Chapter 1 : 𝙽𝚎𝚠 𝙶𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍
𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜
The convoy rolled into Dartberg just after sunrise, engines growling through the stillness of the small town. Curtains twitched in quiet houses, dogs barked once before growing bored again, and then everything settled back into the same muted silence that seemed stitched into Dartberg’s very soil.
James Hearting stepped down from the back of the truck, boots hitting the gravel with a thud that felt too loud for a place this calm. The air smelled different here—cleaner, colder, and strangely empty. After months in the city, the absence of traffic, crowds, and chaos felt almost unreal.
Around him, the other soldiers climbed out one by one. Every face looked the same shade of grey: pale, drained, as if sunlight had been nothing more than a rumour where they had come from. Sleepless nights, stress, and cramped living quarters had carved shadows under their eyes. Even the strongest of them moved stiffly.
James dragged a hand across his forehead. “Welcome to the middle of nowhere,” someone muttered behind him.
He didn’t disagree.
Dartberg stretched out in front of them—rows of plain houses, a tiny main street, and farmland fading into the distance. It was refreshing in its quiet, but dull in a way he couldn’t quite describe. A place that felt paused, like it was waiting for something to happen.
“Hearting! Move it!” a voice barked.
James grabbed the nearest crate from the truck and followed the rest of the unit toward the storage containers set up near the temporary base. The metal boxes were cold to the touch, their doors screeching as they were dragged open. Inside, shelves lined the walls, waiting to be filled with equipment.
Crates thumped down in neat rows. Boots scuffed the dirt. No one spoke much; they were too tired, too hungry, or simply too overwhelmed by the sudden, eerie stillness of Dartberg.
James worked silently, muscles aching with each lift. The routine movements were calming, something familiar in a place that felt anything but. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the town was watching them—curious but cautious, like it wasn’t sure it wanted outsiders.
When the last of the equipment had been packed away, the unit assembled in formation, their lines not as straight as usual. The exhaustion showed. A tall, broad man wearing a cap stepped forward—the commanding officer, the one in charge of overseeing operations in the area. James didn’t know his official title for this deployment, but everyone simply called him Commander Hale.
Hale scanned the group with a sharp, assessing stare.
“You’ve all had a long trip,” he said, voice steady and clipped. “This area is quiet, but don’t let that fool you. You’re here to maintain order and respond to any issues that arise. We don’t know how long we’ll be stationed in Dartberg, so stay ready. Keep your heads clear. You’ll receive further instructions when the next orders come through.”
His gaze hardened.
“And until then? You’re dismissed. Stay within the perimeter. Rest. No wandering.”
A tired chorus of “Yes, sir,” followed.
The formation broke apart. The men drifted toward their temporary quarters, bags slung over shoulders, heads low and heavy. James lingered for a moment, letting his eyes sweep across the quiet town.
It wasn’t much.
