When Lucas, the King, and Commander Alexander began walking back toward their lines, the valley no longer felt the same.
Before, the air had carried the tension of a battle waiting to explode.
Now it carried heavy atmosphere.
The soldiers of Valerion had seen everything.
From the slopes where their formations stood, thousands of eyes had watched the meeting in the valley. They had seen Ken hold something up in the air. At first the distance had made it difficult to recognize what it was, but the moment the sunlight caught the gold surface, whispers had begun to spread through the ranks like wildfire.
The King's crown.
Every soldier of Valerion knew what it looked like.
Some had seen it during ceremonies in the capital. Others had only seen it from a distance during royal processions. But the crown was a symbol no man in that army could mistake.
And when it appeared in the hands of the enemy, there was only one meaning that could possibly carry.
Valerion had fallen.
