At the observation post
Sergeant Borl, as liaison officer keeping track of the Camps, had led the
officials to the spot he has chosen for them to monitor the final maneuvers,
and what was usually a most entertaining mock battle. The Sergeant moved busily
around the various mounts (from fancy horses to humble donkeys) and milling
visitors, unloading folding stools and setting them in position.
Among the gathered guests
were General Thron, as representative of the army, the Herald, as
representative of the King, and Sekk, as formal Witness to the proceedings.
These three stood together, waiting for the seats to be set up. In front of
them was Colonel Drim, who appeared cool and deferential. But the Sergeant
could see that there was a slight hint of tension about him. His future career
was depending on how this show played out, and what his superiors thought about
it. As Borl finished setting the stools up, Drim formally indicated the seats
with a military gesture.
“Here you go, my lords,” he
said. “A comfortable observation point to watch from.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” Sekk
smiled. He sat down stiffly in the chair on the left. “O-o-oh,” he groaned
theatrically. Not that he wasn’t really feeling pain, but he knew he was on
stage. “These early morning mists aren’t very kindly to old bones.” He smiled
at the ludicrous idea that anyone could think of him as elderly – which he
manifestly was. Thron, with an air of quiet authority, took the seat in the
middle and the Herald sat on the left. Sekk looked around brightly. “Now, what
are we looking at here?”
“Ah. Well.” Drim began. His
tone was explanatory, as to a civilian, or a child. “As you can see, we are at
a mid-point between the two divisions, or Kingdoms, removed a little, of
course, so as not to be in the way between them. To the West, on the left …”
-he pointed with his baton- “… you can see the lights from King Korm’s camp.”
He turned to Thron. “A fair leader. Technically correct, sir, but no flair for
command, I’m afraid.”
“So you’ve said,” Thron
observed drily.
“Yes, sir.” Drim turned
approvingly. “Now, to the East, in the shadow of the hill there …”
The Herald wrinkled his
nose. “The hill of the Stone Tombs?”
“Uh, yes, sir,” the Colonel
cleared his throat, trying to breeze past the subject. He hurried on warmly.
“That is the camp of King Nast, who leads in points this year. In every actual
conflict and competition, he has taken away the victory. A master of strategy,
in my opinion.” He shook his head. “A shame for poor Mister Korm, but perhaps
he shouldn’t have been a King in the first place.”
The Herald furrowed his
brow, chasing an elusive memory.
“But wasn’t he nominated by
…”
Sekk interrupted him.
“I must say, Nast’s camp
doesn’t seem very well organized. Look at all those straggling fires!”
“He doesn’t need quite so
many, your Reverence. It’s all due to his rather daring tactic of using the
Stone Tombs to protect his rear. Not actually crossing the wall, of course,” he
added reassuringly.
“A most effective maneuver,”
Thron said drily. “Of course, it could only work on his fellow Morgs.”
Drim tensed. “But the principle
might be applied in other situations,” he said.
“Always depending on if you
could find anything that Ogres hold sacred, that is.” Thron’s tone was sarcastic.
“Different
deeds for different needs, General.” Drim’s voice was bland. The other Morg
snorted.
“Oh, look!” Sekk cried,
pointing to the camps. “Something’s happening!”
“Ah. It begins. Keep your
eyes on the battle flags, gentlemen.” They all strained through the indefinite
morning gloom to where the banners could be seen hanging limp and colorless in
either base. A rim of brightness was showing in the East, and the campfires are
going out. Drim smiled.
“The first army to capture the enemies’ flag is the victor, of course!” His smile turned to a sneering smirk, unseen as the others peered out at the opposing armies. “This should be a good fight, my lords.” And by good, he thought, I mean short and predictable.
Notes
The Herald, of course, vaguely remembers that it was Nast who nominated Korm in the first place, but he can't quite locate the fact.
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