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Eve of War

Chapter 18

Castle Hes 1081VP

Like an island in the sea, the stone castle rose up, strong and indomitable amidst the tent city that stretched for as far as the eye could see. We are at the ends of the earth, thought Sergeant Jolis, as he stood on the battlements looking out at the gathered tribes of the northern Heskarians. For weeks now they had been coming to this far flung outpost of the Janterian Empire. The fortress stood at the confluence of two rivers, the Hes and the Callin, an ancient, sacred site for the tribes. For centuries the tribes had gathered here to elect their overlords and hold their religious ceremonies.

This was such a gathering, the choosing of a new high-king and all the implications that brought with it for the Janterian governor. Jolis looked down at the camp and wondered about the coming days. The king choosing had begun four days before, and according to Heskarian tribal law the new king must be elected within five days of the start of the council of chiefs, or the proceedings would be abandoned for a further year. The noise rising up from the tent city was deafening and emanating from its center boomed the dull, dread beat of a thousand drums. That sound, ominous in its steady rhythmic beat, had started on the first day of the council and had continued incessantly ever since. Fear, Jolis could taste it in the air. He was a veteran of the city-states war and had fought on that calamitous day at Dogemaar. He could sense the tension and pent up violence from the Heskarian tribesmen.

A soldier, young and inexperienced joined him on the wall.
'What do you make of it, Sarge?' he asked, anxious eyes searching Jolis's face.
'I wouldn't worry to much, lad. Until the Heskarians learn to use siege equipment we do not have much to fear from them,' Jolis replied.
'The lads are...' the soldier was saying when Jolis cut across him.
'Now don't you mind the gossip mongers. Just keep your eyes sharp up here and report anything unusual to me,' Jolis said, clapping the soldier on the shoulder.
'Yes sir.'
'That's the spirit.'

Leaving the sentry Jolis made his way down to the outer courtyard. Standing grouped about an open brazier, a dozen men of the Burgundian tribe silently whetted their cavalry sabres, an act that disturbed Jolis more than the sight of a hundred thousand tribesmen gathered outside the castle walls. The Burgundians, distant and rival cousins of the Heskarian tribes acted as scouts for the Janterian garrison and he was glad of their presence

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