Ptolemy didn’t need a map to find where the camp had been set up. He had been hearing the cracks of black powder going off since dawn, echoing through the city streets.

On the dark green plain outside the walls was the camp, stretching out for a mile along the riverside. Hundreds, maybe thousands of tents were pitched, with smouldering campfires giving off thin trails of smoke.

The sky was bright and blue without a cloud in sight. An ibis was flying in lazy circles some way off.

When Ptolemy reached the camp he saw that most of the soldiers were only just beginning to crawl wearily out of their tents, tiredly strapping on their gambeson and tying their leather bracers around their arms.

“Where is your commander?” Ptolemy asked the most aware soldier he could find.

“Who asks?” the soldier said scratching his thin beard.

“Nassos, Senator of the People of Konstantyne and Commander of the Armies.”

“Nah, Nassos is a younger fella ain’t he?”

“I am his representative.”

“He’s ah… probably not at his tent. Probably at the practise range. Loves to shoot early in the morning. Not hunting, mind you, just shooting. At a wall, at a stack of hay, what have you. Over that way.” The soldier pointed in the direction that the blackpowder sound was coming from.

Ptolemy made his way up there, passing marching columns of halberdiers, wielding their fierce weapons in both hands, clad in puffy costumes with bright blue and red patterns and feathered caps. Ptolemy wondered how they managed to fight in such a getup. Perhaps the gold would have better been spent on proper soldiers, not maintaining the princely attire of these jumped up stage actors.

At the range, Ptolemy found the commander, Captain Ferros, just as he had been described – tall, bearded, with scraggly long brown hair and a big smile that never left his face. His beard was not so wild as his embroidered costume which was even more flamboyant than that of his soldiers. He was eagerly shouting firing instructions at his men who were lined up in front of a dozen hay stacks. The stack in the middle had a smiley face painted on it.

“That’s the leader men. Aim for the leader. Always aim for the leader. Fire!”

There was a great eruption of crackling black powder as the weapons of the soldiers ignited. The targeted hay stacks exploded, with straw flying through the air. When it subsided, however, the smiley face was still perfectly intact.

“You idiots. Reload!”

Ptolemy approached the commander, “Greetings, I am here on the behalf of Senator Nassos.”

The commander turned to Ptolemy, “You’re the commander of the city guard I presume?”

“No. I’m Ptolemy, a captain of the guard. I was sent to discuss-“

“A captain? The Senator himself should be greeting me after I marched all the way down to this sweltering shit pile of a country. I came here for the sake of my brothers in faith, to end that fruitless war that you started so that good holy men don’t have to continue to die for the sake of some dishonour done to some Consul a half dozen generations ago. And they send a captain to treat with me!”

“As you say, but I came here on behalf of the Senator to discuss issues of… security… with you.”

“Who’s security?”

“The realm’s. Senator Nassos requests that you remain encamped here to dissuade any treasonous sentiments among the people. The city guard is only able to do so much.”

“So I was hired to serve as a constable, a justicar?”

“It is not so, Nassos requires that you merely remain outside the city walls. The mere proximity of your soldiers will dissuade trouble.”

“Oh, so I’m your scarecrow. A pumpkin on a stick.”

“You will be paid.”

“Let us… put this aside for a moment. Perhaps we can come to an agreement over lunch.”