The consul climbed back up the parapet with a gratified swagger to announce the resuscitation of the talks. Beyond the city walls, amongst the hum and stutter of generators and conversations, a few interested people stood to listen, eyes shaded from the bright morning sun. The army was encamped and relaxed, the majority of soliders tired and worn out from the years of conflict but still belligerent. Amongst them sat Bel Tor, skinny and pale, tending a small fire which heated his platoon's morning coffee as they sat playing cards or maintaining their equipment with oils and polish.
-What's he saying? Darren suddnely shouted at Bel. -Anything worth knowing?
Bel just shrugs and pushes another stick into the flames that are only half-visible in the light.