The mood in the other camp, Cantagena, was, understandably, the polar opposite of that in the Adhania camp.
In contrast to the jubilant atmosphere in that camp, here hung the gloomy stench of dejection, helplessness, and the mournful cries for the dead.
Many many brothers, fathers, and friends had died, and those alive were still drowning in their remembrance, some fondly recalling past good times, some lamenting for them for not listening to their advice and choosing to participate in the attack anyway and many howling for their loss, believing that they will never see their loved ones again.
They were not crying because they won’t be able to see them in this life, no.
They were crying because they believed the souls of their loved ones were eternally damned, never to enter Elysium and thus never being able to see them again.
This was because of the brutal ritual sacrifice carried out by the Adhanians right in front of them that they were all forced to bear witness, where they massacred tens of thousands of their brothers to their god Ramuh, meaning they will be eternally bound to Aaru as deathless slaves, forced to toil away till the end of time in indentured servitude.
This was a potent psychological weapon Adhania regularly used to make people fear fighting against them as others believe that losing may lead to perpetual damnation.
Alexander himself was also affected by the scene.
The visceral horror of having to watch twenty to thirty thousand men be brutally hacked to pieces in such a packed space and hear them squeal and shout and moan in pain and agony as they slowly bled out shook him and dug up some unpleasant memories that he had previously tried to repress, memories about the butcher of Acme, which, sadly he was forced to take part in.
Alexander thus decided to stop watching this macabre show and made up his mind to go find Cambyses instead.
On his way to the medical camp, he recalled the initial rumor going on about the casualty estimation.
It said that of the original fifty thousand they started with, forty thousand were dead, wounded, or captured and less than ten thousand remained!
An eighty percent casualty rate!
Such huge casualty rates seemed surreal to Alexander, because usually battles ended with twenty to thirty percent casualty rates, as unit cohesion tended to break down above this point and soldiers just surrendered.
Alexander’s mind floated to compare today’s loss to the Roman’s famous loss at Cannae where the Romans suffered, according to many historians a casualty rate of ninety percent.
But even though Alexander left the top of the valley disgusted at the brutal butchering happening in front of him and was saddened by such a high death toll, he had a weird schadenfreude feeling about this loss and particularly about how they lost.
On one hand, this loss reduced their available soldiers left to escape Adhamia, from twenty thousand to less than ten thousand, less than half of their original numbers.
And the Adhanians bolstered by the win could decide to finish off the stragglers once and for all by attacking their camp in the morning.
These were disadvantages.
But on the other hand, his prophecy could not have come true in any better way. .𝒄𝒐𝒎
He at best thought that the Cantagenans would be again defeated in battle and forced to retreat.
But now, just thinking about how the battle ended made Alexander’s mood be lifted up to cloud nine.
‘Ah the fog, the fog, the fog.’ Alexander hummed a nonsensical tune in his mind praising the fog.
Because even before the battle ended, just when the soldiers atop the hill started seeing the fog rolling in, many people began to claim the fog as the divine wrath foretold and forewarned by Alexander and those that chose to take part in the battle had forsaken the protection of Gaia and were doomed.
And as the battle went from bad to worse, this news of the manifestation of his prediction, fueled by Camius began to spread like wildfire.
Bearing witness to the cold hard evidence unfolding right in front of them, many began to see Alexander in a different light.
While previously his boyish face and young age would have only drawn scorn as a rookie, now it only drew adoration, as soldiers commented that only a person blessed by the divine power could be so young yet so erudite.
And as Alexander made his way toward the medical camp, he could even see a small group form behind him as they inconspicuously tried to tail him, to observe him.
Deciding not to pay attention to this crowd, for now, Alexander brusquely walked passed the scenery and soon burst himself into the hustle and bustle of the medical camp.
Here he was pleasantly surprised to see that the previous chaos outside the camp had largely subsided, making the camp now seem much leaner, cleaner, and more organized.
It seemed the presence of Melodias’s muscle and prioritizing the lesser wounded over the ‘not so hopeful in making a recovery’ soldiers had worked wonders as now the physicians actually had the time to properly diagnose and treat their patients instead of just running about trying to help everyone.
As Alexander was passing through the outer circle of the medical camp, suddenly he saw something amazing.
In the middle of the camp, there was an enormous roaring fire going, and atop it sat a huge earthen pot with water boiling inside its belly.
Around it were slaves and soldiers, all working furiously washing, peeling, cutting, squeezing, and filtering beetroot juices and then dumping it all into the boiling pot.
Two strong slaves kept constantly stirring the water and mixing the juices and from to time, someone would take huge jugs of the sweet water out to feed the patients.
Alexander squinted to see the shadow of a person who appeared to be the leader, screaming orders, listening to orders, and wildly gesturing to others to hurry it up.
The shadow rapidly gave away to an unmistakable silhouette, short, sweating, and red with exhaustion- Mean.
Seeing how busy the girl was, Alexander decided not to run up to her and have a chat.
Instead, he shouted from afar, “Mean, you know where the mistress is? It’s urgent.”
Listening to the all too familiar voice ring her ears, Mean felt a huge rush of pleasure and relief.
She had heard by now of the disastrous defeat they again suffered just now and also knew that Alexander and most of the mercenaries in her group didn’t participate in the attack, only Nestoras and a few mad lads did, but still, it was one thing to hear a person you care about being safe and it’s a whole different story seeing that person safe.
“Alexander! Thank goodness you stopped us.” Mean ran over, glee overflowing out of her face.
“*Sigh*, if only our leader had listened. ” Meeting the girl, Alexander heavily sighed, shaking his head in apparent lamentation.
Although internally he was ecstatic.
Yes, Nestoras dying did complicate matters a bit regarding his emancipation, but still, the rich rewards he got and stood to gain, many times offset such minor inconveniences.
But Mean was not aware and even did not care about such intricacies. She simply paid her respects to the dead, “Yeah, let Gaia embrace him into Elysium.”
This put Alexander in an awkward position.
Because it seemed that Mean was unaware of the ritual sacrifice going on some distance in front of her or else she would not have said such words.
Maybe because the ceremony was still ongoing so the news had not reached here yet or maybe she was among the only few left unaware, but it was widely considered by everyone in the group, including Alexander that Nestoras and everyone else had been captured.
This was because it was believed till now that the entire Cantagenan army had been surrounded and captured, with only Damiou’s two thousand soldiers dying and three thousand returning to camp.
No other credible report of additional soldiers returning to camp had yet been verified.
But instead of letting Mean in on such details, Alexander decided to whitewash it a little.
He said in a heavy voice, letting out a sigh “I heard they fought to the last man, hahhhh.”
“Mean, we need a little help over here.” A strong, robust voice suddenly cut through the melancholic atmosphere, urging Mean to return to her duties.
Both turned to look back at the man frantically waving at her and Mean instantly blurted, “I saw mistress inside the main tent. I gotta go.”
“Wait, please bring me a few sleepknot leaves and some limestone.” Alexander suddenly remembered the two crucial ingredients.
“Oh, here, there should be some.” Mean readily handed him a leather pouch tied to her hips, seeing no need to ask for any further questions or details as the things asked by Alexander were very common. and then without saying, rapidly turned and accelerated towards the waving man.
Sleepknot leaves were common medicines used to help insomnia and limestones were used as a disinfectant.
It was no formaldehyde but it was the best Alexander got.
Thus, acquiring the fourth and final piece of the puzzle, Alexander tied the pouch to his hips and made his way inside the medical tent.
It was time to prepare the present for Aristotle