Joab went into his tent, exhausted.

Keeping up his stature of war and moodiness was draining.

Giving a speech about leading men to their death in a sick game didn't help either.

He undid his belt and sword and looked around his small but comfortable tent.

Joab then fell to his knees in a posture of prayer, and began to whisper something in another tongue.

He looked up at the sound of laughter.

Through the cracked opening of his tent, he saw his two younger brothers, Abishai and Asahel, smiling and laughing.

Joab then smiled his first true genuine, heartfelt smile for that day.

At a camp not too far away, Abner entered his own tent.

He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes, thinking of the men he lost with that fool Amelik,

and the bloodshed that was going to occur to the men he just chose.

It is all changing.

Two houses over the same kingdom. One house was blessed and definitely winning the war, and that was not the one Abner currently served.

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Abner paced back and forth in his small tent, wondering and thinking.

He then also looked out the crack of the back of his tent. His head tilted as a HOODED and ROBED figure walked into his tent quickly.

They moved so fast, they were like an assassin or spy.

But Abner didn't pull his sword. He laughed.

"A messenger from the king. Today of all days."

All of the king's messengers were hooded with long robes. They were born into it; raised to become messengers without fear or malice.

Full devotion and faith to their king and their ideals. Most never saw their faces; if one did, they didn't live long enough to hear about it.

"Listen. And listen well, dear Abner. There are strings and forces being pulled. Today, I am not from the king."