Great surprise soon dawned on Rhonin's face as a guy twice his size and frame practically ran into his arms like a lost and terrified maiden.
Thud.
The momentum was too much as Rhonin failed to keep his balance, causing both men to trip and fall. The hard floor did little to cushion the impact; Rhonin landed on his back almost getting the wind knocked out of him.
"Marcus, what the hell are you doing, trying to crush me?" Rhonin let out a painful groan and scolded the other man, half serious and half exaggerating, as a grin slowly formed on his face.
"Rhonin, it's good to see you again, after all this time." Marcus laughed loudly, somehow already on his feet, giving his friend a hand.
"Ah, thank you, and it's good to see you too." Rhonin grasped Marcus's hand and energetically jumped up, taking notice of the rest of the people present in the tent.
Curious about something, he took a moment to scan their faces, checking to see if he recognized anyone else.
Sure enough, his suspicions were confirmed.
Same batch as back then, huh.
Rhonin thought back to his compulsory service when he had first met the majority of the individuals currently staring at his loud reunion with Marcus.
Realizing that this was probably done intentionally by the higher-ups.
Soon, his gaze landed on a particular person. It was a woman around his age with dirty blonde hair that she had in a tight braid behind her back, grey eyes and an incredible smile. As showcased by the conversation she was currently, quietly participating in with two of her friends, evidently carefree, he recognized them as well.
Rhonin thought it rude to stare any longer, especially because the other party seemed to sense his lingering gaze, looking around curiously.
Turning his attention back on Marcus, he was about to speak.
"I see you haven't changed much." Marcus uttered playfully, lightly tapping at his side with his fist, taking a mock fighting stance.
Rhonin was secretly embarrassed, but having been caught by Marcus, who was his longtime friend, didn't bother him all that much. So, not letting it show on his face, he chided back.
"Too bad I can't say the same about you. What happened, your daddy ran out of money to sprinkle on your daily dumplings overdose!?" He pointed at the former fatty's heavily deflated belly, finally noticing that although roughly the same size, the man had changed drastically; compared to the last time they had met he had gone from being shaped like a meatball to more like a fortified castle.
"Well, at least I don't resemble a twig about to snap in two." Marcus replied with no mercy, even mimicking the snap with his fists, intentionally making idiotic faces to emphasize the fact.
Engaging in light banter, both laughed loudly, making the situation a little less tense.
Considering the circumstances of a looming war, most people understandably were under a heavy mood, but laughter, contagious as it is, helped lower the level of stress. Paired with the fact that most people present were at least acquaintances.
The tent itself was quite spacious, hosting three rows of beds, ten on each one adding to a total of thirty, exactly the number of soldiers stationed inside. Coincidentally, Rhonin had been the last one to walk in.
Contributing to its rectangular shape, the tent had two entrances on the shorter sides, parallel to one another. It had little to offer in terms of accommodations, paired with the dry and somewhat cold weather, it had an uncomfortable feeling altogether.
Rhonin and Marcus made sure to secure themselves a bed, regrettably the corners were all already occupied, forcing them to be smack in the middle.
Sitting down on their respective mattress, they faced each other and continued catching up.
"About what happened to your father man, once again, my condolences." Marcus took the initiative to comfort Rhonin about his recent loss.
"Thank you..." Rhonin paused.
"He... just worked too hard." Although he had complicated emotions about the man, his death cut deep still.
"Anyway, let's not make this any more depressing than it already is, let's change the subject." Rhonin offered quietly.
Receiving a nod from Marcus, he sighed in relief before diving back into the conversation.
The duo went on for a while. They reminisced, mostly about the old days. The sixty-eighth Dorthean academic institution for youngsters, the army school and now...
They had gone through too much together.
"Man, I know it's probably hectic, managing a business and all, but you could stand to reach out more often, I mean you know it's—" Marcus remarked suddenly, but stopped mid-sentence, as if remembering something crucial.
"Ah, nevermind, I didn't contact you much either so I guess we're even, but I was busy too!" Marcus clearly felt strongly about this as he moved his hands in motion.
Rhonin was taken aback for a second, before bursting out laughing once again.
Wiping the tears off his eyes, Rhonin felt pleased. Marcus had always been like this, and observing his transformation from a young adult who looked like he ate for four families and the man standing in front of him right now, it would be reasonable to assume he had changed internally as well, but that didn't seem to be the case, he still talked too much.
The last couple of years had not been ideal, neither for their friendship nor for anything else for that matter. Communicating with letters, they hadn't seen each other for a long time.
Marcus and Rhonin did not in fact belong to the same class on the social pyramid. After their education was completed, it was a foregone conclusion that they would walk different paths in life.
For his part, Rhonin was never actually bothered by this, accepting it as part of the natural cycle of life. Human-forged connections were not eternal; even among the closest friends and family, there came a time when they would inevitably separate.
On the other hand, Marcus wasn't fond of that truth; he expressed so clearly.
...
Soon, a man wearing a high-ranking uniform entered the tent.
Observing closely, Rhonin recognized him as one of the red-haired commander's subordinates from earlier.
His presence demanded the attention of everyone inside, as they grouped around him.
"I'm Lieutenant Helion Boyd." Among the numerous scrutinizing gazes, he introduced himself.
"I've been appointed as the leader of the eighteenth battalion, of which you are a part as the North Unit." He paused.
Pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back, the lieutenant explained the relevant structure and role of each unit respectively.
Concentrating on the man, Rhonin felt a huge headache, as most of the concepts he mentioned referred back to army school, a time in his life he had little recollection of.
Regardless, the lieutenant continued.
"Concerning the upcoming 'sorting process' the commander informed you about, I would like to give you my advice." He said, a tiny smirk hanging at the side of his lips.
"The actual assignment has been completed preemptively, or you wouldn't be standing here right now..."
"The actual purpose behind the upcoming days' affairs is about you!" Lieutenant Boyd pointed with his index finger to no one in particular. He went on.
"This country has changed, it wants to know you and everything about you..." His voice laced with deep meaning.
"So! When asked, tell the truth, no matter what it may be, as I ensure you if you try to deceive, an appropriate punishment you will surely receive."
Seemingly proud of his lame pun, Rhonin watched the lieutenant turn around to leave before he stopped once again, his back turned.
"Yes, you have heard correctly, this is a gimmick war!"
!!
Before any reaction could set in, Lt. Boyd began again,
"But, if you haven't noticed by now, in life there's always a start, a middle, and of course an end..."
"What we're living today...
is just the beginning!"