The man looks at us, and Arthur bows his head a little in respect. "Sir," He calls out to the Officer, who responds with a nod.
"I assume you are here to join us on the frontline?" The officer asks, eyeing the two sacks of letters that Arthur is carrying.
Arthur quickly responds with a "Yes, sir," and without another word, he hands over the letters for the officer to inspect. After a brief inspection and some muttered words between them, Arthur turns to me and says, " We have to walk from here on out; air raids prevent any transport."
He then marches off towards the back of the line, where I follow him shortly afterwards. As we reach our spot in line, I see that everyone is ready to march forward. Arthur turns to me. "Your place is next to the officer; you are prohibited from walking next to us because of the guidelines," he says apologetically.
I nod, trying to understand the protocol. I have never received any proper training; when I signed up, they told me they needed Mages immediately and that they would find another way to train me. That missing training is painfully obvious now. As much as I would have liked to walk alongside Arthur and the other soldiers, I didn't want to cause them any trouble, so I walked to the front of the line.
The landscape around us is desolate and barren, with only occasional trees and shrubs dotting the otherwise empty terrain. The sky above us is gray and foreboding, with dark clouds gathering on the horizon. I can feel the tension in the air as we march forward, with every soldier on edge and ready for whatever lies ahead.
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As we walk, the officer next to me starts to speak, his voice low and serious. "I have to know what you are capable of; if we are lucky, we won't be near any airbattles and we won't be noticed by enemy planes. But if we are not lucky, I have to react fast."
I nod in understanding, trying to hide my nerves. "I can mainly cast defensive magic like the mandatory barrier spell; I have a time to cast of about 30 TTC , but I can also do some offensive spells if needed, Ice Bolt,for example,or that I have a TTC of 5 seconds," I reply, hoping that my skills will be enough to help protect the group if necessary.
The officer nods, his expression unreadable. "Good to know; a bit basic and slow, but We'll need every advantage we can get out there," he says before falling silent again. I wince a bit at the second part of the comment, the reminder of the reason why I am lacking being my deceased master.
We continue marching for what feels like hours, the only sounds being the shuffling of boots on the ground and the occasional rustle of equipment. I keep my eyes trained on the horizon, scanning for any signs of danger.
Suddenly, a loud explosion rocks the ground beneath our feet, and I can see smoke rising in the distance. The group immediately picks up their pace, and I can feel my heart racing with adrenaline.
The officer turns to the group, his eyes serious. "Scatter, keep a low profile; if you see a plane or a wyvern rider, don't shoot. I repeat, don't shoot. Stay low, stay silent." He turns to me. "If I give you a sign, you have to put up a shield." We need to move quickly, and I don't want any casualties," he says.
Before I can say anything, his gaze turns to the sky, and he points up. My stomach drops as I see what he's pointing at: in the distance, against the backdrop of the darkening sky, are dots moving slowly but steadily towards us. Sirens start to howl in the distance as we realize what those dots are: enemy planes coming.
As if on instinct, everyone starts running for cover, scattering all around and ducking behind any kind of obstacle they can find. The roar of engines becomes deafening as our enemies draw nearer and nearer. As much as I would like to keep running, my feet seem glued to the ground as panic grips me like a vice.