For a time, no one moved to break the moment.
The wind continued its steady passage across the stone shelf. The kneeling Marauders remained where they had fallen, massive frames still and subdued.
The Veynar held their positions in a widening ring of spears and shields, the earlier confusion giving way to the disciplined calm of warriors who had just watched an expected meat-grinder dissolve into total submission.
Then Veylara exhaled once, the last of the battle-tension leaving her shoulders, and turned her attention to the practical work that victory always demanded.
"Thauren."
The commander was already moving toward her before the name fully left her mouth. He stopped a respectful distance away, fist pressed to his chest, waiting.
"Secure every giant," Veylara ordered. "Bind the warriors first. Separate the laborers and the non-combatants. I want a full count before sundown…. how many fighting-age males remain, how many females, how many young.
