At the front rode Sigvar, his wounds from the last battle seemingly healed. He grinned, his greatsword resting across his back.
"Come then," he growled, his voice carrying across the field. "Let's finish what we started!"
On the Duke's side, tension ran through the ranks. Soldiers trembled, some whispering quiet prayers. Fear clung to them, but still they stood, gripping their weapons tightly.
At the front, Duke Hadric waited with calm eyes. He wore no armor this time; his once-proud emerald plate lay in ruins from the last fight. A simple cloak fluttered behind him, his body wrapped in bandages.
In his right hand, he held his sword steady. His left arm was gone, bruises and cuts marked his body, but his resolve burned brighter than ever.
