It was morning, and the march had begun again. The battle was expected to be relatively short, as it was against a village occupied by Vlasire, or that was what the maps said. What the map didn’t reveal was that the town was, in fact, where Augustine had his weapons and armor crafted, and most of the front line soldiers had heavy, narrow sighted, helms on, preventing them from recognizing the town. However, after the initial assault, a few of the men began noticing the familiarity of the area, and stopped. One of the men then removed his helmet and looked at the bodies at his feet. He collapsed when he saw his nephew on the ground, bleeding to death, the last look on his face one of shock. In the back, Captain Sarman saw the Augustine soldiers begin to halt, and the defending forces stop as well. Confused, he then shouted out to his men “Aim for all men on the field, the Augustine men seem to have turned sides.” The slaughter from the nearby hills made short work of all of the forces below, the guilt wracked soldiers, and shocked defenders were too overwhelmed to fight. The Dutchard archers were able to then occupy the village, not knowing the true effects they had caused that day, spelling their doom. Instead, they took over the nearby inn, celebrating the victory, drinking themselves into a stupor.