They returned home as swiftly as they could in order to celebrate their victory. Ares had taken all the supplies the enemy had, with the sacks of rimars they had held within the largest tent, as well as the food stuffs, the tents themselves, and all the other miscellaneous items.

It was late into the second night of their travel that they arrived back home, and though their mood was filled with joy and glee, the mood at home was far more somber and grey.

Ares had marched his soldiers through, heading back to the shrine. He had caught the gazes of many within his village, and soon his own joyful mood had disappeared.

Something was wrong.

He continued to make his way, commanding the First Century to remain at the foot of the shrine path, and then continued alone to the shrine where his Counsel and a few others were gathered.

"Rori, what's going on?" Ares asked as he finally reached the familiar face, his voice a loud whisper.

"Follow." Rori replied as they turned and then made their way to a new tent that hadn't been erected when he had left. Heria and a few other wolffolk were nearby, the other wolffolk keeping a cautious eye on the King as he approached. Their eyes were puffy and red.

Ares stepped inside and was instantly hit by a putrid smell, and then he saw a set of furs over a still body.

"What is that smell?" Ares almost coughed.

"Death."

"Death smells like shit."

Rori then grabbed at the furs and pulled it aside. Ares' froze, the coldness whipping through his body. The body was thick and bloated, but his eyes flashed upwards towards the single ear and then down to the familiar yet strange face.

Inta.

Ares' eyes darted to Rori. "What?" He felt his heart begin to pound wildly within my chest, like a roaring drum. "What?" He repeated once more, losing all the ability to recall other words in the moment.

"We found him dead in the morning, held under a rock within the river."

"What?" Ares repeated once more.

"I believe he did it to preserve his pride."

"What the fuck are you talking about Rori?"

"He killed himself."

Ares began to breathe heavily, though the breath came to him ragged.

"He returned scarred. They had cut off his ears… among other things."

Ares looked up at the tent ceiling. His tongue squirmed within his mouth before pushing against his lower teeth. He clenched his fists and then looked aside as he heard steps behind him.

"The humans took away his honour." Heria said.

Ares dared not look at her and he remained silent. He swallowed, though it was dry and harsh. He fought back the tears.

"I'm sorry." He whimpered out as a tear fell from his left eye. He kept himself facing away from both Rori and Heria. "I'm so sorry."

Heria remained silent for a moment. "You don't have to be. You weren't the one that hurt him."

'I was the one who sent him though.' Ares continued to stare up.

"We heard there were others that died." Rori spoke up after a long while.

"Yes."

"We will begin making the pyre and we will burn them in the morning. Do you have the bodies?"

"I do." Ares replied, still looking away. "I'll hand them over in a moment, can I be left alone?"

Rori and Heria left him. Ares looked down to Inta's face. He bit his lower lip and then shut his eyes tight, letting out a few sobs, though the tears were trapped.

He clenched his fists again and then stabbed his thigh through with a spear, before shifting it away and then turning. He walked out of the tent, the bleeding already gone. He raised a hand and then placed the sixteen bodies of the lost warriors of the First Century on the floor.

"We'll burn them tonight. Bring their families here. Bring the carpenters here. We'll make the pyre above."

It didn't take long to build the pyre, as the carpenters were able to make use of Ares' void magic to create it. The families of the dead First Century had come to mourn them, some shed tears and wailed, and others remained silent and stoic.

The wolffolk that had stayed outside of the tent had been Inta's family, they were his siblings and his mother. Ares had been unable to meet their gaze, though he could feel them against his back.

The bodies were placed on the pyre and then Rori began to speak their last rites. Then those on the corners of the pyre set it ablaze.

Soft steps approached Ares from behind and he felt someone thump against his back, wailing and hollering. Nine and Ten approached, but Ares threw a hand out to stop them.

He dropped to his knees and the flames illuminated the tears on his face. He let out no noise as the wolffolk girl continued to beat against his back. Her mother dragged her away from him, but the pain did not stop.

Rori began a song and those around them joined in. The rest of the Riveans had remained behind, away from the area that Ares had designated for the pyre, but he could hear their voices reach them here.

Ares did not join in the song, he did not know it. He also felt that he did not deserve such a thing. He watched as Inta was taken from him, his eyes lost to the flames. He continued to stare, only brought out of his trance by the sitting form of Lana, who grabbed at his side and pulled him close to her bosom.

"Not tonight, Lana."

"It's already morning." She whispered.

He looked up and saw that dawn was already cresting ahead, welcoming the Riveans to a new day, yet Ares still felt like rigid ice.

"So it is." He looked to the pyre, which had long burnt out.

"Mourning had ended."

"So it has."