Men cried their support. They were winning. War was a concept unheard of in Ørkady. Few men had heard the sword song. Few men had seen men bleed from the savage blows of a sword. Now, they were winning. They were sending the hated enemy to their graves. Crægaric would rue the day he sent his men to a foolish death. Perhaps they would raid into Åscator itself and put their kingdom to the sword. Victory was certain and the men of Ørkady were riding high. Pride filled their hearts as they slaughtered the enemy.