Fifth Osterian Army Headquarters February 1731 City of Cir, Province of Ciresia, Osterian Empire.
Lt. Gen. Wendell Otto breathes out a sigh. His hand over his face as the messenger leaves through the tent, hand over his face as he mutters, "We lost in every possible way."
Otto raises his hand. "Hand me some papers. I'll need to inform his highness of our failure." He stands up. "Tell all fronts to retreat to Fort Arog."
"Sir?" an officer asks beside him, worry written all over his face. "Will you be alright?"
"Leave!" Otto shouts as the men scatter from his tent. The battle coming unto its end as he gives out another exasperated sigh, "This is most likely the last time I'll ever be given command."
He glares at the map before him. "My enemies at home will end my career for this. But if the Empire is ever to continue existing, that demon must be taken care of."
He looks at the paper in his hand, his hand gripping his pen. "His highness must understand the gravity of the situation. And if it means I'll die with this dishonor."
He closes his eyes as he whispers, "I need to do what must be done."
The horns of surrender explode all around him, as messages arrive and orders of full retreat have been given, the battle coming to a close.
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Keller looks on in anger, the battle before him ending in a stupendous display of power, his eyes following its jagged form tearing through the field. A stunning sight.
The dust around the field then settles, to reveal the horrendous sight of Drissian cavalry tearing through his infantry, each one desperately running for their life.
The Osterian cavalry were now ripped to shreds.
He sighs, with casualties estimated to be in the tens of thousands along with the thousands of crysms left looted. It was a complete and utter disaster.
His only relief would be his uncle's foresight, washing him off from responsibility.
"What a fucking disaster." He mutters as the horns erupt from headquarters, a sign and the only way for his uncle demand a full retreat.
He turns his horse to the side. "Take your men! Head back to camp. We'll be joining in with the others. The battle is done."
An officer rides to his side. "But, sir! The infantry are still engaged!"
"The Drissian cavalry will retreat soon enough. They got what they want. They won't overstay their welcome and take unnecessary losses." He huffs, "They don't know what's happening on our side."
He turns his horse back, unable to see the fist that struck against his cheek as he fell to the side. Falk screaming at his face, "You bastard! What did you do!?"
The men around them flinch at the sight, weapons at the ready against Falk, who was bristling as he grabs Keller off of the ground, screaming to his face. "How could you! You sacrificed Scholz! You sacrificed thousands of infantry! You sacrifice almost everyone yet you fucking failed!"
Keller glares back, his cheek bruised as he spat back. "Let me go this instant, colonel. I will give you that shot, anymore than this and I'll have you trialled."
Falk's eyes bulge in anger, only for all his rage to fade. "Apologies, General, but it seems this is where our relationship ends."
A small smile on his face. "Please allow me to be reassigned."
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Meyer peeks through the trenches as the dust settles just enough for him to see the battlefield before him, one filled with retreating Osterians and rampaging cavalry.
"Holy shit! Someone give me a spyglass, I need to see this!" He shouts, a soldier running to his side as he takes it to his eyes, his eye surveying the field as he mutters, "What the hell happened?"
Messengers atop the hill then runs to his side, messages in their hands as they spoke. "Sir! Messages from Colonel Forst! Have your men secure the defensive line. The battle is over!"
Meyer curls into a smile as the surrounding men cheer with excitement. The men raising their muskets as the Drissian cavalry takes care of whatever is left.
He then glances behind him to see Schneider unconscious and bruised. Meyer slapping him in his face as he shouts, "It's over!"
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Damien holds his head up, pain ripping through his body as coughs. "What happened?" He looks around to see a familiar tent, a smirk coming over him as he moves. "Hello? Is there anyone there?"
A Drissian soldier then bursts through the tent, saluting to him. "General, you're awake! The battle is over, the Osterians are retreating!"
Damien nods, "I see, where's Colonel Hall?"
The soldier then stiffens, "The Colonel is in the tent beside yours. He is recovering from his injuries."
Damien raises an eyebrow at the response, his hand over his coat as he readies to leave. "I see. How severe are his injuries? And how big are our casualties?"
The soldier freezes his expression. "They will give The Colonel an honorary dismissal. Half of his men died from battle and the others are injured. About a thousand men died."
Damien stops moving. His eyes harden as he spoke, "I see. What happened after I fell unconscious? Are the men pursuing them? Is there any word from the high command?"
Damien then coughs, blood spilling to his hand as Dutko opens the tent, dismissing the soldier out of hand, his face bearing grave new as he spoke. "You should be resting, general."
Damien raises an eyebrow, "I think I know my body more than you, Lieutenant."
Dutko replies, unfazed. "I am aware, but there is nothing much you can do, General. Colonel Forst has already sent orders to pack up."
"Pack up? Pack up for what? Are we supposed to pursue them? Or are the Osterians regrouping back to initiate a counterattack." mutters Damien.
He hold his chin in thought, his mind consumed in thought until Dutko spoke, cutting through his thoughts. "Nothing of the sort, General. But a ceasefire has been ordered from Verdin."
"What?" Damien just looks at him, "They're already discussing peace?"