[ WP ] The hero was killed , the princess was sacrificed , and the evil king rules the land . For the average citizen , though , things have taken a turn for the better .

War ate at the Marshlands like a beast gnawing at prey. The bones of the land had been cracked open, the marrow sucked out and the lifeblood ran dry. Corpses lay facedown in the fens, turning the peat a colour of oxblood; rich and dark when lit. The rivers polluted by bodies; peeling strips of skin and flesh sloughing from bones was a sight common in the watery mid-lands. 
 
 
 
 At the Crannock-field, Miron Lion Prince lay the same as every other dead man. The crows ate at his eyes and peeled the stinking flesh from his lips. His skull grinned inanely at the blue sky, while barrow flowers began to sprout over his corpse. No other flowers left for him; his grave no tomb but a forgotten marsh, his burnished silver plate rusted in the mud. Dew pooled on the lion embossing. 
 
 
 
 Lacey crossed the Crannock-field in high boots, dragging a wheeled cart behind him. It bumped over the uneven ground, splashing bilge water up over the bundles of weapon and armour that lay in it. Lacey picked up another helmet with calloused fingers. He'd managed to stop practising archery every morning now that the fighting had stopped. He examined it for bumps and, pleased with its condition, flung it into the cart. 
 
 
 
 Enough armour, and he'd take it to Harry the Smith in exchange for permission to court his daughter, Matilda. She had long, blonde hair and freckles in July, eyes as blue as meadow-flowers. Even the dead princess Caraway had not been so beautiful. Lacey stopped by a corpse and picked up the sword that lay beside it. Golden and gleaming, it had retained its edge despite the weeks in marsh water. 
 
 
 
 Another man might have known it as Yarrow Bane, the legendary sword that had lost the battle at Crannock-field. Lacey held it and for a moment entertained an image of himself, mounted on a white horse, at the head of an army. The sword told him he could be mighty. But the fighting was done, and Matilda's blue eyes were bright as the sky. Lacey dropped the sword in the cart, and continued his way across the field of death.
