The infantry of the 200th men squadron of Iron Peak County, [Peter Buniel], did not know where to go, and his centurion, [Tamas], would not allow him to ask any questions.
Bunir in the old language means dwarf, fitting for him as he was born short-statured. Therefore, an officer, who got a headache just from hearing "Peter," registered him angrily with this apt nickname.
Before setting off, everyone received a stick, and the dwarf got one as well.
The centurion strictly ordered everyone to bite down on their sticks like horses with bits, not allowing them to fall out. If one did, it meant a whipping.
There was no pre-battle speech. The centurion's face was overcast as he spat out one sentence, "Whether you're worth three hundred acres depends on today!"
With that said, he waved his hand.
Biting on a stick, the dwarf hoisted his spear and set out.
The squad moved through the forest without any real path to speak of; the slightest carelessness could cause dispersal.