Upon opening his eyes again, he immediately warped back to the training grounds his double standing outside to greet him. They walked into each other and ‘merged’ into one being. The knowledge of the skipped months registered instantly, as if he knew all along. He then headed to the main hub tent, the others already inside.

“-Machun.”

“Hrmph.”

“Admier”

“Here.”

“Fallion.”

“Present.” he spoke as he opened the flaps

Valder hit patted him on his back “That was close, you almost gave a repeat of what happened to Tali, my friend.” The memory his body double had caused Fallion to inwardly laugh. Tali had been late just barely the month prior, but the Borderal made him run twenty laps around the entire camp as punishment. His body double and Hadvarr had made a bet, Hadvarr bet Tali didn’t finish till dusk, his body double bet he’d finish just around sunset. For once people say Hadvarr relinquishing coin instead of receiving it. The entire time Tali was running, people were laughing and teasing him for being made to run. A punishment normally only in the main training grounds, not the army camps. Tali was silent for the better part of a week after, as well as being the first in the tent for roll call ever since.

“Well, time for our first ‘real’ orders.” Neumien leaned back on the desk, unfolding a piece of paper tucked in her breast plate. “As of Grandis 12th, 756, all platoons of the 9th assault force are to mobilize and be ready for combat. Our destination is the Hurrden plains, where we shall intercept a large enemy force currently on its way to the City of Poius. We are to hold back the invading force, and if possible drive them back. It shall take a total of thirteen days from the receiving these orders to travel to the operation zone. All units are to hear-by pack up up move out in accordance to dwarven march code. Signed General Denos, leader of the Ninth Assault Force.” She folded the leader and put in back in the gap in her armor. “Well, you have your orders, lets pack it up and move out.”

Without a word, everyone filed out of the tent, and immediately began packing up. Tents were quickly taken down and folded into packs, a cart was brought and their supplies were placed on it. Another cart was brought as well, this one would serve as the groups transportation. It was obvious the higher-ups didn’t want tired soldiers in the coming fight if they were to be in carts the entire time.

The loading was relatively quick, within nine hours of the start, the higher-ups had confirmation in all areas they were ready to depart. The 33rd platoons carriages sat in the middle of the sixth column. The marching line itself was around twelve columns to 35 rows, if it were just the soldiers it likely would have been twelve by twenty-eight instead. Hundreds of horses whined and neighed, anxious to be on their way instead of milling about as they were. Far up ahead, a lone horseman approached the middle of the five leading horsemen. This man was the general himself, and after whispering something in his ear, the newly arrived rider turned around whence he came. The general shot a hand into the sky, blade drawn with a single word carrying over the ambient noise of horses, unnerved soldiers, and nature. “FORWARD!” Whips cracked and horses shouted as they lurched forward down the wide trodden path. The dwarves were notorious for ridiculously long roads, and now the reason clicked in the minds of many. Though the dwarves hadn’t been at war since the end of the great war hundreds of years ago, the practice of wide roads for ease of military travel never faded.

The clunking of iron horseshoed hooves, the silent creaking of the wood, the rattle of chains dangling on the side, the light ‘thunk’ sounds from crates slightly bouncing as the carriages rocked like a cradle as they slowly traveled forward. Not a single man spoke for hours, not out of fear, but a strange buzz of unease and excitement stood in the air almost suffocatingly so. There were no words needed to be shared between any of the men or women, regardless of race. At this moment they were strangely united mentally for absolutely no reason, as if some being had them focus on the task that was far ahead, yet so dastardly close. Amongst all the soldiers was a young boy of thirteen, who appeared to be seventeen if one didn’t look hard. He had heard that war was coming and romanticized the chance at gaining honor and glory, he snuck away from his poor agrarian country family to join this fight. He sat there calm, staring ever ahead as the road turned around bends, around mountains, around rivers. This boy would be one of the only accounts with any stock to it, of an event that would be referred to as the down. By its title, one would assume it to be some sort of phenomenal tragedy, one scholars would debate eternally on how it occurred. This was not the case here. It was an event that was simply eye opening. That was this boys simple account of it. Just the words ‘it was eye opening’. The one bit of truth every single person who stood on that field in the middle of Grandis of the 756th year since the signing of the grand treaty that ended a war that seemingly would last aeons, would agree upon. It was simply ‘eye opening’. How one interpreted it as such, was up in the air.

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Its shorter I know, but I felt the ending was perfect for a chapter and the next paragraph would be a perfect opener for chapter 8. Once again please give any criticism you have