The briefing was still not over. There were perhaps some surprises in the composition of the teams. With thirty two deaths yesterday, perhaps the higher-ups were having some difficulty completing the list of registrants. Was it important to Moa? In truth, not really. Certainly, more rookies often meant more dead at the end of the day, but a glance at the team when it entered the battlefield would give him the answer. So he quickly forgot about these conjunctures which were still premature at this hour and he looked outside.
Through the window, he saw the enemies' army which was already standing in place. These men looked really good.
The two armies wore fairly similar uniforms, drawn by the same stylist but with different colors, sufficiently contrasting for distinguishing them, including on a black and white television set. Colors were the best way to distinguish the troops of each camp even if a clause specified that if there was too much mud and a real risk that the outfits were covered with earth, wearing a helmet or a chasuble became mandatory.
Fortunately, such weather conditions were quite rare. The coalesced army wore uniforms of a rather pale green, the color of royalty. The other army wore dark garnet uniforms as a tribute to their main patron, the Grenati family, who subsidized the army for more than half their budget. This army even bore the name of this family.
The Grenati family was the greatest fortune of their country, and at the world level, it placed honorably in the classification of the richest people.
It was a veritable industrial dynasty, several generations having continued the work of their ancestors.
The first family member to shine was Tirde.
Starting from nothing, he started his window hinge manufacturing company. He quickly grew his business and by a particularly aggressive method, some would say mafia methods, he had managed to establish a virtual monopoly in the activity. He left the reins of the family business to his son, who cleverly decided to diversify activities towards the stairways. The following sons became friends with the powerful of their time and nothing could stop the expansion of the Grenati family, especially when they decided to embark on the profitable weaponry market, in a somewhat hot period of history where conflicts multiplied.
By obtaining numerous public contracts, the company was today very flourishing, especially since access to sensitive information enabled them to systematically be one step ahead of competitors, buying and selling companies at the right time, which was insider trading, but you didn't rub yourself against the Grenati family if you cared about your life.
At the beginning of the conflict, the Grenati clan did not want to get involved in the war, considering that the problems of the nations were not the problem of their family, and especially because they did business with the majority of the belligerents. Over time, however, the government of their country demanded that they stop arming their enemies, at the risk of nationalizing their activity.
As a sign of good faith, they put their money into the war effort. Stopping the sell of weaponry to coalesced army, especially the third regiment was sure to cause a downfall of financial revenue but the politics convinced them, explaining they could retrieve a part of these revenues with the free advertising the patronization of the army could lead to.
Several family members took up positions in the army, at strategic hierarchical levels, such as Gelkeur, who became generalissimo.
…
Suddenly the door to the officers' room opened, and Moa turned around.
It was not for him.
A man was kicked out like a trouble-maker from a night-club; he really didn't want to go out. It was not cold, however, and he wore the uniform and all the attributes of a corporal in ceremonial dress, his crossbow on the left held by an orange belt and a beret of the same color.
This orange in ceremonial dress was the color assigned to corporals in the coalesced army, which suited Moa well because it suited the green of the uniform quite well, unlike the turquoise worn by captains. This color code was a trick so that the civilian population could know the grades without paying more attention to the gallons which were sometimes difficult to decipher on distant shots, even onto high definition TV.
He was wearing the emissaries' white scarf.
The emissary had a special role in the armies. He was the one who was mandated to negotiate with the other parties. Each regiment had one among the coalesced, because for logistical reasons it was more practical than bringing a unique emissary from a frontline to another.
In addition, the emissary changed every day, drawn by lot, which prevented him from taking the big head.
The functioning in the Grenati army was a little different, the emissary did not move, it was a fixed-job held by Sirhod Grenati, the son of the generalissimo, who was expected to become at least minister at the end of the war.
In the morning, the emissaries participated in the draw.
Moa greeted the passage of his emissary who did not pay attention and continued on his way.
He was in his own world and this world was sad.
As always, he had received directives; an envoy did not choose alone, it was too heavy a charge for a corporal, at least in the coalesced army. Today, he absolutely had to keep the ground, oriented in a southwest to northeast direction, it was better to find himself in the west, in the direction of the prevailing winds. The sun was masked by a thick cloud layer and there was no risk of having it in the eyes. On the other hand, there were gusts of wind, up to 20 km/h and the poorly streamed projectiles of the coalesced were sensitive to headwinds, risking missing their target.
Moa went over to the window to follow the scene.
Even if he was going forward, his emissary's advance was slow, heavy; this was an important moment in his life. The center of the field was nearby. He almost turned back, but noticing the presence of an execution squad, he came face to face with Sirhod, who held out his hand, as protocol strongly suggested.
The latter laughed heartily in the company of the new referee. Heavy suspicions of corruption by the Grenati family weighed on the former referee who had been forced to resign. He was in fact a minority shareholder in the Grenati family consortium and strangely received sums far in excess of the dividends he could claim.
The referee was always dressed in pink, a color prohibited in armies because it was deemed too ridiculous for soldiers. He could thus be identified with certainty and even if he could still be accidentally hit by a lost projectile or shot by a novice soldier who was too stressed, this generally made it possible to avoid it.
The referee was slightly far away from Moa but he could still read his name written on his back due to his exceptional eyesight, the man called Dadans. It was not an unknown name on the coalesced earth and a feeling of dread took hold of Moa. He waited until he turned around and his fears were confirmed. As he was afraid when he read the family name on the back of the referee, it was Pom Dadans, the king's former son-in-law.
The story was pretty sordid. The king's daughter and Pom had met when they were teenagers. After she became pregnant, Pom had to marry her. She miscarried, which made no new heir to the throne. The couple did not love each other, it was common knowledge, but as it was necessary to save appearances, they pretended.
The king's daughter became pregnant again, and the pregnancy did not come to an end either, but Pom had some doubts about his wife's loyalty. Indeed, according to the dates, he could not be the father, monopolized by his profession of yesteryear, it did not add up.
The population began to chatter somewhat, he was called the most famous cuckold in the kingdom.
Finally, he obtained hard-to-refute evidence of his wife's adultery and filed for divorce. He asked, of course, for custody of their two dogs and of the goldfish, the usufruct of their common apartment which he had paid for, and alimony. He finally got a hundred percent of the wrongs. This story was famous; enough to be taught in school to make children understand that it was not advisable to attack the royal family.
Moa hoped that Pom did not have too much animosity towards the kingdom and that he could remain impartial. Otherwise, his task would be really perilous. When a camp had the referee on their side, they could more easily flirt with the rules, it was a serious advantage for anyone who was rogue, and the Grenati army was full of swindlers.
The coalesced envoy greeted Pom; the referee repeated the quote he was to say and tossed the coin that was to seal the fate of the day's game.
This piece was a unique model developed exclusively for this front. The size of the coin was larger than a normal coin to be visible by distant cameras, which however required specific training to handle it effectively. One side was pale green, the other garnet, which increased the visual side of the sequence.
From the moment it was launched, the dice were almost thrown; it would not be long before the chopper fell. The throw was perfect, a parabola more than a meter high during which the piece made rapid rotations on itself so that it was difficult, even impossible without the help of a slow motion to know which face was up or down when Pom caught the coin in mid-flight.
The referee was holding the coin in his hand. It was impossible, unless they were rude, to see if he was manipulating it.
The suspense grew, the coalesced emissary stood on tiptoe as if to see over a wall that he would be the only one to imagine obscuring his field of vision. His face showed that he was either impatient or he wanted to urinate.
Pom was standing with his back facing Moa and it was impossible for him to see the color of the coin when he opened his hand.
The color of his coalesced emissary's face gave him the answer by changing color, until he got confounded with the color of his uniform. Moa understood that the Grenati had won the draw, which was not dramatic in itself but already gave them a psychological advantage.
The Grenati's son had a broad smile, as if to say to his enemies, well done for you. His army exploded in a manifestation of joy.
A scenario he had seen so many mornings.
His fears over the course of this day were confirmed. An arbitrator whose impartiality was doubted before the jousts even began, a draw contrary to their interests… there was only one miracle left to save them.
An escort of three men headed for the center of the field to bring back the emissary.
They returned slowly to the headquarters. Suddenly, the emissary took advantage of crossroad, pretending he made an error to branch off to the left and he started sprinting. His race did not go far; he was caught and tackled to the ground by his escort.
Moa took pity on him, it was not a rare scene; the emissaries who did not fulfill their mission were traditionally sacrificed, it was a custom which could seem barbaric but a custom nonetheless. The emissaries knew this and systematically tried to flee, which often animated the pre-game.
A delegation from each of the two armies finally approached.
They never sent all the troops, because it was too long and because everyone could not be simultaneously on the image, so they usually chose the most telegenic soldiers.
The two rows stood face to face, standing at attention. The Grenati marching band, whose army had won the previous day's jousting, sang its national anthem, a popular song Gelkeur was a fan of, and then it was the turn of the coalesced marching band. The two marching bands concluded with a common hymn, representing the front and making it possible to indicate to unsophisticated viewers that we were well to the northeast.