"Then let's go, you can lead me to the base."
Liliana nodded at him. A great deal of steam emanated from her body as she reverted to bird form.
Her pinkish, lilac bird perched on his shoulder, its wonky eyes surveying the area, watching for threats or witnesses.
Ratella cradled the man's bloody remains, blood soaking his clothes and arms, his attention fixed on the corpse's weight and consequence.
Thrusting himself up into the skies overlooking the whole battlefield, a platoon of angels was quickly approaching the site of their battle.
Too late to see anything, but if they delayed their battle any longer, the body count would have increased exceptionally.
A large installation of troops nestled in a charred castle eventually reared its head out of the barren wasteland littered with corpses. Its condition is dire, but it still provides a stable and reliable defensive position for Kathoros.
Thankfully, the castle was mostly intact, the walls charred pitch-black, and a few collapsed sections were being patched with quickly improvised barricades.
However, the surrounding area, which appeared to be a town, had been completely razed.
Gliding downwards, Ratella softly landed outside the gates of the castle so as not to startle anyone by landing directly in their home.
Noises of notching arrows and the drawstring of crossbows filled the surrounding area. His appearance was anything but welcome.
The bloody corpse of Temperance was alarming the men nestled within the walls.
Ratella waited for the men to speak before opening his mouth, lightly tapping upon the gate.
Liliana was at his shoulder, looking rather bored at the soldier's attitude to a visitor.
"Identify yourself!" shouted one of many soldiers, his voice hoarse and a tinge of anxiety laced within.
"I am Ratella Evergarden, fourth Seraphim. This man in my hands is the virtue of Temperance slain in the heat of battle!" declared Ratella. His declaration was met with the soldiers' shocked shouts and the barking of orders.
"Open the gate, no one else has six wings in Kathoros," a stern voice ordered, rousing all the soldiers. The gates soon opened, revealing an expansive castle filled with soldiers armed to the teeth.
Weapons raised and in search of a conflict, pointed towards Ratella's way despite their superior's orders.
Ratella stepped forward into the valley of spears pointed at his neck. The corpse still lay in his hands, on full display to Temperance's former friends.
Their reaction was only natural for a grieving friend, Ratella understood, but he didn't care for it, which slightly annoyed him.
"Lower your spears, I am not your enemy," ordered Ratella, but the soldiers did not listen, only raising them higher in defiance of his words.
Ratella placed Temperance on the floor and stepped back, deciding that his continued holding of their friend was only making the situation worse.
A couple of the soldiers immediately forget all of their hostility, running to their comrade's side, shaking and slapping his deformed face, begging for his survival.
Temperance would obviously not wake with the hundreds of fatal injuries Liliana had inflicted on him, but grief and sorrow blinded their sense of reason.
"No! Serian, you can't die now, think about your son! You're supposed to be one of the strongest virtues, you're not allowed to die!" a belligerent woman exclaimed through laboured breaths and rivers of tears flooding down her face onto the corpse below.
"Serian, we were supposed to get drinks together today. You can't be dead, this isn't you, no, it's just a mistake," said a man in his late thirties, tears dripping from his eyes in spite of his calm tone.
His calm mental demeanour didn't last long before crumbling.
He knew this was Serian, and that realisation crushed his spirit. His face twisted into a putrid state of pure unbridled sorrow, pounding upon Serian's chest, begging for his survival.
"Boy! Where did you find him?"
"In a deserted area of the battlefield, from the air, I spotted a bloody corpse impaled upon several hundred blades. I pried his corpse from the blades, leaving his body in the best state I could manage, but I didn't do a good enough job. I'm truly sorry for your loss. I just couldn't leave an angel displayed in such a horrific manner," said Ratella, lying through his teeth.
Nothing about his statement was true, only poison twisting the narrative surrounding Serian's death.
"How did you know he was the virtue of Temperance?" asked the man, his speculation and suspicion falling upon Ratella.
"His remaining semi-intact wing bears the marking of Temperance, and you don't see many angels with unblemished pure white wings."
The area around the castle's front gate had become crowded with soldiers, all intrigued to see what was going on.
Some wore faces of disgust, terror or blatant indifference in the face of their dead comrade. The trials of war showed some of their behaviour.
"Disperse immediately and return to your positions!" A thunderous voice silenced all the mummers and whispers surrounding Ratella.
The soldiers all complied with the mysterious man's voice, returning to their positions around the castle. The crowd soon faded away, leaving only Ratella and the grief-stricken people clutching Serian's body.
Upon the balcony overlooking the castle stood a man adorned in full plate armour with two radiant white wings affixed to his back.
Silver eyes peered into Ratella's; his eyes looked clear and transparent, appearing to be blind, but he could tell that he was anything but.
The man drifted down to the ground, the metal surrounding his body clanking together.
"Serian Vulcan is hereby pronounced deceased in the field of battle. He will be buried with the rest of the fallen," declared the man, cold indifference oozing from his mouth.
"What! But you can't be sure this is actually him!" shouted the woman, clutching his body, defending it from the assumed commander of the castle.
"This is a mistake! The boy just mistook Serian for a common footsoldier."
"No mere foot soldier meets this kind of end impaled to ribbons. The "boy" was correct, his wings bear the mark of Temperance, meaning the corpse you clutch is indeed Serian."
The two clutching his body released their grip, realising the truth, all light leaving their eyes in the absence of their dear friend. A cold, depressive state is overcoming their once joyful minds.
"This 'Boy' you speak of is not just a boy but one of the four Seraphim. You'll do well to remember that."
The two did not answer their commander, picking up the body and walking off towards the presumed burial site, where rank doesn't play a factor. All being equal in death.
"It's nice to make your acquaintance, Ratella Evergarden. I am Lucian Valentine, by virtue of discipline and commander of this castle."
"It's nice to meet you, too. I wish the circumstances were better, but I'm sure we'll be good friends."
"Come with me, we'll discuss all that needs to be."