Chapter 8 - The Duel of Oakhaven

Seeing his vanguard falter, Duke Moros flew into a blind rage. Spurring his massive warhorse forward, he bypassed the chaos of the battlefield, aiming his heavy lance directly at Emilia, who stood entirely unprotected in the center of the field.

"Die, witch!" Moros roared, charging at full gallop.

Darius lunged forward to intercept, but Emilia held out her hand, stopping him. She stood her ground, watching the charging duke with absolute calm.

At fifty paces, thirty paces, ten paces—just as the razor-sharp tip of the lance was about to pierce her chest—Emilia stepped smoothly to the side. With blinding speed, she reached out and grabbed the shaft of the moving lance with her bare hand.

The kinetic energy of the charging horse jerked violently. The heavy oak shaft shattered like kindling, and Duke Moros was catapulted out of his saddle, flying through the air before crashing hard into the dirt.

Before he could scramble to his feet, Emilia was standing over him, her shadow falling darkly across his bruised face.

Moros coughed up blood, looking up in sheer terror as he stared into her luminous eyes. "Mercy..." he choked out.

"Mercy is something you and Aldric forgot how to give," Emilia said coldly. She pressed the sole of her boot gently against his chest, pinning him to the earth. "Your army is defeated, Duke. The war is over."

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Across the valley, seeing their commander unhorsed and surrounded by beasts, the remaining soldiers of the Iron Legion dropped their weapons to the ground, raising their hands in surrender.

The battle of Oakhaven was won without a single civilian life lost. The tyranny of the old guard was broken once and for all.