The third morning of the siege broke with a quiet, terrible finality. The fortress walls were a ruin, pockmarked and scarred by two days of relentless bombardment. The Vexin defenders, though they had held the line, were a grim testament to the battle's cost. The air inside the fortress was thick with the smell of smoke and fear. On the field below, the enemy camp was no better. The King's Guard had suffered big losses and their wounded lay in long, bloody rows, a shocking sign of the price General Valerius was willing to pay.
From his position on the walls, Damon watched Valerius. The General, his face a mask of cold fury, knew his men were at their breaking point. His victory was not guaranteed, and the siege was costing him more than he had anticipated. He looked at Damon, a new plan forming in his cruel eyes.
Damon looked at his exhausted men, his gaze settling on each of them. He saw their wounds, their fear, and their unwavering loyalty. He looked at Isolde, a woman who had taught him that strength was not just in steel, but in the heart. He knew there was only one way to end this. He had to face his wife's demon himself.
He descended the stairs, his heavy armor clanking with a somber rhythm. He found a fresh charger, a powerful, black warhorse, and had his best armor brought to him. As he mounted his steed, the men of the King's Guard looked on in silence. A lone Vexin warrior, a ghost from the mountains, was riding out to meet them.
Damon rode to the center of the field, a single banner bearer behind him, and looked at the army of a thousand men. He looked at General Valerius, who sat on his black horse with a cold, triumphant smile.
"General Valerius!" Damon's voice boomed across the valley, a single, powerful challenge that cut through the morning air. "You are a coward who hides behind your numbers! You are not a man, you are a butcher! If you have the honor of a King's Guard, then let's end this now! You and I! One-on-one! Let the gods decide!"
Valerius, his face a mask of contempt, laughed. "I will not waste my time on a savage like you, Vexin! But I will send you a man who can teach you a lesson in honor."
With a nod from the General, a man of terrifying size and strength stepped forward. He was a champion of the King's Guard, a giant of a man with a scarred, brutish face and a great axe that looked as though it could cleave a horse in two. He did not speak, only grinned, a cruel, mocking smile that was meant to break a man's will.
Damon, a man of large size himself, looked small in comparison to the brute. He knew this was not an act of honor, but a trap. Valerius would not risk his life on a duel, but he would send his champion to do his dirty work for him. Damon's challenge had been answered, but not in the way he had hoped.
The two men faced each other, a single-combat that would decide the fate of the siege, the Vexin fortress, and the war itself. The two armies were silent, waiting for their commanders to make their final move. The challenge was set, and the fate of the House of Vexin rested on a single blade.