The Commander's Duel
The Silver Eagle Legion and the private soldiers of Hardwin Territory stormed the fief with terrifying momentum. Their spirit rose so high it seemed to pierce the heavens, and nothing could stand in their way. As if to prove the point, the soldiers of Tyram Territory failed to stop even a single invader. Even though the gates had been opened, only so many could squeeze through the narrow entrance at once, yet the Tyram defenders were utterly helpless. It was the moment when numerical superiority lost all meaning.
That was when it happened. A commander-level figure came sprinting from afar and bellowed.
It was absurd that this was all he could think to shout, yet the difference between having someone say even that and having no one was enormous. One could see it in the Tyram soldiers who immediately raised their shields and packed together. As if they would allow not even the slightest gap, the lead shield bearers held firm while spearmen behind them thrust through every opening.
The Silver Eagle Legion, which had been advancing without resistance, now found it difficult to push forward. Shields clashed in a tense standoff.
The enemy mages struck first.
Whoosh!
They were surrounded by enemies with no clear line of sight, yet multiple fire bolts came flying in.
The leaders of each assault team in the Silver Eagle Legion responded with practiced precision. The fiercely incoming fire bolts lost much of their force upon impact. Their sheer numbers were a problem, but the legion had trained relentlessly for anti-magic combat in preparation for exactly this kind of situation. Moreover, with the overall commander being a mage herself, their response to magical attacks was flawless.
The reason they were truly called Silver Eagles was simple. They were technical elites, yes, but they were also equipped with gear worthy of that title. Clad in silver armor, their blades and shields bore the image of an eagle with wings spread wide. Every piece was crafted from mithril.
Indeed, mithril is harder than iron and possesses strong magic resistance.
That was why they could block the fire bolts without fear.
While Daphne directed the overall battle, once combat was underway the fine details fell to each assault leader. The system allowed for clearer communication and better execution. Without it, the Silver Eagle Legion would have been no different from any other unit.
The Hardwin soldiers embedded in each team initially found the command structure awkward, but once they accepted that their assault leader held final authority, their performance improved dramatically. Though they were ragtag compared to the Silver Eagles, the quick-witted ones soon moved as part of the single living organism the formation had become.
Screams of "Kyaaak!" echoed before the gates as Tyram defenders fell. The generals of the Tyram Count's forces arrived late, but they had no hope of reversing a battle that had already flipped completely.
At that same moment, reports were flying inside Count Tyram's office.
The white-haired butler bowed deeply.
Count Tyram sank into deep thought upon learning that the orthodox Hardwin forces had joined the Silver Eagle Legion. He weighed his options.
Count Tyram had far too many problems to consider. He had never imagined an enemy invasion in a non-border region, and his two beloved sons were nowhere to be found. The enemy's momentum was fierce, but not impossible to stop. Yet if Julian and Darian joined the fray and died...
Just imagining it made the count's head spin.
The butler answered carefully.
Count Tyram squeezed his eyes shut.
"Yes, my lord."
The butler's task was to help the count don his equipment. With war suddenly upon them, he could not remain idle. Count Tyram was not the sort to sit quietly like some old man in the back room. Though his body was aged, his family was an old and distinguished one with its own unique sword style. He had wielded a blade since childhood. An old wolf he might be, but his fangs had not grown dull.
Once the butler left, Count Tyram rose from his seat and drew the sword at his waist.
Shing!
A sharp ring filled the air, and long-absent tension rippled through him. The blade was well-maintained; his own reflection stared back from its surface. White hair, a face covered in wrinkles. It was not a pleasant sight.
The territory, my children, or my pride.
He could not have all three. Count Tyram knew all too well about Seiros Kingdom's Silver Eagle Legion. He especially knew what kind of man Gruon, the ruler of De Pruna, was. Facing such an opponent, what room was there for hesitation? Yet a noble's pride whispered that he should discard everything else and behave as a noble should.
Count Tyram found himself caught in the dilemma of a lifetime. He sheathed his sword once more and left the room.
At the same time, Julian and Darian had gathered their gear and were racing toward the gate where the enemy had struck. Even from a distance the urgency was obvious; they watched magic rise high into the sky before descending.
Darian spoke with clear worry as they ran.
With a resolute expression, Julian raced toward the gate. Darian could not help but follow. No matter how rational he usually was, the reality of the situation left no room for debate. Without the two of them, the defense lacked credibility. No matter how skilled the soldiers, they could only swing their weapons; they could not manifest Aura and would never overcome the Silver Eagle Legion. Darian understood both instinctively and rationally that the two of them had to be present.
The pair quickly reached the rear of the Tyram forces, who were barely holding the line.
The generals who should have been fighting at the front had instead retreated to the rear, shouting orders frantically.
Julian's roar was so furious that veins bulged on his forehead. The generals fell silent as if they had swallowed their tongues, while the mages hurriedly cast protective spells on the front-line soldiers. Of course, even those spells were mercilessly shredded by mithril blades, but they at least bought a little time.
Bagan watched the scene from afar and recognized how dire the situation had become. He chose not to intervene. Of course, if he joined the fray the war would end far faster than usual, but that was not his preference.
More importantly, it looks like I'll finally get to see a proper fight.
Bagan sensed considerable power from the pair who had just arrived. As Aura was ultimately the use of mana rooted in life force, he could feel it clearly. He judged them stronger than both Daphne, who could already wield Aura, and Selena, who had only recently awakened hers. He was curious to see how Daphne and Gruon would handle such opponents.
Finally, Julian and Darian stepped to the very front, their bodies wrapped thickly in Aura. A Silver Eagle soldier swung at their armor, but the densely layered Aura could not be pierced.
Clang!
The sound was too heavy to have come from striking a person. The soldier's panicked expression was almost comical. Julian, having allowed the blow, smiled faintly and swung his own sword in return.
The weapons they wielded were classic longswords—in fact, the type known as claymores. Though such blades were normally meant to be used with both hands, the brothers swung them one-handed. Their style resembled Paul's right-hand swordsmanship, yet unlike Paul's lightning-quick blade, theirs carried heavy, crushing power. Blocking and counterattacking seemed to be second nature.
Clang! Clang!
Julian Tyram and Darian Tyram. Their sword styles matched perfectly, suggesting this was the Tyram Count family's unique technique. With the two of them fighting at the forefront, casualties finally began to appear among the Silver Eagles, and the less-equipped Hardwin soldiers started dying. The battle that had been flowing according to plan suddenly ground to a halt. The two Aura users had reversed the tide.
Julian assessed the situation and spoke loudly.
The assault teams glared at him as if ready to charge, but they could do nothing. The difference in skill was simply too great.
Yet it was not only they who could not tolerate the insult to their legion.
The words came from Daphne. Both Gruon and the Silver Eagle soldiers looked shocked to hear such a statement from her, but their expressions soon turned refreshed. It had been a successful provocation after all.
Gruon stepped forward.
As always in war, there were only two choices: die or surrender. Gruon was asking which they preferred.
Julian brushed the words aside lightly, refusing to yield. Darian whispered something to his brother from behind.
As a swordsman, Julian despised magic. Combined with his hatred of other races, his interpretation was inevitable.
He raised his voice once more.
A commander's duel was a rule more commonly seen in gladiatorial arenas. It was not normally accepted in a war where lives hung in the balance. Only someone fresh out of the academy would suggest such a thing. The allied forces, who could simply push through, had no obligation to accept.
The mockery in Gruon's tone was obvious.
Contrary to his usual personality, Julian cherished his territory deeply.
Julian spoke through gritted teeth. He had intended to ignore the suggestion entirely, but the now-calm Daphne leaned close and whispered.
Daphne spoke with absolute trust. She believed accepting the duel was the wiser path.
In the end, Gruon accepted the commander's duel.