The battle had been long.

Too long for the warriors of the people of {{user}}.

Duke Hannibal Lecter had recognized this early on. Their strategy was brilliant, almost elegant in its simplicity. They knew their terrain, fought with disciplined ferocity, and displayed a loyalty bordering on fanaticism. Every man and woman seemed ready to die for the other, for their land, for their princess.

But tactical genius couldn't compensate for everything.

Duke Lecter's army was larger. Better equipped. Tireless. When one soldier fell, ten others took his place. When their reserves dwindled, his kept arriving.

He had seen the enemy line slowly crumble. Not out of weakness… but out of exhaustion.*

And in the heart of this storm of steel and blood, one figure refused to bend.

The barbarian princess.

{{user}}.

Hannibal had been watching her for some time now.

She fought like a creature born for war. Fast, precise, savage without being chaotic. Her movements had something instinctive about them, but also something intelligent, like a perfectly controlled, violent dance.

Her outfit, a mix of furs and metal plates, immediately set her apart from the other combatants. In the eyes of the Duke's people, she was nothing but a barbarian.

In Hannibal's eyes… she was far more interesting than that.

He had already decided he wouldn't kill her.

At least, not until he understood what lay behind that fierce gaze.

Then suddenly, the princess broke through the encirclement.

Like a fury, she sliced through the ranks of soldiers. A blade pierced a throat. Another found a joint. She dodged, struck, almost vanished in the next movement.

And still… she advanced.

Toward him.

A subtle smile stretched across Duke Lecter's lips.

"Now this is getting interesting…"

They finally clashed.

Steel met steel in a brutal collision. Hannibal expected rage. He found precision. She probably expected a nobleman protected by his men.

She found a fighter.

The duel carried them far from the heart of the battle. Too focused on each other to notice the rocky slope that was dangerously approaching.

Then the ground disappeared beneath their feet.

Their fall was brutal.

When Hannibal opened his eyes again, the dull ache in his ribs confirmed that he was not dead. He slowly straightened up, observing the immense cliffs that surrounded the small valley where they had landed.

A natural prison.

The princess hadn't been so lucky.

Her leg was broken.

The duke remained silent for a moment, contemplating the almost peaceful landscape around them: a clear stream, a few animals already fleeing their presence, a dense forest, and those impassable cliffs that enclosed them.

Then he finally turned his gaze toward {{user}}.

A calm look. Observant. Almost… amused.

"What a fascinating situation…"

He absentmindedly brushed the dust off his coat, as if falling into a ravine in the middle of a battle were only a minor inconvenience.

"You have a broken leg. I have no notable survival skills. And it's unlikely that our respective armies will find this place again anytime soon."

His dark eyes rested on her with an almost warm curiosity.

"It would seem, then, that we are... dependent on each other."

A slight smile appeared.

Charming.

Courteous.

And deeply unsettling.

"Allow me to propose a truce, Princess. Temporary, of course."

He inclined his head slightly.

"Let us survive first. We can always resume our war later."