The room was thick with tension as Duke Frederic, the commander who had sent 2,000 heavily armored knights to aid King Janusz and Duke Halftan and King Igor, stepped forward to speak. His voice was low and stern, filled with unspoken anger and disappointment. "It has come to my attention that Sir Ulrich von Richten, a knight of great honor, was slain by none other than Prince Wolfram Gengiz, your grandson, my Kaiser. More than half of my men were cut down in battle by the Hunnic riders. It was reported to me that this army was led by Wolfram Gengiz himself."
Kaiser Anno, seated on his throne, leaned forward slightly, his expression neutral but his curiosity piqued. "Yes," he said, his voice measured, "I have heard of these events before Wolfram's return. However, I am not fully aware of the details. We will learn them together now." He turned his gaze to Wolfram, inviting him to speak.
Wolfram took a deep breath and began, his voice steady, his words sharp and to the point. "I was assisting Kara and the Hunnic riders in escaping with their families from the invasion. But then, our scouts brought word of a small Eastern European army camped not far from where we were stationed. Kara, myself, and a thousand riders set out to observe the camp, but we did the unthinkable—we attacked and defeated them. From there, we geared up, and more Hunnic riders joined us, giving us time to prepare. We gave the spoils of war to the Hun families, and they set out towards Constantinople and the lands of Duke Isaakios.
From that point, we pressed on. I was still under Kara's command, as I am a Tharkan warrior, trained to obey. We then faced the main invasion led by King Janusz, Duke Halftan, and others. Amidst the chaos, the Kipchak riders brought the Teutonic knights to the battlefield. They attacked the army I was in, but I had no desire for further bloodshed. After our initial charge, I requested that the knights retreat.
However, Kara led the charge, and I had no command over the army at that moment. After Kara fell in battle, I took charge and ordered them to leave. But Sir Ulrich refused to follow my orders, and when he scolded me in front of the knights, I acted, believing my father had already passed away. I thought I had the authority to command, but I was wrong. My actions were based on a lack of information and time to decide in the middle of a heated battle. Whatever punishment is deemed necessary, I am here to face it."
As Wolfram finished speaking, the room fell silent. The air was heavy with the weight of his words. Aslı and the other council members were visibly shocked by the bluntness and confidence in his speech. Wolfram's voice did not waver, nor did he stutter. Years of military service under Kara and others had trained him to report with brutal honesty, even when he failed. He had learned to speak with clarity and precision in the heat of battle and after.
Duke Frederic, still seething but now more measured, responded, "Sir Ulrich was an honorable and strong commander. He died plainly. We seek justice. Our order needs to maintain its dignity, and we demand satisfaction by combat—a duel to restore honor."
Kaiser Anno leaned back in his throne, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face as he looked at Wolfram. "And what say you, young prince, to such a request?"
Wolfram glanced at Aslı, who gave him a reassuring smile, boosting his confidence. He looked back at the Kaiser and said, "I am ready to face anyone you desire, as long as this matter is settled, and justice is fulfilled."
One of the knights escorting Duke Frederic stepped forward—Albrecht, the champion of Holland. He asked for permission to challenge Wolfram, and Kaiser Anno nodded, granting it. Albrecht put on his shiny helmet, his long sword gleaming as he prepared for combat.
Wolfram, however, was unarmed. The guards approached, offering him armor and a weapon, but Wolfram declined. "There is no need," he said, pulling out his simple dagger—the same one given to him by Kara when he had first started his training. Albrecht, seeing that Wolfram was ill-equipped for the duel, paused and said, "I can wait for you to gear up. It must be a fair challenge."
Wolfram smiled, unimpressed by the knight's bravado. "It's already fair, sir. May I ask your name?"
The knight responded, "I am Albrecht of Holland, and may God decide whose sword carries justice today."
Wolfram's smile widened, weary of such formalities. "But what of the other two knights who escorted you? Will they stand there watching, or will they join? I insist they do."
The room gasped, shocked by Wolfram's audacity. He was asking for a fight against not one but three knights. Even Kaiser Anno was taken aback. "Did I hear you correctly, Wolfram? You wish to combat all three?"
Wolfram nodded and clarified, "Yes, my lord. I want to end this here, today, with a single combat."
Chancellor King Guthfrith intervened, his voice filled with disbelief. "You aren't even properly armored or armed. Let's take this matter seriously, my prince."
But Wolfram remained stoic, unaffected by the disbelief around him. "I am serious. And I do not intend to prolong this fight."
Knight Albrecht raised his sword, ready to engage. Wolfram, still unfazed, looked at the other two knights. "You can join anytime you want, gentlemen. I challenge you all."
Albrecht, now determined to uphold his honor, raised his sword and approached Wolfram cautiously. The other knights remained still, unsure of whether to intervene. Wolfram, with a sudden burst of speed, charged at Albrecht before he could even swing his sword. He struck Albrecht's chin with his knee, targeting the weak spot in the knight's helmet. Albrecht staggered, nearly falling onto Wolfram, grabbing him for balance.
Seizing the opportunity, Wolfram pulled the knight's secondary sword from his belt, now wielding both a sword and his dagger. The fight shifted as Wolfram began effortlessly deflecting Albrecht's sword strikes, moving with an ease that startled everyone watching. It became clear who had the upper hand.
Duke Frederic, watching from the sidelines, began to grow nervous. He had assumed Wolfram was just a reckless, spoiled prince. But it became evident that Wolfram had undergone intense training as a Tharkan warrior. His movements were calculated, swift, and deadly.
In the midst of the battle, Wolfram struck Albrecht's helmet hard, knocking it loose. Albrecht's face was now fully visible. Wolfram smirked. "Ah, finally, I can see the man I'm fighting."
The duel continued, but it was evident to everyone in the room that Wolfram was in complete control.
As Wolfram struck the knight's helmet off with a swift motion, he saw the knight's face contort in anger. The loss of his helmet fueled his rage, and he attacked with renewed fury. Each swing of his sword was more aggressive than the last, but Wolfram effortlessly deflected or dodged the attacks. With each movement, Wolfram sliced through the knight's armor, wearing him down piece by piece. Years of rigorous training, fighting on horseback, and surviving in the wild had molded Wolfram into a warrior as strong as steel.
After just two or three minutes of intense battle, the knight was visibly exhausted—his breathing was labored, and sweat dripped from his brow. In contrast, Wolfram remained calm, composed, and unshaken. His years of physical conditioning had given him unmatched stamina. The knight, struggling to catch his breath, launched one final desperate attack, but Wolfram saw through his fatigue. With swift precision, Wolfram disarmed him, sending his sword clattering to the ground.
Wolfram raised his dagger to the knight's throat, signaling that the duel was over. But instead of finishing him, Wolfram took a few steps back and, with a smirk, looked at the other two knights standing nearby. "Come on, gentlemen," he called out, his voice thick with challenge. "Let's finish this already."
The remaining knights felt a surge of embarrassment and fury at Wolfram's audacity. They had hoped to avoid battle, but now Wolfram's challenge had humiliated them in front of the entire court. Enraged and eager to redeem their honor, the two knights charged at Wolfram.
Yet their combined assault was futile. Wolfram, even against two opponents, moved with calculated precision. He deflected their blows, disarmed their weapons, and countered their attacks with ease. One knight swung his sword, but Wolfram ducked and swiftly delivered a crushing blow to his head, causing blood to stream from the knight's forehead and down into his eye. The wounded knight staggered back, unable to continue fighting, his vision blurred by the blood. Wolfram now faced two knights.
The battle raged on, but Wolfram was in complete control. He skillfully wounded the remaining knights, keeping them at bay and wearing them down. Finally, with a devastating high kick, Wolfram struck one of the knights in the neck, sending him crashing to the ground. Now only one knight remained standing.
Without hesitation, Wolfram charged at the final knight, tackling him to the ground. In a display of brute strength, Wolfram wrestled the knight down and began punching through his helmet, denting it with each blow. Seizing the helmet, Wolfram tore it from the knight's head and used it as a weapon, smashing it into the knight's skull with brutal force. The final knight lay defeated, bloodied and beaten.
Wolfram stood over the three fallen knights, his chest barely rising from exertion, and wiped a small bead of sweat from his brow. He had taken on all three of the renowned Teutonic Knights and emerged victorious. Looking around at the stunned faces in the room, Wolfram spoke calmly, "I believe it is now proven that I acted with honesty. The gods have favored me today. I thank you for the opportunity to clear my name in the history of this empire."
Silence filled the room. Everyone, from Duke Frederic to the lowliest guards, was in shock. Wolfram had not only bested three elite knights—trained in the most rigorous combat techniques and loyal members of a feared military order—but he had done so without breaking a sweat. These knights had spent their lives preparing for battle. They were a cult of warriors, dedicated to their craft. Yet Wolfram had defeated them all with seemingly little effort.
Kaiser Anno sat on his throne, watching the spectacle unfold with a mix of concern and awe. He had hoped for a capable heir to the throne, but Wolfram had far surpassed his expectations. Wolfram had proven himself to be more than just a prince—he was a true warrior, hardened by the brutal training of the Tharkan riders. His combat prowess, his strategic mind, and his unwavering resolve made him a dangerous figure, both to his enemies and to those who sought to control him.
Rumors of Wolfram's triumph quickly spread throughout the Holy Roman Empire. Tales of the young prince, trained under the feared Kara, circulated in every corner. It was said that he was the warrior who had led the Hunnic riders to victory, the man who had single-handedly halted the Western invasion, and the prince who had defeated not only Eastern European armies but also the legendary Teutonic Knights.
Wolfram's fame grew rapidly, and with it, whispers of his ambition. He had already proven himself a force to be reckoned with. He was no longer just the grandson of Kaiser Anno; he was a man capable of seizing power for himself. His reputation as a fearsome warrior spread far and wide, and while some admired his strength, others feared what his rise to power might mean.
Kaiser Anno, for all his authority, could not help but feel a twinge of fear. Wolfram Gengiz was not just a warrior—he was a potential threat to the throne itself. He was more than fit to rule, perhaps even more suited to lead than Anno himself. The Kaiser knew that one day, Wolfram might challenge him, and when that day came, the empire would stand at a crossroads.
The empire had found its next great leader in Wolfram Gengiz, but whether he would bring it prosperity or plunge it into chaos remained to be seen. One thing was certain: Wolfram's rise was inevitable, and the entire Roman Empire would soon feel the weight of his ambition.