"Ugh, my head," Morgan moaned as he sat up from the stiff barrack flooring. "Okay, Morgan, what did you get yourself into?"
It took a few brief seconds to realize the slight chill in the air against his arms. He was without his tactician coat, something that gave him the confidence to be just like his mother. He was left in his thin striped undershirt as he scanned his surroundings, noticing that there was a familiar pile of clothing in the distance.
Except that it just dawned on him that his coat towered over him like an insurmountable mountain.
"Okay, Morgan," he repeated, "what DID you get yourself into?"
What seemed to startle him more than being withkut the cloak was that he seemed to have absolutely no memory of how he shrunk.
"Not again," he sighed under his breath, "amnesia can't be a reoccuring thing."
Just then there was a slight tremble in the ground, not necessarily violent, but it caught the aspiring tactician's attention as he turned to the doorway, his jaw dropping at the sight of--
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