The camp of the lords of Messenia , with the High Marshall conte leading it , sprawled across the plain like a bustling, though still temporary city. Hundreds of tents dotted the landscape, arranged in neat rows and guarded by a wooden barricade that ended with spikes at the top and at the base outside of it .
The camp was alive with activity: soldiers sharpening their weapons, squires feeding the horses of thier masters , and quartermasters barking orders as wagons of supplies were unloaded near the center. Cooks stoked fires, filling the air with the scent of roasting meat and boiling stew, while horses were tethered to posts near the cavalry section, snorting and pawing at the ground.
A lone rider approached the camp at a swift pace, kicking up dust as his horse galloped across the plain. As the rider drew closer to the camp's perimeter, his silhouette sharpened against the sunlight, causing the guards at the gate to notice him.
