Milon's clothes fit you decently well.
Finally changing out of the bloody nightclothes you've been stuck in for a few days felt heavenly.
The man's wardrobe was extensive enough for you to pick and choose which items you wanted. You chose a simple but well-crafted tunic and a pair of riding pants.
Milon was even able to lend you a pair of expensive, high-quality boots under the condition you return them once you get a new pair. They were the wrong size, but through stuffing a few pieces of cotton, you were able to lessen this effect. Regardless, it's still significantly better then nothing.
You now walk through the camp, checking on various personnel, making sure your troops are ready to march.
The men are still high off of their victory and in excellent spirits.
You wonder how long that will last, once the monotony of the march sets back in.
You've given the order to pack. The tents and pavilions of your army camps are taken down. The wounded are carried by stretcher to wagons. The rest of the men without horses will be, once again, marching on foot.
You walk out of the camp and up to the road. You turn around to survey the camp from higher ground.
Obren steps into line beside you. He surveys the camp for a moment before speaking up. "Marshal, any estimate for when we're gonna be back on the road?"
You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the journey ahead.
"Within the hour."
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