Though he had duelled against Tam many times before, Kultas felt like he was facing someone completely different to the man he had known. When they had duelled as young men in the army, Tam's strikes had been soft and flowing, slipping past his guard and gently tapping him. Tam's strikes still had the flowing quality to them, but now they had held a vicious bite.
The two fighters continued to unleash a flurry of strikes at each other, increasing in intensity as they both tested the others strength, however the power of Kultas' strikes continued to intensify, and as he unleashed a heavy horizontal blow at Tam, it seemed as if he would be overcome. Pressing his palm against the blade of his sword to reinforce his block, Tam skidded backward, eyebrows raised at Kultas' shocking power.
"How about that Cousin?" Kultas sneered at Tam.
"You've improved." Tam said simply. He brought his sword up to shoulder level, holding his arm out straight, lining the sword directly up with Kultas' head.
"Your posturing won't scare me, have a taste of this!" Kultas crouched and his entire body began to glow with a soft light, the ground near him shaking and plumes of dust rising from the ground. He moved slowly, swinging his axe back and gathering a massive amount of momentum.
Meanwhile, Tam held his pose, balanced on the balls of his feet, his mouth a grim line as he stared at Kultas. Kultas' axe began to swing forward, slowly but surely, unerringly aiming toward Tam, it seemed as if the space around the pair had become the consistency of treacle, as Kultas inched toward Tam, his armored boots slamming into the ground.
Tam's eyes' flashed and he took one deliberate step forward, an imperceptible blur rushing toward Kultas. Kultas' axe suddenly shot upward, but it was too late.
Tam now stood, stock still, his arm outstretched, his sword piercing clean through Kultas' helm and skull. An eerie silence settled over the battlefield, as even the lowliest soldier had noticed the sudden drop in the mana emanating from the two titans. Realising that they were victorious, Tam's soldiers erupted into cheers as Kultas' loyal soldiers threw down their weapons, their lord no longer living.
Many of the outer units of Kultas' army began to flee the nobles commanding them realising their rebellion had failed. No one gave chase, since they had flown their own standards and were now known to be traitors, Ursten no longer held a place for them.
The clashing of weapons faded from the battlefield, and a hub hub of noise rose, soldiers calling out for their companions, hoping they were alive, Tam's soldiers ordering their newly imprisoned countrymen into orderly queues and squad leaders and captains yelling out for their units.
Some on the battlefield had the relieved look of a victorious army, others the sorrow of a lost lord, while yet others wore a complicated expression, relieved they no longer had the fight against their kingdom but filled with sorrow at the loss of Kultas. However, one man alone was without even the faintest expression. Tam stood, stoic by where Kultas had fallen. His face blank, he stood vigil even as his lieutenants began to organize up the survivors and prisoners.
Kothar watched as his father stood silent beside his fallen cousin, realizing the gravity of what had happened. It was evident that Ursten's soldiers were enormously loyal to their commanders, even though they swore loyalty to the throne. It was no surprise that almost Kultas' entire army had chosen to follow him into rebellion and even less so that so many nobles joined him.
Rotan was popular amongst the commoners and merchants, who he assisted in joining the great academies, but now that many of those talented commoners were rising in the ranks of the Kingdom, the nobles feared their rising power, and feared what Rotan might take from them if he had a real hold over them all.
"Come away kid! Let's get you back to camp, time to get you fed." Balmin called out to Kothar, stepping gingerly across the muddy battlefield, favoring one leg.
"I know your father would rather have you getting fed and rested, rather than stewing out here in the muck."
"Sure thing Balmin, let's go."
"You got us a tidy noble prisoner as well, you did well, defending the mage outpost. Count Gerard here will be a nice little bargaining chip to persuade his father to come back from which ever hole he decides to flee to." Balmin nodded at the unconscious Gerard, his torso still smoking lightly from Kothar's spell.
"He was a tough opponent for sure, I got lucky because he expected me to be a Warrior rather than a Mage." Kothar softly chatted to Balmin, as they carried Gerard by his arms and legs toward the camp.
"Don't sell yourself short, Kid. You know as well as I do that information is a part of one's prowess, why else would every Kingdom send so many so-called 'ambassadors' to their neighbors?"
"Hahaha, ambassadors huh?" Kothar grinned as he was reminded of Simon, who had mysteriously disappeared the night they arrived at the camp, without so much as a word to anyone.
"Let's bring this one to where we're going to be keeping the special prisoners." Balmin lead Kothar past where masses of prisoners were setting up their own camp, it appeared their countrymen were exceptionally well behaved prisoners. They came to a group of large spacious tents, outside which were many boxes of rune inscribed shackles.
"We'll be needing a pair of those, bring me a pair so we can get your friend here settled." Balmin slung Gerard over one shoulder and marched inside one of the tents. Kothar entered holding a pair of the shackles, and marveled at the rows of shackled prisoners, not restrained by anything more than the rune inscribed shackles.
"These'll take care of his mana circulation." Balmin took the shackles from Kothar and snapped them onto Gerard's wrists, laying him down surprisingly gently next to an already shackled man.
[I wonder if we could utilise those runes in a weapon, it could be very useful.]
[Please record and begin analysis Silane.]
[Sure thing.]
"I wonder if I could have a pair Balmin? I'm very interested in runes." Kothar piped up as they left the tent.
"Hmmm. I don't see the harm in that. After all, your father finances the army, so technically they already belong to you. It won't do you much good though, these designs have been unchanged for hundreds of years, these are ancient runic arrangements." Balmin pulled a pair from a box and handed them to Kothar.
"I guess we will see."