"Champion duel..." Hearing this term, Albert fell into deep thought. The count remained silent, and Ryan did not speak either.
A champion duel, the oldest and most sacred rule of the northern barbarians.
After embracing Chaos, the once honor-seeking and power-pursuing northern barbarians gradually corrupted into a chaotic race that craved blood and slaughter by any means. To gain victory and attract the attention of the dark gods, they would resort to any tactics, no matter how shameless or costly.
Only the champion duel remained a sacred ritual recognized by all northern barbarians.
Two champions of equal status from each side would engage in a sacred duel, and the outcome would determine the victor of the war.
A single battle to decide the winner.
The great tale of Marcus, the first Duke of Bordeleaux under the legendary King Arthur, who once defeated the Chaos champion Gavrile in a champion duel, driving away thousands of barbarian troops by himself, still resonates today.
However, the barbarians were not easy to deal with. Countless foolish nobles and knights lost their heads in champion duels because the strength of the barbarian lords was immense. These lords rose to power not by bloodline but through survival of the fittest and bloody conquest. Under such circumstances, few nobles, who relied on bloodline and fiefs, could match the strength and status of the barbarians. Many heroes failed.
"But... Brig is a high-ranking legendary barbarian chieftain..." Albert walked up to Ryan, his eyes filled with shock and even reluctance. "Are you sure?"
"We have no other options," Ryan shook his head. He walked behind Albert, pointing to the large map on the table. "The area around Midgaard Haven is mostly plains, with no natural barriers. We lack cavalry and have no mobile forces at my disposal. Moreover... I heard you only have fifty muskets..."
"They were all sent to the northern front. My armory has plenty of crossbows and weapons, but very few muskets," the count smiled bitterly. "At this crucial moment, I have no reason to lie to you because I never expected the barbarians to attack my city."
"Without muskets, the key to defending the city, and with only two cannons left at the East Gate, I can't think of any clever tactics. The disparity in strength between us and the enemy is too great, and we've lost the advantage of the city walls. The only solution is a champion duel." Ryan's tone was calm. "It's our only chance."
"I admire your noble character. I recognize you, Ryan. I, Albert Baker, swear by the God of Justice that Ryan will always be a friend of the Baker family! If this war ends, I will give you half of my savings and my family heirloom." The count squeezed Ryan's shoulder firmly, then extended his hand. "Tomorrow, let's fight side by side. My guards and I will charge together to create this opportunity for you."
The White Wolf Knight and the count shook hands. "For Nord! For your people."
"For Nord!"
The next day, when the noonday sun hung high in the sky, the dark mass of the barbarian army finally appeared on the horizon.
Despite the losses from the previous day's battle at Aarhus Bridge, the sheer number of the Bear Tribe's army was still daunting. Nearly four thousand barbarian troops advanced toward the collapsed East Gate of Midgaard Haven.
The Nord army formed a line near the city gate, arranging themselves into an unbreakable defense. Archers and crossbowmen stood on the nearby walls, arrows notched and ready.
"Barbarian raiders, berserkers, hunters, and riders. The only consolation is that I don't see any trolls or Norsca giants," Estelle stood on the wall, his quiver full of arrows. "Rost? Do you think we can hold them off?"
The barbarian Rost checked his weapons and laughed. "Of course not."
"But we still have to fight," Estelle muttered.
"I've faced worse battles. What's this? My former tribe has become playthings for the dark gods. Now, when we meet, it's a fight to the death," Rost declared loudly. "We still have to fight!"
On another part of the high walls, a large group of Nord soldiers surrounded Theresa, the sorceress. The magical power swirling around her was their only hope. Her willingness to fight had delighted the entire army. Walnut Knight Nikolai instructed the soldiers to ensure her safety if the battle turned unfavorable.
"Is that so? Banda is dead?" Theresa learned from Emilia that the young mercenary who always hovered around her had died in the terrible explosion, his body found only in pieces.
"Yes..." Emilia replied softly. She didn't mention the aftermath. After losing his apprentice, Wilt had been devastated and cursed at the Garland sorceress, blaming her for everything.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Theresa expressed her condolences. Then she said, "Emilia?"
"Hmm?" The mercenary girl was surprised. She didn't expect the sorceress to express sorrow.
"If the city falls, you should teleport back to Skyhold with Ryan and me," Theresa said, touching Emilia's face with her fingertips. "Beauty is not a crime."
"...Thank you, but I'll stay. I'm a mercenary of the Bloodaxe Mercenary Corps," Emilia replied, stepping back to avoid Theresa's touch. "Thank you for your kindness."
"Fine, as you wish." Seeing the barbarian army approaching, the sorceress stopped insisting and began preparing her spells under the soldiers' protection.
The barbarian raiders approached the gate, thrilled to find it collapsed, leaving only ruins and the Nord army guarding them. They charged forward, raising their shields and running from a slow walk to a sprint, their white bear banner fluttering in the cold air.
The defenders on the walls desperately fired arrows, and the militiamen threw javelins, stones, and anything they could find. The raiders raised their shields to block the arrows, and the engineers on the walls frantically loaded and fired the last two cannons at the dense barbarian ranks.
The barbarians were not fools. Under the command of their champions, they quickly spread out, rushing at the Nord formation in small groups.
In close combat, the barbarians' fighting style clashed vividly with the southerners'. The Nord army's line stood like iron before the ruins of the gate. With the tight coordination of pikemen and greatsword fighters, the first wave of barbarians fell in droves, but more soon flooded in.
The attackers faced relentless arrow fire from the walls. Under Nikolai's command, the crossbowmen shot in orderly waves, but this didn't deter the stronger barbarian raiders. Within minutes, they had breached the formation, forcing the Nord soldiers to confront them directly.
In one-on-one combat, ordinary soldiers were no match for the raiders. But the Nord army's tactics compensated for their weakness. Pikemen and greatsword fighters formed tight ranks, holding the line while halberdiers flanked the barbarians. The second wave was repelled.
Barbarian chieftain Brig, mounted on a giant white bear, watched his two waves of attacks falter. He signaled his champion, Krolin, clad in massive Chaos armor, who raised a black flag.
Continue the attack.
Blizzards and frost raged in the air as the Nord army and the barbarians clashed. Theresa unleashed her full power, shattering hastily made siege engines and towers with ice spears and blizzards. Her ice arrows felled many raiders, and the defenders cheered.
The battle became a protracted struggle. The Nord soldiers repelled wave after wave of attacks. Regular troops, militiamen, and hastily recruited mercenaries fought bravely, pushing back the barbarians each time, but the enemy's numbers were overwhelming. The Nord line thinned, and more militiamen, lacking training and discipline, began to falter. Walnut Knight Nikolai and his squires charged in to stabilize the situation.
The balance of victory teetered. The Nord line wavered but held. The archers on the walls ran out of arrows, many drawing swords to join the fight below.
"Ah!" Nikolai crushed another barbarian warrior with his hammer, wiping blood from his face. The battle had raged for two hours, and the Nord army was exhausted, with over half its men dead or wounded. But they fought on, knowing they defended their families' lives.
The barbarians' momentum began to wane. Their confidence faltered before the Nord's unyielding shield walls and dense pike formations, now littered with bodies.
In the streets within the city.
"The barbarians are wavering, my lord!" Guard Captain Emil nodded at Count Albert, who was fully armored and holding a lance. "Not so fast. Prepare to give them a fatal blow! We must buy Ryan time!"
The count's guard unit, about thirty men strong and fully clad in plate armor, held their lances. Joined by paladins from the Church of Justice and the Church of Life, the fifty-man cavalry unit formed up.
Ryan, holding his warhammer, stood among them. In this moment, his heart was calm.
When he decided to stay and fight, he truly understood the most challenging of the eight knightly virtues: sacrifice.
"Knight, do you have the courage to sacrifice yourself for the greater good? Whether it be material wealth or even life?"
—The Lady of the Lake
Sometimes knights were pitiful and tragic because their deity reveled in their sacrifices. Knights were expected to face hopeless battles, and they had to sacrifice.
For the sake of defending their homes and loved ones, knights' sacrifices often became the beginnings of countless heroic tales. During the great holy war 150 years ago, many knight
ly orders fought to the last man. The once-renowned Imperial Solar Knights fought until only one man remained. Even after 150 years of recovery, the order had only regained eighty percent of its strength.
They had no regrets.
Similarly, Ryan did not regret his choice.
This was not the morally bankrupt, materialistic world he once knew. In this world, the threat of Chaos constantly loomed over humanity. If no one stood up to sacrifice for their race and world, the entire world would fall into the demons' grasp.
Even his father had made terrible sacrifices.
Over eleven thousand years of endless torment, allowing his soul and will to be shattered across the universe, watching the human empire he built crumble under external and internal threats.
Yet his father persisted, for the race he loved, for humanity.
As they marched, the city's refugees and elders looked at this last hope with eyes full of expectation. They were the city's final hope. Those hopeful eyes and innocent faces brought a flood of memories to Ryan.
These thoughts were quickly interrupted by the noise at the city gate. Barbarian chieftain Brig could no longer watch his tribe fail to breach the Nord line after losing over two thousand men. The powerful Chaos champion decided to enter the fray himself.
The over seven-foot-tall chieftain, mounted on a white bear, led his champions into the battle. The Nord army seemed to be cleaved in two by an axe. Brig's roar lifted his war axe, the bear crashing into the line. Shields and pikes were shattered, and the chieftain's axe cleaved two soldiers in half. His barbarian riders and champion warriors hammered into the Nord formation, causing chaos and despair.
The moment that would decide the city's fate had arrived.
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