The next day… The march started early in the morning by only two thousand men.
Commoner folk in the capital came out on the streets and looked at the passing soldier with fear and trepidation.
The empire had just suffered a loss yet the army was ready and marching. Though all the soldiers were wearing mourning clothes, their ruler was not in the palace grieving over the death of his father but he was standing in the public.
Dressing his armed uniform, he had dismounted on his war horse and guided the army toward the war zone. And beside him, his injured wife whose hand was still bandaged sitting on another war horse, wearing similar armor over her moaning uniform.
She had the cold look of a warrior instead of the benevolent smile of a mother. She met the shoulders of his majesty as they led the soldiers forward.
