The Train rumbled through the countryside, passing by emerald fields of grass, farms with windmills spinning lazily in the breeze, and eventually entered a metropolitan area where towering buildings of concrete and bricks filled the horizon. I sat at the back of the carriage, my head leaning against the cool metal of the wall. The other passengers were mostly soldiers, some wearing heavy armor while others had thick fur-lined coats with badges sewn into their lapels. There was an aura of camaraderie among them that was palpable even for an outsider like me. I am a former magician's apprentice and accepted this job for the money; although I still hadn't finished my apprenticeship yet, it felt surreal to be on this journey with these men who were much more experienced than I was. As we continued our regimented ride, I couldn't help but feel both a sense of excitement and apprehension.

I thought of my old master and how he wouldn't have been happy with me for joining the conflict on the borders. Guiltily, I reached for the grimoire he had left me, the last remnant of him that I’d ever have. Although a part of me hoped he would one day understand why I did this, another part was filled with dread - what if his spirit never finds peace in the afterlife because of my choices?

Holding my gaze on the window, I saw tall trees that had been stripped of their leaves and splintered wood. Broken limbs littered the ground as if someone had decided to toss a hatchet at them, spraying the earth in drops of blood. The vibrant hues of wildflowers peeked through the cracks in the earth, breathing new life into dead soil.

I've seen pictures of it on the streets. Big posters with bold letters boasted about it.

The poster was faded and tattered, but the passionate call to action was clear. “PART OF THE MOTHERLAND RECLAIMED, JOIN THE WAR EFFORT.” That wasn't the only reason I joined, though. As a mage, I know that magical knowledge is closely guarded and passed down only within families or trusted covens. It would be unlikely for me to find another mage willing to accept a former apprentice from another mage, especially if the other mage had died. The army offered magical knowledge as spoils of war; whoever defeated a mage earned the right to his grimoire. Though not ideal, it was an opportunity to advance my own magic skills.

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The opportunity to prove my worth and establish my reputation as a competent mage is another benefit of joining the war effort, I didn't expect that to be a problem. But no one is even willing to look at the few trinkets I am able to produce, so money was getting tight.

The army's training facilities and resources, funded by taxes that my master was always grumbling about, seemed like a great chance to further develop my magical abilities beyond what I could do on my own. Military strategists realized the immense power of mages on the battlefield; with their ability to change the course of a conflict, any army would benefit from having them. Money was thrown around to attract even apprentices like me.

The train halted at the end of the track with a loud screech. I peered out the window, taking in the sight of soldiers unloading crates from trucks and pushing them onto dollies. Others scurried past, motioning to one another while shouting orders over the din. This was a logistic base, an active hub just beyond the frontline.

I stepp onto the platform, my eyes searching for guidance. A soldier spotted me and raised his arm, gesturing towards a nearby desk. As I made my way towards it, I noticed he had already gone back to his duties.

The disembodied voice boomed through the empty terminal, demanding documents from new arrivals. The announcement echoed off the metal rafters and swallowed my thoughts. I clutched my papers tightly as I hurried towards the counter, my heart racing with anticipation and nervousness.

I joined a line of other newcomers, each fidgeting with their paperwork and casting nervous glances at the soldier behind the counter. His stern expression confirmed that this was indeed the place where I needed to check in.

As I waited for my turn, I reminded myself to stay organized and confident - a requirement, not an option, as my master would say. My hand rested on the holster of my grimoire, its weight grounding me as I watched the interactions between soldiers and newcomers ahead of me.

Eventually, it was my turn. I approached the counter and took a deep breath to calm my racing heart before presenting my documents. The soldier scrutinized them before nodding his head briskly and waving me through.

Relief washed over me as I stepped past the counter into a new world - one fraught with danger but filled with wonderous possibilities.