“Honor is a hard concept to pin down in terms of value. On one hand, you have people who treat it as more important than their lives, and would rather die than sully their honor. On the other hand, you have people who’d just feed it to the dogs like so much meat scraps.

For me, what matters is whether my opponent’s honor is usable in an abusable way or not. I don’t care for it myself.” - Scipius Cornelius Barca, Famed general and strategist of the Democratic Republic of Caroma, circa 62 FP.

“Sure is an odd custom for you nobles to have,” commented Reinhardt on that sunny afternoon, two days after the final battle of Fort Kazka. On that day, much pomp and ceremony were observed as nobles and knights from both sides met close to the fort, and formed a circle as their leaders met in the middle and formalized the results of the battle. “Reminds me more of the tribes to the north and how they do things, honestly.”

“It’s a leftover custom from the days when we were tribals ourselves,” replied the young Duchess from where she was seated nearby, cross-legged on the dirt, like everyone else. The day after the battle was concluded, a messenger came from the coalition army, who delivered a letter where the current acting commander - a minor noble from a side branch of house Oleysun, distant cousin to the captured siblings - admitted their loss and sued for a battle of honor to settle things completely. “I think when we became a kingdom, our ancestors thought it’s a good way to settle conflicts without rubbing each other’s face into the ground too much.”

“Kinda made sense in that way, I guess,” said Reinhardt as he nodded. He supported Elfriede’s back with his arm, while his wife laid across his lap, still convalescing due to her injury. Not many of his mercenaries were present that day, only his lieutenants at most, as the occasion was more the nobles’. Similarly, the other units had sent their Captains and officers as well, with the majority of their group being knights in service to the nobles instead.

A battle of honor was an old way for concluding conflicts in the late Kingdom of Posuin. It involved a series of one-on-one duels between the nobles involved in the conflict, with a wager set up between them. In such a way, the loser of a battle would either be able to lighten their burdens somewhat, or else, be completely convinced of their loss. Such an event had not taken place back at Fort Kuzi because the nobles of the Bostvan side were all captured or killed by the final battle, and thus they had nobody with the status to call for such an event.

As for the wager, the coalition side had requested that should they win, the captured nobles from their side would be allowed to go free without ransom, together with their captured equipment. Since the wagers were required to be similar in value, Andrea had demanded that should the coalition side lose, they would pay half again the ransom, and the ransomed people would only be sent back with the clothes on their bodies and nothing more.

She herself would be the one fighting for their side on the third and potentially conclusive fight that day, as per tradition, against the acting commander of the coalition army. A battle of honor was typically held as a best of three or best of five, decided by the one proposing, and the coalition army had asked for a best of five.

“I mean, I would love to send one of yours up there to really beat the snot out of them just so I can see the look on their faces and laugh myself to sleep, but sadly, rules say it’s only us nobles allowed to fight for this,” said the young Duchess with a mischievous tone which were accepted with polite laughter by the mercenaries seated by her. “Either way, this is pretty much just for show anyway. I don’t think they have anyone particularly good other than the Oleysun siblings and Maurizio, so it’ll be a wash either way.”

Right then, drums were beaten and horns were blown on the coalition side, as their first duelist stepped to the middle of the circle made by the two groups. The man had the jet-black skin common to the people of southern Posuin, and was dressed in an elegant shirt, the only weapons he brought being the sword and dagger hanging from his belt. As he drew his weapons and waved his sword with a flourish, Reinhardt noticed that he used a long, thin rapier, which was not uncommon for nobles to wield in duels, though they were less effective in real battles.

From their side of the field, Damien Jonas da Nunez walked out to meet the challenge. The second son of Algenverr Duchy wore simpler, slightly loose fitting clothes, and held a spear in his hands. The spear was a tad longer than he was tall, and when he lifted it to a ready position, Reinhardt could tell that the young nobleman was definitely skilled with the use of the weapon just from the way he held it.

“I thought you said he wasn’t that good at fighting?” asked Reinhardt to the young Duchess, pertaining to one of her comments about the young nobleman that she had let slip in the past. The moment the signal for the fight to start sounded, Damien had rapidly thrust his spear at his opponent and drove the opposing noble to the backfoot, as he desperately dodged and parried the incoming thrusts.

“Damien is not that good indeed… compared to most others of his generation in the border, that is,” said the young Duchess with a clearly amused smirk. “That said, it’s mostly because the rest of us are just that much better than him. None of us raised on the border grew up soft, so even he would be able to hold his own against many of the better duelists from the Central regions.”

“I see, so it’s more of a case of looking bad by comparison then,” replied Reinhardt as he nodded sagely in understanding. He had fought alongside the young Duchess and the Lady Griselda both, and indeed, the two of them were good enough that most in his mercenary company would not be their match at all, and they’d even give his better fighters a good challenge. “What was the saying? Born at the wrong time to shine?”

“That’s pretty much it, yeah. Nestor’s a prodigy when it comes to fighting, and of all things, the fucker even had a good head on his shoulders for strategy too. He’s pretty much outshined every single one of us who were born in the same generation as him,” admitted Andrea Utghwes with a tone that hinted at some annoyance, but of a teasing sort. “He even had the gall to look good while he’s at it, which is how he got you hitched to him, ain’t it, Gris? Love at first sight, innit?”

“Andrea! It’s- It’s not like that!” protested the young noblewoman at the young Duchess’ words. While she had a healthy tan and solid build due to her active lifestyle, Griselda still stood out amongst the locals, as her skin was very noticeably a couple shades lighter than even the northerners like Damien. The humans who lived further east, in the Clangeddin Empire, and even the Holy Kingdom, almost looked like different people to those that lived in Posuin, despite all of them being humans. “I mean… I won’t deny that I definitely didn’t mind getting engaged to him, but still…”

“Oh, look, Damien’s won,” said the young Duchess as she cut off her friend and fellow noblewoman’s excuses with an amused smile. On the stage, Damien had just struck down his opponent, as the other nobleman knelt while he clutched his left thigh, where Damien’s spear had landed a deep puncture wound. Damien lifted his weapon high to declare his victory, even as the knights on his side cheered his name.