Iphiclus was a veteran of multiple wars, he had spent years fighting under others command, and at one point had been a soldier under the overall command of the man he now attempted to eliminate. Yet he had never once noticed the female Hritian warrior in any of those battles and wars, what he had forgotten was that although the Scholar may have been commander of the army, the army itself was made up of multiple city state forces. They may have marched as one, but often they had their own customs, training levels, mustering policies, for a leader overall command of an army was akin to herding children.

Every single city had their own goals and aspirations, glory, and ambition often trumped sound strategic policy. There were many times where an army would be forced to fight on unfavorable terrain because a subordinate commander refused direct order, engaging an enemy on their terms rather than the other way around. During the multiple wars with the Althai federation, the native warbands, or even during the League unification war, the troops from elsewhere failed to perform at a level adequate for the Scholar.

These failures which were often forgotten entirely by the nobility required someone else to rectify the problem, this was the role the Scholar’s private forces and the armies of Temrenos played. The frontier had always been and still is a dangerous place, even though the Scholar has been credited with bringing a semblance of peace to the region, a well-trained citizenry is always needed to combat the horrors of the Jormani forest. So, it was only natural that an elite soldier of the most elite force within the League possessed capabilities far exceeding rank and file or even experienced veterans.

Iphiclus had no time to really ponder these realities, his attention preoccupied with defending against the bone rattling swings and precise thrusts of the woman’s weapon. Her full set of gleaming bronze armor, and blood encrusted iron spear was exactly the image one might have in their mind when imagining a vengeful amazon. The swings would sometimes curve inward from all angles, transforming into a thrust mid attack, a motion that would seem impossible if he did not experience its fury with his own body.

Sweat poured down the man’s neck and back, he could only curse his luck, before the battle he had been confident in his strength and technique. Yet even he could tell that the woman opposite him was not giving her best, her movements calm and collected with not a hint of hurry. Each swing was accomplished with the minimum required movement, once again showcasing the immense strength and dexterity hidden below the surface.

Iphiclus’s eyes were struggling to keep up with the swift attacks, his body in tatters, hundreds of cuts and bruises marred his body. That which was underneath his army was unlikely to be much better, at this point the man could barely raise his spear, yet even so the fight in his eyes remained. If one was to glance at his exposed legs, they would notice the unholy shade of blue, it covered almost every visible area, whereas his horse was completely untouched. His crisp maintained officer’s armor sprayed with red, his own blood ruining the once pristine bronze cuirass.

Maatilani had grown bored with the exchange, words were unnecessary as the facial expressions revealed all, now she moved to end the beating, as the duel could no longer be considered a fight. She thrust her spear forward aiming to pierce the beaten and exhausted man’s neck, yet by some stroke of fortune he turned his body at just the right time, the spear striking and shattering the wooden carving around his neck instead. Then without warning he lashed out, screaming at the top of his lungs, the thrust was aimed well but the weight of the spear threw off the attack. Instead of striking Maatilani’s chest it grazed her forearm, drawing just a hint of dark crimson blood which quickly stopped flowing.

That would be his last hurrah, as there was no more flame left upon the candle, and Maatilani responded with a crushing blow that smashed the man’s left arm. He screamed in pain as the bone shattered from the impact, the useless limb flopping in the air as he fell from his horse. It was at that moment that all life, all fight had left him, a thin line of tears streaming down the sides of his cheeks as he continued mumbling under his breath.

“Now, Now… No need to get all teary eyed. Did you have fun? I know I did… hopefully Maati did not break you too much.” The Scholar peered down at the broken man. It was reminiscent of the way a child may observe an insect, one of interest, but with the understanding that they held that life within their hands. “Nothing to say… surprising. You were so talkative earlier. To be honest it hasn’t even been five minutes… I was expecting more after all the bluster. No matter, there will be plenty of time for questions later…”

The Scholar dismounted his horse, handing the reins over to Maatilani as he approached the downed commander. He knelt next to him and removed his weapons and helm, making sure to look the man in his fish like eyes. “Good night, friend… We will have plenty of time to get acquainted later. Be glad Maatilani convinced me to keep you and your men alive, as opposed to simply slitting your throats right here and burning your bodies. For now, I have other tasks to deal with… but I’m sure we will find a use for you…” A wide condescending smile painted the man’s lips, granting the downed foe with a couple of parting pats on his right cheek before having his men haul him and the others away to be detained.

Now that the task of dealing with remnants was over, the Scholar started on the next, retrieval of the loot. One of the riders was tasked with watching over the prisoners, with orders that should they attempt to flee he was free to shoot them dead. With the prisoners themselves tasked with stripping their former comrades of all weapons and armor under the watchful eye of their supervisor. With the other two remaining outriders ordered to go out and retrieve any uninjured or lightly injured horses they found along the way, and if the opportunity provided any enemy deserters.

Just as both Maatilani and Caedyrn were about to make their way towards path uphill, they were met by one of the outriders that were sent earlier to help the defenders atop the hill. He was galloping dangerously downhill, an action he would never have chosen unless the situation called for it. The Scholar’s eyes immediately focused on the pathway to the plateau above, it was clear he had noticed the implications of the rider’s haste.

Understanding and guessing at the possibilities, the Scholar decided not to wait for the rider and instead galloped towards the path with Maatilani in tow. Together with the rider they would make for the plateau as quickly as possible.