So far, they are held apart from our injured and will serve as prisoners. We have also captured southern warriors on the battlefield, but only a handful, seven to be precise. We expect that a few of ours have also gotten into the hands of the southerners in the chaos of the battlefield.”

“We will arrange a mutual exchange once the war is over. For now, keep them away from any valuable information and make sure they do not starve to death. Oh, and let the doctors see to their injured. With the backwards nature of the south, there is no chance they have received appropriate medical attention before. We cannot have them die like this, they are valuable assets during negotiations.”

By now, Pacha had regained his peace of mind. With the servant's explanation, he understood that their losses were a lot less severe than he had first feared. Overall, they hadn't lost even close to one in ten men, and Corco himself had also suffered quite a bit.

Of course, it was all relative. Not only were Pacha's total losses greater than Corco's, he had also lost exclusively warriors. Most of the south's dead and injured were simple commoners who had been armed with modern weapons, easy to replace and quick to train up. In comparison, training a good warrior for combat would take a lifetime, so every warrior who fell would mean a permanent loss for his army. It was just another reason why he had decided to focus his efforts on Corco's new weapons.

Once the king and his attendant had crested the hill and passed the leftovers of the snow wall, Pacha could see the temporary camp of mostly tents his men had erected on top of Corco's abandoned outpost. The southerners had left on short notice, so a lot of useful materials had remained for them to cannibalize.

When they entered the camp, there was a reverence in the air that felt strange to him. His warriors had always bowed when they saw their king, but now they did so much deeper than before. Maybe his actions during battle had made them see the light and they recognized his greatness. Pacha however didn't care. He had work to do.

As soon as he arrived at the command tent, he received more detailed information on their losses, so he could begin the restructuring efforts. He appointed new officers to rebuild the crumbling command and intelligence structures and recombined the troops that had received the heaviest losses to bring them back to full strength. All throughout his efforts, the warriors were proactive and willing in their execution. It was as if they could finally see the hero king he had always been.

Although many had called him by that title before, he understood that most of them had only paid lip-service. Behind his back, they would consider him an unripe brat, or even a loser after he had been defeated by Corco. Now that war was upon them, his subordinates could finally see Pacha's effort, his brilliance in battle and his competence in the command tent. Strength would always bend the knees of lesser men.

As he worked and communicated with his subordinates, he also understood that his men saw the last battle by no means as a defeat. After all, they had caused heavy losses to an army that had previously appeared invincible and they had forced the southerners to flee back home like beaten dogs. Even though he might not be able to fulfill his original goal and wipe out Corco's army – even less take over the entire southern kingdom – that goal had only ever been his. After the southerners had invaded the north, most lords and their warriors had only hoped to remove the southern invaders from their lands. In that sense, the battle had been a resounding success.

Still, for the hero king, this much was hardly enough. Just as he was bent over a map to determine the best route to catch up to Corco's troops and force one final, decisive engagement, a familiar face entered his command tent.

“Official Uroa d'Ichilia greets King Pachacutec.” Although he hadn't known the man's name before, he was one of his uncle's envoys who had come to visit him before his big battle against Corco. After the previous official had been so disrespectful during their last meeting, it appeared his uncle Divitius had drawn the right conclusions and replaced his chief negotiator.

“Speak, where is my uncle's army? How long until he can join up with us?” Since he was in a rush, Pacha didn't have time to waste on pleasantries, so he looked back down at the map to continue his work. Without information on his uncle's movements, he couldn't plan their next attack. After the servant hadn't answered for several seconds, an impatient Pacha looked back up again and stared into the envoy's awkward face.

“What is it? Speak, servant!”

Although he flinched back from the king's power, the servant breathed out to calm himself and then described his plight in a trembling voice.

“Lord Ichilia will not be able to join King Pachacutec in battle.”

“What!?” Pacha threw the maps to the side and rushed over to grasp the servant by his robes. The hapless envoy didn't even try to resist as he shook like leaves in an autumn storm. “What does that mean!? Has my uncle decided to go back on his word!? Does he intend to betray me!?” “No, nothing of the sort!” the servant's head shook like a rattle drum. He would know his fate if he had come to inform King Pacha of another betrayal, so he spoke as quickly as he could. “Lord Ichilia had every intention to aid King Pachacutec. However, not long after King sent his request for reinforcements, two lords of the central kingdom betrayed our cause and declared their allegiance to King Amautu of the northern kingdom. Since Lord Ichilia has always held close ties with these estates, he has been forced to redirect his armies north to prevent the hostile invasion from the northern forces.”

Pacha no longer raged, and weakened his grip on the servant.

“Who? Which lords betrayed us this time?” he growled in a low voice

“Lords Instea and Gratidia.”

This time, he didn't explode. Instead, Pacha walked around the room and brooded over the development. The territories of two lords were positioned upstream from Huaylas, along the southern bank of the Argu river. If Amautu controlled even just one of these estates, he would control an entire section of the river and gained the ability to interrupt all trade between Arguna and Huaylas. No wonder his uncle was panicked.

As for the 'close relations' the servant mentioned? Pacha could only sneer. The two lords had always been on the periphery of House Ichilia's sphere of influence and had been no doubt eager to break free from the harsh control of Huaylas. Although he should be happy that House Ichilia's power in his kingdom was weakened, he realized what this meant for his own campaign. As he thought back to that disgusting grin, Pacha's blood began to boil once more.

“Useless bastards! Every last one!”

He wasn't sure if the northern attack was the result of a deliberate cooperation between Corco and Amautu or if his second brother had just been opportunistic, but now all of his plans were ruined. With endless resentment, the hero king stared at the maps strewn on the ground. No matter how much he wished otherwise, he wouldn't be able to prevent the retreat of the strengthened southern troops. Without his uncle to support him, the war was over, whether he wanted or not.