Moonlight bathed the ruined road in a pale glow, painting the battlefield in silver.
Oliver squared his stance, halberd heavy in his hand, his chest rising and falling as blood streaked down his side.
Across from him, the caped man strode forward, his red cloak trailing behind him like a living flame. The soldiers stood back in a wide circle, their armor glinting faintly, their eyes locked on the duel about to begin.
The commander drew his sword with a deliberate slowness, the steel gleaming wickedly under the moon.
No words passed between them. The silence was their oath, broken only by the wind and the groans of the wounded still dying around them.
Then the fight began.
The man lunged first, sword flashing down. Oliver's halberd spun up to meet it with a clang that rang through the night. Sparks showered between them, echoing like bells of war.
