Chapter 119: The Real Battle Begins
Lara had just finished her breakfast inside the infirmary when the indescribable, otherworldly sounds she’d heard earlier that morning drifted into the tent once more. The strange cacophony tugged at her curiosity, pulling her to her feet.
She stepped outside, the morning sun casting long shadows over the camp. Spotting Angus and Aramis nearby, she approached them.
"Those people did not leave yet?" she asked, her brow furrowing. She craned her neck to get a view of the Gwamuros plain.
"No," Angus replied, arms crossed as he watched the commotion. "They advanced by about a hundred meters. Looks like they’re performing some kind of ritual."
"Ritual?" Lara’s interest was piqued. Without waiting for more, she strode toward the front of the camp, where the entrance of the Sentro loomed in the distance.
What she saw made her pause. A vast crowd sprawled across the field — men, women, and children of all sizes forming a living tide. The older villagers and women carried drums, bugles, and trumpets, their hands weathered and trembling. For some, it might be their first time holding such instruments.
The children, too small for proper instruments, banged pans together like makeshift cymbals. The air throbbed with sound as they paraded back and forth in front of the camp, their rhythms chaotic, their horns blaring toward Northem’s encampment with unsettling purpose.
Lara’s gaze drifted to a group gathered under a shady tree at the camp’s edge. The two Norse generals, Odin and Marlon, and other commanders stood there, their faces dark with contemplation. Slowly, she made her way toward them, her eyes flicking back to the bizarre display.
"What are they doing?" she asked aloud to one in particular.