The village of Turnipton was quiet in the early morning hours. Smoke from the night's bonfires hung in the air, mixing with the scents of earth and fresh dew. After the victory, the villagers had stayed up celebrating, and now they were scattered across the village green, fast asleep in various states of exhaustion. The battle had left them weary, but the satisfaction of victory lingered in their peaceful expressions.
Marcus strolled through the village, taking in the remnants of the night's celebrations. Villagers had tied colorful ribbons around tree branches, hung garlands from the tavern's porch, and even scattered flower petals along the main road. The peacefulness contrasted sharply with the chaos of the battle, and Marcus found himself appreciating the small acts of joy that had emerged from the hard-won triumph.
