Viscount Baioric was not a very ambitious man, he had few lands to call it his and most of it was simple and backwater, with little special to it. Still he would never say that he was an unhappy man.

He had a very talented son to carry out his legacy, unlike his untalented self, and a beautiful young daughter born just recently. His wife was, as expected from aristocracy, a woman chosen to him by his father in order to form a political marriage, nonetheless she was a very kind and supportive wife and for that he felt very fortunate.

However when he was assigned to defend the City of Arrianne, who everyone knew would take the full force of the Lusian army, he felt the pressure of duty and unwanted attention for the first time. Still, he could not simply refuse the order of the king, so he asked his liege to at least allow his family to evacuate the city to the capital of the kingdom, which fortunately was accepted.

When he heard the vanguard was obliterated, he knew that the forces he sent there to reinforce it would not return. Knowing they would be in for a harsh siege, he ordered the common protocol of gathering supplies and sabotaging every well and farm on the way to Arrianne, adopting the scorched earth strategy. Unfortunately for Baioric, the Lusians acted too quickly, and by the time he ordered countermeasures, the bulk of the Lusians were basically on his doorstep, very close to his location.

Still there was nothing to fear, the defences and walls of the city were strong, even with a large army, after facing it for a bit the Lusians would surely hesitate to attack it at full force and even if they decided to siege it the surrounding forests were completely depleted a long time ago, so they would have to bring wood from other far away locations, this would buy him time. Also, as long as they held for 2-3 weeks reinforcements would surely come, as such he denied any negotiations, confident he could defend this place.

However, Baioric was again surprised with bad news. The Lusians had obtained access to a large quantity of building material from somewhere he didn't know which allowed the Lusians to, little after they arrived, start a massive offensive which kept getting heavier by the day as more siege engines were made and reinforcements arrived. The Lusians were indeed receiving quite some casualties, however it was way below what Baioric hoped.

By this point, Baioric knew he was completely outplayed. He heard how the king of Lusian was a timid and cowardly man and since he was leading this force he expected it to be very mild on the offensive when this campaign started. However, as of now, Baioric could only see him now as an intelligent viper, hiding his fangs until the fatal bite. In his mind he endsley cursed “ who the hell confused a viper with a worm!?”.

Then the situation became even worse. Totila appeared, a warrior that even the ambitionless and somewhat reclusive Baioric knew, a warrior of great caliber and renowned as one of the greatest warriors of the peninsulas. His appearance inflamed the spirits of nearby soldiers, and his challenge put a check on Baioric, who had no champion to challenge him before the eyes of the Valorous.

The viscount knew that if no one challenged Totila, after the same has taken off his panoply, not only would the entire garrison perceive the man as death in person, for there would be proven that none was stronger than him in the Oderickian ranks, but the same would receive the favour of the Valorous, making him almost like a demi-god to those around him This would be disastrous, even more so now that almost the entire walls were filled with Lusian soldiers.

With the entire defense almost collapsing, the Viscount had to make a gamble, he had to move, otherwise not only was his defeat guaranteed but his entire family dynasty would be disgraced for this defeat and shame before the Trinity. He would never have a chance against Totila normally, but without his panoply? there was a slight chance.

The viscount stood before Totila, sword in hand. He decided to also throw away his shield and his helmet, against Totila’s warhammer both would be useless, the giant would just crush right through them.

With his vision clear, the viscount made his announcement before the Valorous.

“In the Name of the Valous, I accept your challenge. My name is Beioric Oderick Tarentia di Baladena.”

“Totila Lusian Vasconcy di Algeir, my pleasure."

The viscount took a stance, with the tip of his sword point slightly downwards with his legs flexed and ready to lunge. He stated clearly what his move was to be a lunge toward his opponent's chest.

Totila on the other hand was just standing still with no posture, with his warhammer on his shoulder.

Usually, many would believe that Totila was mocking this duel and his opponent, that he was not taking this sacred duel seriously, however this would be a large misunderstanding, for Totila was doing this exactly because he was taking this seriously.

While the Duke of Algiers was a renowned veteran warrior, the viscount was just a simple man with some decent training, it would be like expecting a newbie to beat a master, that would be highly unfair. So in order to make things even, Totila had to give several advantages to the viscount, otherwise he would only be perceived as someone who bullied the weak before the Valorous, bringing him dishonour and loss of favor by the Trinity.

Knowing this the viscount took a stance that gave emphasis to speed and penetration ready to stab at Totila’s heart.

There was a silence between them that seemed to transform seconds into hours. While the fighting continued on other places, the spot where both the Duke and viscount found themselves, was in utter silence with some not even breathing or blinking unconsciously.

However, the first to make a move was Totila, by making a small gesture. He placed his free hand a bit away to his side, opened it, and made a body language as if to invite his opponent for a hug, basically saying “i shall take your first attack head on”.

The viscount seeing that acted quick, the fastest move he ever had made in his life. Despite his “mediocre” martial abilities, he was still trained as a knight and as a mage, like it was expected of nobility, those born to fight.

In his eyes and silhouette it could be seen a strong aura of blue and green, a sign that he indeed was giving everything he had on this one attack, even at the cost of his health.

It all ended in less than a second, the viscount crossed the distance between him and his opponent with his sword straight as an neddle.

The next second, a sword could be seen penetrating Totila’s chest, blood then began to drip on the ground.

“it is unfortunate for you, but it’s my win” Said Totila

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While the viscount sword did reached Totila’s chest, it penetrated too little to reach his heart.

Just as the Viscount clothed himself completely in mana, down to his muscles and organs, creating what it was called “Aura burning”, a technique which a user used mana on his whole body and pushed it beyond its limits, Totila used a common technique for knights called Aura Armour, were they concentrated mana on the surface of their skin in order to create a natural barrier. Usually a normal Aura Armour would never be strong enough to stop even normal blows by itself, however Totila was among the exceptions, his was like a high quality armour.

In the next moments, the viscount wondered if he should be happy that he actually did enough to wound such a powerful opponent or disappointed that just a bit more and he may have won? Well, not that it matters anymore, for it was now all over, he just wished he could see his family one last time before departing.

Little after, the viscount felt a shock in his head, and everything went blank afterwards.

With the death of the viscount, the outer walls of the city of Arrianne had fallen, the Lusian flag could be seen high and tall, hanging above the main gate, from where many Lusian soldiers began to pour into the city.

The Lusian soldiers were in huge uproar over the early duel, their spirits unstoppable. They seemed like an army of devils who did not fear death to the defenders.

Before the Viscount went to the duel however, he instructed his cousin to take command and prepare to retreat to the second set of walls while the duel happened, in case he was defeated.

Seeing no way to stop the Lusian momentum, a general retreat was ordered.

The Oderickians began to flee as fast as they could to the secondary walls. While many were cut down in the retreat, they did manage to fall back in an orderly manner despite the Lusian overwhelming might mostly due to the sacrifice that the Viscount made despite the odds, making many of the soldiers feel sympathy for their fallen commander.

Still, life isn't so merciful.

The moment the Oderickians arrived at the second wall's gate they found it closed for some reason.

“Open the gates!! Why is it closed!” Said the Viscount cousin.

“It was ordered for the gate to remain open unti-”

Before the Viscount’s second in command could properly finish the sentence, he got a bolt to his chest, with his coat of plates and chain mail barely preserving his life.

“We are not opening these gates! if you want them open then you will have to fight us!”

A commonly dressed man shouted from the top of the walls, looking no different from a normal denizen of the city, with the only difference being the large crossbow in his arms.

“ Who are you people!? How dare you do this to your betters!” Said an adjutant.

“Our betters? We serve no Oderickian invaders! our allegiance belongs only to the king of Lusian! ”

Said the same man, now picking a makeshift lusian banner from the ground, proudly waving it to show his allegiance.

“T-Traitor! Rebel! Kill that man! whoever is on the gates!”

The Adjutant was too confused and tired from the fighting to think rationally, after all why would a rebel appear on the gates that was supposed to be under heavy guard? The answer to his question came fast, as other denizens began to appear on the walls, with crossbows, bows and spears shooting and throwing at any Oderickian soldier close by.

“What!? h-how?! What the hell is going on here! ”

“Sire! what are your orders?! what do we do!?” said a knight close by defending the adjuntant.

“I-I, I.” the adjutant mutters to himself, unable to recollect his thoughts. He knew that he had to act quick but had no idea what to do, enemies at his front, enemies at his back.

Why did this have to happen right now that they had lost both their commander and second-in-command? Who were those people? were they truly citizens or were they lusian spies? How did they take out the soldiers stationed here? Too many questions, no answer to any and too many problems at the same time clogged the man’s thinking while his men were getting shot in front and getting killed behind him.

Unfortunately for the Oderickians, who planned to hold on for reinforcements, none of the events that unfolded were just mere coincident. Kniva had been planning this war for years, down to the finest details, he knew that his kingdom could not support a very long war, that his enemies were many, as such he needed to be very meticulous in his planning. So he prepared this city for this very moment.

Kniva had engaged heavily in intelligence gathering and propaganda, he made sure that every bit of errors that the Oderickians made in Arrianne would become a flame of hatred that would later bite the Oderickians in the most dire of times, fueling in the locals the desire to return being a part of the Kingdom of Lusian once again.

In order to organize a local revolt, Kniva also sent agents to train rebels in secret and to keep them in check so they would not revolt too early and just end up as sacrifices. Many such agents became leaders in these rebel cells, like the man with a crossbow that shot the Oderickian second in command, all in order to revolt at the right moment. That moment came when the flags of Lusian swayed proudly above the gate of the city when the first walls were taken, this proved to the rebels that the Lusian kingdom could win.

If perhaps the Oderickians had managed to flee to the second set of walls, and then to the Main keep in the center of the city, they could perhaps last long enough and deal enough damage to stop this campaign on its track, specially considering that most of the Oderickians who migrated here lived in the inner walls. This was the only chance the Lusians had to take the city in one go.

And so, according to plan, everything ended in a flash. The Lusians led by Totila quickly sandwiched the bulk of the Oderickians forces between them and the rebels, with no hope many Oderickians begged for mercy or fled to the residential areas.

The Oderickian planned retreat turned into a rout and then into full blown chaos as some began to set fire to the residential areas in order to create a distraction to flee.

The residents, seeing where the wind was blowing and resentful of the Oderickian occupation, began to mob individual Oderickians who were found fleeing.

A butchering of Oderickians began to erupt everywhere in the city’s lower part where most of the Original inhabitants lived. Anyone seen with a Oderickian banner or was seen being sympathetic to them was subject to the horrors of those who felt oppressed.

Even knights in resplandecente armour were now full of mud and blood, too tired to fight back, being lynched by the locals who barely knew how to fight, many dying in disgrace.

Nonetheless, by the end of the fourth day it was over. The remaining Oderickians still alive and barricading themselves in the keep surrendered, with not nearly enough numbers to keep on fighting, so they decided it was hopeless.

By the end of the Siege barely 200 out of the over 4.000 defenders were left, mostly those assigned to guard duty in the keep, with 1.500 captured and over 2.000 dead, most of the casualties made during the retreat. In the meantime the Lusians suffered close to 2.000 casualties, both dead and wounded.

The large number of casualties despite the well planned assault showed just how much of a devastating damage this fortress city could have caused if more properly guarded. In a way, paying for a moderate amount of casualties was a fair price in the large scale of things, even more so considering how much of a price this city was.

Everyone in the camp rejoiced after this magnificent victory, for they knew that now they had a gateway towards the capital of the region of Catalunia, “from here towards Catalunia castle” everyone though, for they so far have achieved immense success.

When Diaz learned of their victory, he was together with his father and brother back at the camp, and while everyone was in eager spirits, all Diaz could see from his father's face was a mix of both happiness and worry. From that small glance, Diaz could tell that while their success was great, it would also bring in some new problems.