Nations - MA, CBM 1.6, max lvl 6, NI, Assimilation - Olm/Man and Louist/Ulm win!

[Olm]

It was almost noon. Wulfhere, the Lord Warden, was late. He just hated to wait, and rather let his opponents do so. He was late, but not too late. Admittedly he had the shortest distance to travel, as the Arena is located in his homeprovince of Livenmark. On the way to the entrance he thought about the things to come. He was chosen by the Mistress to fight for his nation in the death match competition. A great honor, sure, but he could not be proud about it. The war against Pangaea went not so well, he heard. And not one item of power could be spared to raise his chances in the competition. So he went with the usual gear of his caste. What enemies would he meat? Black Knights of Ulm, armored to the teeth, and perhaps with a magic weapon? Or one of the Chariots of Arcoscephale, that could just trample you in the dust. Or perhaps some mages? He did not fear, but he did not give himself a great chance of survival either. Death comes to everyone, and his death would probably come soon.
Wulfhere entered the arena just in time, and met a surprise. He expected lots of visitors to watch the fights and he expected to see the champions doing some final training. But nothing of that could be seen. The Arena was almost empty. There was only one person present. A grizzled old veteran stood in the midst of the fighting pit, wearing an old, battered armor, a black helmet and leaning on a strange looking trident. His face looked somewhat sad, but the look brightened just a little bit as he saw Wulfhere.
"So one came at last!" he greated. "My name is Hector, and I have been in possession of the Champion's Trident for almost 30 years. Now I thought it would be a good idea to pass it along to younger folks. But as it looks, I am almost the only one who thinks this a good idea." He forces a thin smile and looks around. "Well, the time is up, and you are the only challenger. So what are we to do?"
Wulfhere could not believe it. All the other nations did not send anyone? Nobody took the challenge? Perhaps the war went even worse for the other nations? So he would live the day!
"Well as you came all the way from....?" Hector asked. "Ah, just a ten minutes march from here, across the street and than into merchants lane and....." "Yes well, I don't want to know that exactly." Hector interrupted "At least you took the time to come. So we can as well do some sparring. I might be old, but I still have some tricks I could show you!"
And this they did. The two trained the whole day, and man did Hector know some tricks. When the sone set in the east, Wulfhere was bruised and beaten all over his body. But he really really learned a lot.
"You did well, young lad" Hector said. "Now you should belong to the best fighters in the world. And now you really deserve this!" With those words he handed over the Champion's Trident, took one last look, turned around and left the darkening arena without looking back once more.
Wulfhere stood there for a long time, looking at the trident, touching, feeling, caressing it. He thought of what might come, and how he and his new weapon would serve the Mistress. And he thought about the other nations, that missed an opportunity. The arena already lay in utter darkness when he finally left and directed his strides home. Great deeds were awaiting.