Three days had passed since Ivan, Cain, and Travis returned to the Darkmane Tribe.
War preparations were in full swing, and the city was in a flurry of activity.
"Hey. The enemy is merely an upstart tribe. Do we really need to mobilize this many warriors?" one of the captains in the army asked.
"I thought the same thing at first, but I heard something from the cavalry division. Looks like Commander Ivan holds a grudge against the Chieftain of the Aslan Tribe," another warrior replied. "That upstart guy not only insulted our commander, but also our chieftain."
"That chieftain sure knows how to court death." Another warrior shook his head. "They say the ignorant are fearless. It must be true."
"You bastards, why are you all slacking off?!" the Vice Commander shouted. "Move those crates to the wagons or I'll have all of you whipped!"
The gossiping soldiers immediately scrambled to follow the order, moving the crates to their respective wagons.
