And the High King fell.
Not to a blade, but to divine judgment! He screamed and fell off his horse, breaking his neck and cutting his agony short.
People cheered around Farini: the reserve soldiers, the wounded brought to this safe place, medics tending for them, ballista men and their helpers—all of them.
"Bring me my horse!" Farini commanded. "I can't stay behind anymore. I shall join the front line!"
"This very moment, my lord!" a servant said, hurrying to bring Farini his horse.
Ahead, soldiers were already retreating. With many of their officers still not recovered from the attack by divine guardians, their retreat was disorganized. They opened their backs to being cut down.
"Don't chase the fleeing ones! Let those who wish it surrender!" Farini ordered as he rode downhill, knowing that Whisper would carry his words ahead. "These people are mired in unbelief, but this can change if they stay alive!"
