Spring 1076 of the Mero's Calendar

There's still some patches of snow in the shadows of the forest, making the soil constantly wet and muddy as it slowly melts. It doesn't stop his son Nivis from running between the longhouses of their village, highly excited by the visit of all the tribes’ warriors. With his mop of disheveled blond hair and his face red by the cold spring air, he truly is the perfect picture of a happy kid, and seeing him like that always makes Nibotus’ heart swell with pride and love. It’s just so nice to be back home. The fiery twilight sky above his head, the smoke smelling of sugary sap, the wind whispering between the branches of willows, birches, and poplars… All those little things that make him feel whole and secure. 

And still, he longs for the creaking canoes on a calm river. For the buzzing dragonflies and the croaking frogs in mating season. For the calls of ducks and geese coming back from the south as buds freshly open in dots of tender green. All the things his ancestors named as theirs on the Nir's banks, three hundred years ago. He's not the only one to feel that pull. If it had never been there, he wouldn't be surrounded by those men, ready to kill and die for a dream they so desperately want to live. 

- Any idea when the walking cadavers will join us?

Bukeres’ comment is received with chuckles, and Nibotus quickly makes an example of the Lynx Tribe chief by pinching the back of his neck. The man immediately surrenders, squealing his excuses under the thunderous laughs of his companions, and Nibotus judges it good enough to let go.

- Do not talk about our allies that way. They get offended quickly and we can not afford losing their help.

- I still can not believe you succeeded in convincing their queen. 

- Well, let is say that sleeping with her son may have been a good motivator.

- I knew it! I have bet on it since the day you left for the mountains!

Another round of laughter follows Aturi's exclamation, some going as far as mockingly calling the Deer Tribe chief an all seeing druid. Still sulking from the sermon he just got, Bukeres is the only one not joining the teasing. Instead, his face nestles into the crook of Nibotus’ neck, still clingy for affection after months of not seeing each other.

- So, what is the name of this new lover?

- Diamond, but it is not his birth name.

- Oh, a druid? 

- Yes, but it is not the same as ours. They do not abandon their name to take the one of their chosen spirit. Their second name is more of a title, and they do not disclose their first to outsiders. It is the same for their queen, I never got to know her outside of her rank.

- The Namalas truly are opposite to us. Their women lead, the spirits talk to their men…

- At least they listen to them, instead of kneeling for the fickle attention of gods.

Somber nods follow Mivaren's words as the Bear Tribe chief stares at the fire with open disgust, surely imagining their enemy in the flames. The atmosphere doesn't have time to dip for too long, fortunately, because Nivis suddenly jumps out of nowhere in a high-pitched roar to climb on the back of the man. This dissolves into playful wrestling, Mivaren easily overpowering the four years old to suspend him upside down by the ankles, to the delighted screams of the kid. Joining the fun, Bukeres extricates himself from Nibotus’ warmth to tickle the child mercilessly.

- Dad, help! Help!

In a heartfelt laugh, Nibotus comes to his child's rescue, taking him in his arms. Nivis hugs his neck for dear life as the man kisses his forehead, and still clings to him as the king sits down again, curling himself on his lap in the clear intention of staying there for the rest of the evening. It is getting late after all, the shadows of twilight growing denser around them. 

Seeing that the kid is now hogging all his father's attention, Bukeres sighs dramatically before leaning against Mivaren. This earns him a tender chuckle from the tall man as he wraps an arm around his slim waist. This is something Nibotus has seen more and more with the years, and honestly, good for them. It's nice that the tribe chiefs are getting close together, instead of just tolerating each other for the sake of their loyalty to their king, or worse, starting to compete for his affection. 

- Dad, one of the bear men said that you never won a duel against Mivaren.

- That is true, Nivis.

- Then how did you become a warlord? Are you not supposed to be the strongest to lead men?

- That is the Kar tradition, yes. But sometimes, chiefs can recognize other types of strength and give their loyalty for it. Even to a man who lost to them in fair combat.

- What other type of strength? Do you think I could have it? 

Bukeres snickers at that, and is promptly silenced by Mivaren nudging his leg with his knee. Fortunately, Aturi is gracious enough to come to Nibotus' rescue, ruffling the kid's hair to get his attention.

- I was the first one your father asked to duel. Do you want me to tell that story?

Nibotus doesn't have to hear it, for all the memories are already flooding his mind. It was only four years ago, but it already feels like a lifetime. Nivis was on the cusp of being three months old, with feeble arms raising to grip on his beard when Nibotus picked him up, and the first day of summer was steadily approaching. That’s when he knew he had to go and meet with his destiny, leaving his tribe behind to visit all the others and accept their challenge. Naively, he had started his journey with the Deer Tribe, thinking that the spirit of the wolf would make his adversary an easy prey, but forgetting that a hunter is nothing without his pack. 

- … and that is how your father got absolutely destroyed. Which is why even when you are stronger of body, and a good seven years younger than your adversary, your energy is nothing against experience.

Nivis’ face is scrunched in a frown as Aturi finishes the vivid description of their duel. That serious expression is almost as adorable as his bright smiling face, and Nibotus can feel another wave of fondness swelling his heart at this view.

- I was an arrogant man freshly stepping into adulthood, with a dream way too big to grasp alone. And because I refused to back down, I hurt myself so badly that I became incapacitated for an entire season.

- But then how did you convince him? That does not make any sense…

- What got me was the determination of your father. He gave me a great challenge, pushed himself past his limits despite the humiliation. So as a sign of respect, I decided to take him under my own roof until he could recover from his injuries. That is how we got to talk, how we got closer, and how I realized that even in his most vulnerable, the fire in his eyes never falters. And that is the quality of a man I am ready to follow into battle.

Of course, that version glosses over a lot of intimate moments that are not for young ears, and a smile blossoms on Nibotus’ lips as Aturi takes his hand as a silent nod of those cherished memories. Those are what started it all. Even if the tribes weren't united back then, words would still travel pretty fast. So when Nibotus got sturdy enough for his next duels, curiosity had gotten the other chiefs, all of them wanting a taste to confirm the rumors. And now here they are, surrounding him with their unbreakable loyalty. Aturi of the Deer Tribe, so perceptive of the hearts of men. Mivaren of the Bear Tribe, the gentle giant. Bukeres of the Lynx Tribe, always ready for mischiefs. And Kamav of the Auroch Tribe…

Well, now that he thinks about it, Kamav has been strangely silent all evening. Even his laughters had not gained his eyes, and now that Nibotus is looking closely at him, he can see the melancholy in his posture, and the way Aturi sometimes squeezes his knee in discreet support. It is enough for the king to know what's about to be said the moment Kamav stands up to make his announcement.

- I will not come back alive from this war.

The finality in his voice can only mean his druid told him about the spirits’ whispers. They never lie, no matter if it’s visions of the past, the present or the multiple futures ahead of them. And if a probability is too high to ignore, chances are it is the destiny that awaits them. In a solemn silence, the king and his chiefs raise their tankards to the life of Kamav and the sacrifice he’s willing to make for their people. There’s many more warriors tonight that received the same fate from the spirits, and still decided to join them for the battles to come, because they know their presence might be the way to save friends, brothers, and so many more. The proof of it is in the fact that no other chief had received that terrible premonition, and Nibotus remembers well the words of that Mero general three years ago. This time, there will be no prisoners, only death, and the king knows his chiefs will not falter to cowardice and run for their lives. If so many will survive, that means they will come back victorious, with a river to feed them until famine becomes a long forgotten reality. 

There have been so many deaths already. Young ones that never get to the age of ten. Old ones that never see past the age of forty. So many tragedies that it’s difficult to keep tears to shed. It just leaves emptiness, and the understanding that it is the price to pay to be alive. But Nivis is still young, and even if he’s seen his share of burials, he cries every time. Tonight is no exception as he jumps from his father’s laps and runs into Kamav arms for a hug, sobbing into the man’s chest until exhaustion. Nibotus hopes that after the war, there will be only death of old age to take away their people, so that his son can keep his heart full of emotions for years to come, instead of becoming numb with grief like them. It takes some time, but the child finally falls asleep, and the rest of the discussion is whispered over the embers of what’s left of their fire. 

- My tribe already knows. We made the rituals to find my successor before your call to rally.

- Who won the duels?

- Majen. A strong warrior and a kind man, destined to survive the war. He is well loved by my people and by the spirits.

- That is not a name I remember. How old is he?

- He only saw twenty springs, that is why he did not battle by our side during our first assault of the Meros. He was too young back then.

- Twenty springs… Is it not the same age as when our king became warlord?

- Yes. That is why I have high hopes for him. He has the same flame as you, Nibotus. Together, you will bring back the Kars into their glory days. That is my belief. 

That’s what finally brings Nibotus’ vision into a blur. Still, a smile finds its way on the king’s face, touched as he is for receiving so much trust. He already knows he will do everything to honor it. But the moment is broken way too fast when a terrifying shrill pierces suddenly from the depth of the forest. As if hundreds of women are screaming in terror, with such force that it feels like the entire village is surrounded. It’s unnaturally long, high-pitched, trembling in his ears and erasing every other thought, leaving every hair on his body standing and blood pumping fiercely in his veins. Brutally stirred up from his slumber, Nivis starts to wail, as do all the other children whose families promptly pull into the security of their homes.

Then as suddenly as it started, the forest is silent again. Except for the sound of hundreds of footsteps cracking branches and trampling leaves. Soon enough, white silhouettes of silver hair and draped in heavy furs pass the tree line, guided by a grey man with colorful beads in his braids, and carrying in his hand a large ceramic whistle. Their allies have made their entrance. Nothing could stop the march of war, now.