A small pavilion had been raised on the open ground between the half-built camp and the city walls.
The first rider had carried Lord Avar's request for a parley, a request Alpheo had readily accepted. If the matter could be resolved without bloodshed, so much the better; it would free precious time for the next stage of his plan to bind his new conquests to his homeland.
Currently Alpheo sat in the shade beneath the pavilion's canvas, a low table before him set with a flask of wine and several cups, it wasn't anything elaborate but the wine was cold enough to provide some coolness from the air heavy with the dry heat of high summer.
"He's coming," Jarza murmured.
Alpheo's gaze followed his friend's to a banner emerging from the city gate, the colors snapping in the breeze.
