The two men would begin to circle each other, looking for weaknesses to exploit.
There would be no discussion between them, no declaration of allegiance nor name. Both men knew what the other wanted and both men knew there was only one way this battle would end... With one of their heads upon the bastion.
So both men were determined and neither would dare choose dishonour before death.
And, despite once being so nervous about battle, Friedrich would be the one to make the first move. Striking at his opponents shoulder blade.
An intense battle would quickly ensue with both men throwing and blocking attacks. For what seemed like hours the two would go at it, fighting through the exhaustion and the pain. They both knew what was at stake... The future of two countries embodied by two separate men fighting with all their strength.
And in the end it would seem to be Friedrich who got the lucky strike, his blade slicing through his opponents neck.
His opponent would soon drop to the floor, Friedrich towering over him as he bled. There was no cheer for victory, no pride or honour seemed to be obtained. He had simply done what was demanded of him and, in the process, he felt like he had lost a part of himself...
Yet, he hoped that this victory would lead to a better future...
Perhaps he was simply ignorant... Yet, in this case, the ignorance was bliss.