“For all the ceremonial pomp and values often attributed to duels, it is very rare for them to directly solve a conflict, unless you’re a tribal orc from the North, that is.” - Saying attributed to the Silver Maiden.
To his credit, the Imperial champion still fought back undeterred using the two halves of his broken glaive, though now that he lost his range advantage, Cazor of Kolitschei was pushing his advantage more and more. The larger, burlier Kolitscheian champion was clearly stronger, and his shield gave him a decisive advantage in a close-quarters battle.
His opponent lacked the force to properly fight him off in his preferred environment, and he never stopped meddling with the Imperial champion’s footing either. He had not used his magic constantly, but instead did so intermittently in random intervals to keep his opponent guessing all the time. Combined with his superior physicality, he quickly pressed the advantage to its natural conclusion.
Using his shield he pushed away his opponent’s bladed half of a glaive, and his axe came swinging down viciously. The Imperial champion was unable to block the blow using only the remaining piece of wooden shaft in his other hand, and his attempt to block was simply blown through as the axe bit deep into his shoulder, the blade slipping in between two pieces of armor plates and deep into his flesh.
Having driven his opponent to his knees, Cazor then swatted away the bladed half of the glaive in the Imperial champion’s other hand, then severed his head from his shoulders with an accurate swing of the axe. He raised the decapitated head by the helm with his shield arm and held it high even as the blood from the severed neck dripped onto him and gave a loud roar of victory.
All the while, Reinhardt could see some signs of murmurs amongst the enemies arrayed before them. Not much, more along the lines of the soldiers discussing the fight and their champion’s loss, most likely. They showed little sign of worry or the like so Reinhardt guessed that the champion sent out today was probably just to test the waters instead of someone with any actual status amongst the opposing army.
If the champion won, all was good and morale would rise, as it showed that even a no-name from their ranks could defeat the enemy’s champion. If he lost, then he was a no-name anyway, so they never held much expectations for him in the first place.
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After the spectacle, Cazor walked back towards the coalition army’s lines, leaving the dead body of his opponent lying down where he fell. From the opposing side, two soldiers could be seen walking out towards where the battle took place. The soldiers collected the dead Imperial champion’s corpse and dragged it back towards their lines.
The coalition army allowed them to do so. There was no reason to disrespect the dead in this case anyway.
“Well done, nephew,” said old Duke Orsla Banitu to Cazor as the Kolitscheian champion walked by him and the other leaders.
“Just glad I didn’t disappoint you, Uncle, Sir,” replied the younger man with a respectful bow. Cazor knew that the old Duke’s choosing him as their representative was a show of favor and a chance for him to show his mettle before the other leaders. Such an opportunity was no different than paving the road for his future, as long as he proved capable of grasping it.
And he did just that.
“I guess we’ll go back to good old war now that the show’s over,” commented Nestor with a nod to the old Duke and his distant nephew. “You can stay, young man. If your uncle wishes to prepare you for a greater future I have nothing against that. I think all of us do that with our successors anyway, often far more blatantly, even.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” replied Cazor with another bow. He then looked around with some curiosity. Most of the assembled leaders were either leaders from Kolitschei, Algenverr – Miriam had gone to the south with Andrea Uthgwes of Dvergarder –, or from the dwarven contingent. Reinhardt’s little family was the exception though part of the reason they were there was their close connection to Angus Harscape and Reinhardt’s eyepiece artifact which allowed him to convey very convenient real-time updates on the battle situation as needed.
“Don’t bother looking for mine!” said Nestor with an amused chortle. “I’m not like your old uncle. My oldest possible heir just turned five this year!”
“They’re starting to advance,” said Reinhardt suddenly which cut off the conversation as everyone else turned their eyes – and spyglasses – back towards the enemy army arrayed before them. Sure enough, not a minute after Reinhardt’s proclamation, the front lines of the enemy infantry started advancing in orderly formation.
“Saw them starting to form lines neatly from above,” he added as an explanation on how he noticed the enemies advance before they started moving. “Pretty obvious tell that they’re readying up to move, especially given the scale.”
“Do keep us informed if you spot anything else out of place, Captain Edelstein,” said Griselda with a grateful tone from beside Nestor. Nestor himself was busy passing orders to his officers to the troops to match the enemy’s advance. At the moment, he mobilized mostly troops from Algenverr and Kolitschei, keeping the dwarves as a reserve force that could be utilized either for offense or defense as needed.
He had long noticed that the enemy’s cavalry remained unmoving by the flanks of the Imperial main force, and that a large part of the soldiers that were moving in their direction wore a hodgepodge of equipment that were definitely salvaged from the defeated forces of Gestis and Wanarua. In other words, the enemy was also still keeping their best out of the battle, so he saw no reason to not do the same.
In such a battle, it was rarely the best idea to reveal one’s trump cards ahead of time, after all.