The smell of blood and soot hung around him as he walked down the field among the corpses of all the fallen soldiers and horses. Several crossbow bolts were lodged in his shield, and blood stained his surcoat and sword.
It was already over.
King Joakim sheathed his sword as his soldiers began to loot enemy corpses and bury the dead. He had led 300 troops against the enemy and finally defeated them, but the cost in lives had been steep. Men and women from Ravernstern, Sarleon and the Fierdsvain all marched under his banner, as well as Noldor from the fabeled city of Elacrai; many families from these former nations would be in mourning upon the army's return.
While the Empire and D’shar Principalities remained independent from his fledgling kingdom of Pendor reborn, this enemy wasn’t from either nation; nor was it the Snake Cult or any outlawed knights, but the mustered adventuring companies of Oswald de Fleur. Joakim had been looking for this man for years, and when he heard that de Fleur had been sighting pillaging settlements near the Fierdsvain coast, he immediately mustered his forces and cornered him on the Valonbray peninsula.
“Sire, over here!” came a shout not far from him. Joakim saw Sigismund Sinclair and a Noldor knight drag a battered knight forward; they forced him to kneel right in front of the Pendor king.
“Is this him, Sinclair?” he asked his companion.
“Yes, this is the bastard you’ve been looking for.” Sigismund said to the king. When de Fleur made to struggle to his feet, the dark-clad warrior punched him in the face, and spit on him for good measure.
Oswald de Fleur's cruelty and brutality towards those he defeated was nigh-legendary. He did not just let his company kill the men and rape the women - he had it done in gruesome fashion, and ordered children to be killed as well. Even renowned enemies of established nations such as Wolfbode the Slayer didn't behave in this way; Joakim had conversed with him after taking him prisoner, and even released him knowing Wolfbode would be back simply because he respected the leadership and unity the Slayer commanded among his people. de Fleur was another story, and Joakim intended to enact far harsher justice.
Before he could speak, several Ravernstern rangers rushed toward de Fleur and attempted to beat him. Sigismund and the Noldor quickly separated them.
“This man needs to die! He and his men plundered my home and killed my parents!” one of the rangers shouted, pointing his finger at de Fleur. Many other soldiers shouted for de Fleur to be executed, in fashions similar to those he had used on their families and friends across the lands of Pendor.
“Silence!” Sigismund shouted. The soldiers piped down, obedient but still seething.
Joakim looked at the mercenary and grinned coldly at him.
“I've been looking forward to the day when the great Oswald de Fleur cowers before me,” The young Pendor king said loudly. The mustachioed man rose to his feet and glared.
“Oswald de Fleur cowers before no man, peasant or ki-- ” before he could finish, de Fleur staggered back as Joakim struck him with the back of his gauntlet.
“I don't remember giving you permission to speak freely, you son of a whore,” Joakim said as he kicked de Fleur down onto the ground. By this time most of the king's surviving soldiers were gathered about, watching the proceedings. Although he was beaten down, de Fleur sat up and spit at Joakim’s feet.
“If you're trying to threaten me, you're wasting your breath. Either kill me, hire me, or let me go about my business."
There was an uproar among the soldiers for this disrespect to their liege, but Joakim called for calm. He turned to Boadice and gestured her forward; the proud ex-queen of Veccavia strode to his side with eagerness, thinking she would be granted the honour of executing this scum. When she drew her bloodsword, however, the king held out his hand for it.
"Sire?" Boadice asked, confused. When Joakim did not respond to her, Boadice sensed something stirring within the young king… she saw his vengeful glare for the first time. There was more than the ravaging of his subjects at stake, here; there was something personal. Joakim looked the sword over for a few moments, admiring its foreign make and quality, before tossing it to the ground in front of de Fleur.
"Pick it up, Oswald," the king said quietly. The mercenary gaped a moment, then looked up at Joakim.
"Is this some kind of trick?"
"Pick it up," Joakim said, louder now. "This is your one chance. I challenge you to single combat - to the death." Gasps echoed around the gathering. "Kill me here and now, and you walk free... as the new King of Pendor."
Outrage once again shook the gathering, and it took a lot longer for order to be restored. Oswald de Fleur rose slowly, the bloodsword in his hands.
"Are you mad? What possible reason could you have to duel with me... do you even know how many mighty warriors I've laid low?! I am Oswald de Fleur, scourge of Pendor! Neither knight, nor barbarian, nor assassin of the deserts has ever prevailed against my skills."
"Oh, I'm quite aware of who you are, de Fleur. This is for Febern."
"What?"
The young king was silent for a moment, gazing at something only he could see. The crowd strained to listen, lest they miss this revelation.
“Twenty years ago, there was a civil war in Barclay which lasted for 2 years. In Barclay there was small village known as Febern, guided by a retired soldier. He was a just and wise man, with a beautiful wife and a son six years old,” Joakim looked back at de Fleur. “The village was at peace, safe from the conflict, until one late night. A company of mercenaries came to Febern and rounded up the villagers, the village elder and his family among them. The man accused the village elder of providing shelter to the rebels without any proof, and ordered his men to slaughter the villagers. He seized the village elder’s son and tied him around a tree, while the elder's wife and many other women were pushed to the ground by the mercenaries and stripped.”
de Fleur's eyes widened as he began to remember, and Boadice shivered as she heard the horrible story.
“As the village elder begged the man to release his wife and son, the man immediately slit his throat with his dagger. The poor boy watched as his father slowly died, while his mother screamed in anguish as she was raped by the man's soldiers.” Joakim’s hands were tightened into fists as he continuing the story, “After their lust was sated, the mercenaries killed the boy’s mother by impaling her with spears while their leader laughed in glee. After that, he ordered his men to untie the boy and bring him forward. He said this to the boy: “If you run fast and disappear into the woods, I will let you go.”
"The boy ran for the woods, but an arrow struck him and he collapsed down onto the ground. The arrow was shot by the leader, who laughed and jeered at the injured boy for being weak and unable to save his parents and the villagers. He and his men then burnt Febern to the crowd, slaughtering all its people in terrible ways and leaving the boy for dead.
"But the boy did not die, de Fleur. He refused to, and at daybreak he was found by a group of knights who nursed him to health." Joakim slowly advanced and drew his own brilliant blade. "The boy later became became a knight himself and voyaged here to Pendor, following rumours that the man who destroyed his life had come here to continue his ways... and stands before you now."
“You…” de Fleur roared as he got up onto his feet, glaring at Joakim.
"Yes, me," spat Joakim, coldly. "This is your chance to correct your mistake, de Fleur - but if you fail, I am going to torture you till you cry for death. I'll make you feel as you have made countless poor souls feel.” With that, Joakim pushed Boadice away and accepted the attack as Oswald charged towards him.
Steel rang against steel as the two mighty warriors fought. The king's men backed away, granting the two the space they needed, for none wished to be caught in the whirl of blades. Oswald de Fleur had not boasted emptily - he was a deadly warrior, and more than once his blade found a gap in the king's armour. Joakim, however, had not scraped from peasant boy to king of several nations on charisma alone; he fought back with all his cunning and skill, and also marked his opponent with cuts and stabs.
"You shouldn't have offered me the crown, boy," de Fleur hissed as his blade found its mark once again. "When I have spitted you like the piglet you are, I will grind this land under my heel with a wrath the people have only seen in nightmares!" He kicked Joakim to the ground and, raising Boadice's sword, swung down for a killing bow.
With every ounce of speed he could muster, Joakim intercepted the strike - and severed de Fleur's hand at the wrist. A cheer erupted from the troops, who thought the duel was at an end. Boadice glanced worriedly at Sigismund, possibly the one who knew most the kind of loss their king had suffered. He returned her glance with a dark look of his own - what was about to happen wouldn't be pretty.
Joakim rose slowly as de Fleur howled in pain, grasping at the stump of his wrist.
“That was for my father, whom you never gave the chance to fight back,” he shouted. He kicked de Fleur's legs out from under him, and slowly drove his sword into the man's groin. The howl turned to a high-pitched wail, as Joakim twisted the blade for maximum effect.
"That was for my mother, whom you violated so profoundly and skewered like an animal!"
By this time, several soldiers had turned away in horror, some even retching. Even Sigismund looked shocked and appalled, but none moved to stop the king. None could find the strength to do so.
Joakim to stab and drag his sword all across de Fleur's body, ripping off his armour so he could slice the most vulnerable areas slowly, superficially, causing the mercenary to scream in ever more horrifying tones. He cut off the man's ears; he slit the tendons in his legs and arms, and thrust his blade in again and again - always in places designed to prolong de Fleur's agony.
"Each of those was for the people of Febern, and my subjects of Pendor, whom you have so casually treated as your playthings."
"And this," cried Joakim at a frenetic crescendo as he raised his sword one final time, "this is for me." This last was almost a whisper, as the maddened young king decapitated Oswald de Fleur and sent his head flying away.
A deafening silence enveloped the field.
Boadice realized that it was over, and retrieved her sword before she approached her king's side. She wiped his blood from her sword and spat upon the handle before wiping it as well, eager to have the villain's foul touch removed from it.
“He got what he deserved, sire. I..." Boadice choked off the words as Joakim sank to his knees, sobbing like a child.
A quick look to Sigismund from her thankfully had the large man waving the soldiers away, commanding them to their camp and to prepare for the journey to Valonbray to celebrate. Boadice then kneeled next to Joakim, reaching out slowly to lay her hand on his shoulder and offer what comfort she could. The road to the throne of Pendor had been longer and more fraught with trauma than she, or indeed anyone, had imagined.
The King of Pendor was victorious but, for now, the boy inside the man wept for his loss.