Mangled heroes from both sides of the nameless conflict lay scattered in comical disregard. Valiant and dignified death poses embody a fiction found in the epic poems of minstrels and bards; fanciful reflections lacking merit in warfare. Athen briefly wondered if the ghosts of the proud knights haunted the battlefield; staring down at their ridiculous corpses with embarrassment or plotting appropriate punishments for the scavengers ransacking their empty husks. A life of chivalry and honor apparently culminated in the soiling of greaves while lying face down in your comrade's shit. The field reeked of more than just feces, blood, and vomit.