Leonard sat in the atrium, watching as Hassel's administrative wing was being newly reconstructed despite a stack of reports he needed to get through. His office beckoned, but he enjoyed walking around, observing the effort his people were putting into making their new capital functional.

The morning sun poured in through the newly installed high windows, illuminating motes of dust floating in the air. Rows of tall columns framed the space, carved from stone salvaged after the citadel's collapse.

After several master masons had deemed the whole thing too unstable to be worth rebuilding, Leonard had ordered it be pulled down, and a new grand City Hall be raised in its place.

Although still unfinished, with scaffolding still clinging to half of the exterior, the area served as the de facto command center. The Tower was starting to become crowded. Even if a lot still needs to be done here, it just feels right.

Outside, he could hear the distant clang of hammers and saws. The city hummed with industry as countless workers strove to rebuild. Occasionally, low voices and hurried footsteps echoed through the atrium, but no one stopped him as he completed his inspection and walked back to his new office.

It was still quite spartan, with only one full bookcase out of the seven he had built, and three maps showing increasingly wider views of Hassel, Hetnia, and Haylich. He was sure that with some time, he'd make it into a nicer place.

With a sigh, he sat back down and pored over logistical notes: supply lines needed rearranging, rations needed to be distributed, and reinforcement scheduled. More importantly, with the victory in the South, they needed to start building the new canal and complete the preparations for the push into Garva. No matter how much he worked, it seemed to be never-ending.

Amelia had once teased that he, the mighty Hero, had become little more than a clerk. But he recognized the necessity: wars weren't just about battles. They were about managing resources, morale, and alliances.

His train of thought ended when Gareth appeared by the door, framed by the bright morning light.

A quick inspection revealed that although he looked tired and dirty, he wasn't injured. Leonard had sent him out on a reconnaissance mission the previous day, and while Leonard trusted his skills, he knew the Royal Army's vanguard forces could pose a serious threat.

"Gareth." Leonard stood, striding forward. "Are you well?"

Gareth shook his head. "A few scrapes. They'll heal." He paused, then presented a folded parchment stained with dust and dried blood. "We found a scouting force, about a hundred men. Well-trained and better equipped than any we've seen in Hetnia."

"What happened?" Leonard asked gently, setting the report down on his desk. He would read it later, but he preferred a first-hand account.

"We engaged them as per our orders." Gareth's voice was matter-of-fact, but Leonard sensed the underlying tension. "Though most were scouts, they fought like elites. We prevailed, but we lost a few knights and some orcs."

Leonard's heart sank. He knew this was inevitable, but always hoped it wouldn't be necessary. "How many did we lose? Did you bring them back for me to resurrect?"

Gareth's jaw tightened. "Seven knights dead, three more wounded badly enough that the healers are still working on them. Four orcs are gone, too. The rest are mostly injured, some severely. But we destroyed that scout force and took a handful of prisoners."

Leonard closed his eyes, nodding. The Revolution could afford casualties, mostly thanks to his resurrection ability, but it wasn't always possible to bring people back from the sea of souls. "You did well, Gareth," he finally said, keeping his tone calm though it pained him to show no grief. "You've confirmed our intelligence and struck a heavy blow. That's important."

A flicker of relief crossed Gareth's features. "Thank you." He exhaled. "Truth is, these soldiers… they're on another level compared to what Pollus had. We were lucky it was only a hundred. If they send more or coordinate in a big push, we'll be in for a hard fight."

Leonard nodded solemnly. "I understand." He placed a firm hand on Gareth's shoulder. "Go see the healers. You've earned some rest, and I need you in peak condition if we're to prepare for what's next."

Gareth nodded slightly. "Yes, sir." Without further ceremony, he trudged away.

Leonard stood there a moment longer. He reminded himself that they had known this was coming—that the real Royal Army would be no pushover. Even so, the reality of so many losses compared to their almost unscathed record so far weighed heavily on him.

He shook his head and purposefully left his office, walking down the corridor and the stairs until he reached the morgue. There, he did his best to recover as many as possible, but as he'd expected, two knights and an orc had already passed on.

He still took a moment to help the survivors adjust to their new life, exchanging a few encouraging words before leaving them to the tender mercies of the healers.

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"That went about as expected," a soft voice came from behind him.

Leonard didn't react, having recognized Amelia's presence the moment she slipped into the atrium. She appeared from behind a column, arms folded, as calm and unreadable as ever.

"Yes," Leonard said, turning. "Just the beginning, indeed."

Amelia's brow creased. "And it will only get worse."

Leonard shook his head. "I doubt Bernard will continue sending out scouting forces to be slaughtered. If I know him…"

"You think he'll change the game now that you've proved our men are still superior. That he'll adapt." She finished for him.

Leonard nodded. "The total loss of that forward unit was a probing strike. He'll see now that we can handle smaller detachments. He won't risk more useless skirmishes."

She hummed in agreement. "Either they muster a larger offensive, or they find a more cunning approach. One that hits us harder."

Leonard exhaled slowly, remembering the days when Bernard was part of the Heroic Party—a brilliant fighter, always analyzing the battlefield. "Yes. Something big is coming. We need to be ready."

Amelia studied him a moment, then dipped her head. "I'll inform the War Council to prepare for anything."

He gave a curt nod, mentally mapping out the best ways to fortify the city, how to use the allies they'd secured, and how to ensure the mages had enough time to weave their wards. Meanwhile, Bernard would also be planning, likely with greater resources at his disposal. The next few days would be crucial.

The day was bright, nearly oppressively sunny. Leonard stood in the watchtower by Hassel's northern gate, scanning the distant horizon. A rhythmic hammering echoed behind him—repairs to the city's battlements continued. Dozens of laborers, overseen by several mid-level mages, formed an almost unbroken chain of stone and mortar.

His reflection in the chipped mirror, fastened to a post, reminded him just how tired he was. His immense endurance meant it didn't show, but he could recognize the heaviness in his own eyes. The War Council had spent the previous night discussing strategy, ultimately concluding that if Bernard intended to force a siege, the revolution would need more time to fortify. Should the Royal Army advance with full strength, the casualties could be immense.

We would need to sacrifice many to slow them down. Or I would have to do something terrible.

The watchtower door creaked open. Amelia stepped in, "We have a lone rider coming in from the enemy lines."

Leonard's eyebrows rose. "Interesting." He turned to follow her down the stairs.

They stepped onto the rampart walkway. From this vantage point, Leonard saw a solitary figure galloping across the farmland, dust kicking up behind the horse's hooves.

This must be Bernard's second move. He has probed our defenses and will use that intelligence to surprise us.

Hoisting himself onto a section of parapet, he peered north. The rider slowed as he approached within half a mile of Hassel's walls, presumably wary of snipers or hidden wards. A handful of Revolutionary soldiers readied rifles along the battlements, scanning for possible threats.

Leonard hopped down. "Let's go meet him at the gate."

Amelia followed, expression pensive. "Do you think he wants to negotiate?"

"He can't realistically storm the city, even if a siege would be costly for us as well," Leonard reasoned aloud, heading toward the outer gatehouse. "And if he stays idle, we'll keep building our position. He's too intelligent to let either scenario unfold."

By the time they reached the gate, the messenger had stopped about half a mile away. The guard captain on the gatehouse roof raised a spyglass. "He's waiting, sir!"

Leonard ascended a short flight of steps to the battlements. From there, he saw the rider more clearly: a man in standard Royal Army gear, without any weapons drawn. The man craned his neck, scanning Hassel's walls. Once he spotted Leonard, he urged his horse forward at a brisk canter.

Some of the revolutionaries bristled, gripping guns or bows. Leonard raised a calming hand. "Hold. Let's see what he has to say."

The rider continued until he was about a hundred feet from the city's outer walls. He produced a scroll from a leather tube slung at his side, unfurling it with a theatrical flourish.

Leonard sensed the tension from the watchers on both sides. He was certain that whatever was said now would be known to the rest of the city by lunchtime.

The man took a deep breath, then shouted, his voice surprisingly resonant: "Hear ye, the words of Bernard De Luminier, First Lance of the Kingdom of Haylich, champion of the King's justice, addressed to Leonard Weiss, Traitor, and champion of the Revolution!"

Leonard exchanged a glance with Amelia. The messenger's voice echoed across the fortifications, no doubt carefully chosen for volume.

The scroll's next lines poured forth: "Your talk of sparing the land from conquest rings hollow when your actions bring violence and rebellion. If your cause is just—if you truly believe you fight for the good of the people—then come forth and prove it. Let us pit champion against champion so that the heavens might judge whose ideals are righteous, and whose are illusions."

Leonard felt his pulse quicken. A duel wasn't what he'd expected. The message continued:

"If you shy from battle, you acknowledge your aggression is baseless. If you cling to the notion of waging war upon your own people, so be it. But let this be a final chance to spare countless souls from needless bloodshed. We challenge the Revolution's champion to meet ours in honorable combat."

The messenger paused for breath, then concluded, "Signed and sealed, Bernard De Luminier, First Lance of Haylich, sworn Paladin to the King, under the eyes of heaven and man."

A hush fell. Soldiers lined the parapets, some frowning, others whispering about the meaning of this.

Amelia exhaled softly. "This reeks of a trap. He must know he can't beat you in a fair fight."

Leonard shrugged, stepping forward so the messenger could see him clearly. "Sometimes, calling a bluff is in our favor. Besides, if Bernard thinks he can do something cunning, I'd rather confront him head-on than let him keep maneuvering in the shadows."

He raised his voice to address the messenger. "I hear the challenge. I accept."

A ripple of surprise went through the Revolution's ranks. Some looked ready to protest, but Leonard's calm demeanor silenced them.

The messenger carefully rolled up the scroll and placed it back in the tube. A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face. "Then the First Lance awaits you. In three days, at midday, near the old orchard six miles into the neutral zone."

Leonard nodded. "So be it."

The rider bowed from the saddle. "If you fail to appear, it will be taken as an admission of your cause's cowardice."

Leonard merely waved a hand dismissively. "We'll be there."

That seemed enough for the messenger. He wheeled his horse around and galloped away. The watchers along the wall let out a collective breath. A few cursed under their breath at the possibility of a trick. Others quietly admired the man's nerve.

Amelia glanced sidelong at Leonard, her expression half-exasperated, half-amused. "You agreed before anyone could try to talk you out of this, and now it's too late to back off."

Leonard cast her a wry smile. "If it's a trap, we'll just have to break it. If it's not, a duel might let us deliver a terrible blow to the kingdom's morale."

She inclined her head. "And if they have something prepared just for you?"

Leonard's eyes hardened. "I won't lose."

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