Dust was everywhere. His eyes stung as he closed them and they stung again as he opened them. Every tiny crack of his armour seemed to be filled with sand. His right arm was sore from swinging his sword, it was aching like mad and the pain that shot up through it with every thrust was hardly bearable. Uttering another inaudible cry he slashed away at the enemy in front of him.

It seemed like minutes and hours ago that he had taken the horse from under the Mongol Heir Khanzada Batudhun. The battle had gone well. Khan Jebuk had been captured by his personal bodyguard, after the coward had fled the field. It had been a good day so far. A perfect day, to be quite honest.

The man in front of him snarled his lips as he attempted a backwardslash against Leopolds throat. He rose is sword just in time to deflect the blow, once again searing pain shot through his arm, momentarily blinding his vision. There was no helping it. He was getting old. He had never been old. He did not want to be old. Die toothless in bed, or die snarling in battle? Leopold had made his choice. A thin smile on his lips he carefully, delicately lets go of his sword. Blocking another thrust at him with his shield arm he grabs for his helmet, which is sent hurtling to the ground.

Air and sound rush in at Leopold and he takes a deep breath, two. He had never felt so alive, so aware of his surroundings, of the battle raging around him. He could feel that they were winning, that his troops were pushing forward. They were so close. His smile ever broadening he looks at the man in front of him and triumphantly spreads hir arms wide. The Mongol can hardly believe it, just minutes ago he was hard-pressed for survival and now his foe offered him such an opportunity. After a moment of hesitation he struck home.

The fool! There he was unarmed and the Mongol had only managed to drive his sword between his breast and shoulder armor, piecing deep but not deadly. He could have made it quick, but he failed. His smile still on his lips Leopold slowly sunk from his horse, his vision blurring. Before the world tilted sideways he could see the head of his opponent slashed wide open by thrust from Rainer. He had been too late and Leopold could almost feel sorry for him.

As his eyesight finally returnd to him Leopold was lying on the ground. Fate had it that he was now facing his own troops. He could see Imperial soldiers advancing towards him. Some seemed astonished, others determined. The news of his demise must have already spread. But instead of discouraging the men it seemed to drive them ever onward, forward against the Horse Lords. The battle was won!

Leopold looked down at his side where with every breath his life was spilling out of him, coating his armour blood red. Looking up again ever so slowly he sees a familiar figure dismount in front of him. Cracking a wide smile he raises his right arm as if in triumph and opens his mouth as though to shout, but only blood emerges as with a last gurgle the life fades from Leopold. Duke of Austria, Greatest General of the Reich!