A long and loud whistle came from the timer. I smile as the sweet scent of tea fills the bunker. “Tea’s ready!” I yell out. The metal door opens with a klang as two men, dirt covered men walk in, smiles on their faces. Corporal Antonio Varislokov and Staff Sergeant Sergei De La Cruz. Veterans of this damnable war, but they’ve been kind to me. “Good job private! Looks like you can actually get something done.” Antonio joked. I smiled at him. He was the goofy one in our squad. It was just us three in this bunker with the rest outside. I take the tea bags out and place them on a plate.

Sergei walks over to the kettle. He was a big and imposing man, fitting of a sergeant. At 6’5ft and close to 250lbs of muscle, he was a giant. He was quiet and grim, rarely speaking when not giving orders. He was always distant from the rest of us, choosing to eat his meals alone. That’s why I was very surprised when I saw him move to the kettle and take a big whiff of the tea. For the first time since I’ve seen him, his eyes widened and he had a huge smile on his face. “Waffelian Jasmine! I haven’t had these since I was a noble’s guard!” he looks at me and I nod, passing a small metal cup to him. He pours it out lovingly and gingerly takes a sip.

“It’s from my grandfather. Sent straight from home.” I say. “He was a merchant. Had a stash before the war started.” I pour myself a cup and imbibe a sip of the rich tea. The full fragrance hits me spot on as energy fills my tired body. Antonio moves over and pours a cup as well. We sit together around this small metal barrel, drinking tea. It was a moment of peace rarely enjoyed in the trenches.

“You know.” Sergei was the first to speak up. “My wife used to make this tea. Her family was from the border city of Davosk.” He smiles as he sips at the tea. “It brings me back. To before this blasted war. We’d have picnics at the park. She had this enchanted tea pot that kept the tea nice and warm. My two kids would be running around, playing with the other children. It was bliss.”

I lay back in my chair, feeling my joints loosen as I listened to his story. How odd, that this giant of a man, could be such a sweet heart. I look over at Antonio and he’s pouring himself a second cup. No matter. Grandpa sent a lot. I think he meant it for me to share with everyone. Why not? Sergei reaches into his pocket and pulls out a picture. He places it on the barrel and there I see it. Two young identical boys, around the age of 9 to 10 years old, a giant of a man with long and flowing hair and a young woman, in decorative plate armor with gold trims and the symbol of a Bear.

“That’s my wife. She’s a mage-knight, of House Khachenko. She was supposed to be here. Not me, but she’s pregnant. My third child will be born sometime this month.” He sighs deeply. “I wish I could see them.” I sympathize with him. I miss my family as well. “I can’t imagine what it’d be like. Not getting to see your children…” I pat him on the back. “Cheer up Sarge, we’ll be back home before you know it.” I offer him a smile. Just then, the door opens and a soldier with a large satchel on his hip walks in.

“Mail for Corporal Varislokov!” he says and throws a letter at Antonio. He catches it out of the air and waves it back at the messenger. He nods and turns to leave as Antonio eagerly opens it. “Who’s it from?” I ask him. He grins at me and pulls out a picture. It’s an image of a scantily clad woman with blonde hair in white lingerie. “My girl of course! Just got some news from home and some…other essentials.” I sigh and take a sip of my tea. The sergeant looks at him and asks, “You gonna share the news?” Antonio nods and begins reading…

My Dear Antonio,

Last week was my mother’s birthday, though there was little to celebrate with. The rationing has led to us lacking much of the essentials for a party, such as eggs and milk for the cake and wine for drinking. Yet I find myself sipping on an expensive Frankian wine as I write this letter.

You may be thinking “That woman, drinking wine and dining with high society while I labor in the trenches!” Well, that’s exactly what you should be thinking! I was recently invited into a prominent nobleman’s estate for a private performance! It was quite exhilarating but of course, your dear Abigail won their hearts! I only wish you could have accompanied me with your wonderful music. Now that would have completed the whole event! They even had a magician who filled the room with smoke, giving it a perfect ambience!

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Alas, you cannot be here and I have had to ask dear old Mark Anthony for the performance. Don’t get me wrong, he is a wonderful pianist! I dare say your teacher may be better than you, but he is getting quite old. I worry for him sometimes, but I think he was quite happy with the opportunity to be out of the house. Did you know, his grandchildren no longer visit him? They’re too enamored with the foreign inventions! A shipment of enchanted spinning tops which they use to ‘battle’ each other in the streets. Why, I’ve nearly been hit by a few! I gave those kids quite the scolding! At the very least, the others seem to be enjoying more relaxed games.

Albeit less popular, the more relaxed game of Dreadnoughts is still quite prevalent. I saw one of Mark’s grandchildren, I believe it was Dina? Oh the name escapes me, but she begged her grandfather for a set! Now she spends all day playing with the other children and showing off her toy. Poor Mark has only seen her once this week! I keep telling him not to spoil them rotten, but he can’t help himself. Ever since his daughter passed away, he’s been quite clingy to them. I should tell them to visit him more! At least then, the old man would stop complaining to me.

But oh yes! I forget myself sometimes, I visit the old coot as often as I can! We owe him plenty after all, it’s only fair we return the favor! He’s been quite delightful and he enjoys those Cimerian cookies you taught me how to bake! I can never get them to taste as yours do, but he enjoys them nonetheless. It’s only been a month since I’ve had them, but I miss them nonetheless. Mark would love it if you would bake some for him! Yours are, after all, the best.

Ah! My dearest Antonio, I almost forgot to tell you. Recently I’ve been having sickness in the morning. Nothing quite too serious, I assure you, but I took a visit to the healer, just in case! You’ve probably already guessed, but I am pregnant my love! Oh joy, I hope you’ll be around to see our little ones. Now go along now and stop reading! Bring glory to our country, and to our future children.

P.S. I hope you enjoy the little gift I’ve sent you. I’ll be waiting, my love.

Antonio stops reading and looks at us with tears in his eyes. “My friends… I-!” he couldn’t finish the sentence, as he was suddenly interrupted by the loud whine of a siren. “Artillery!” the sergeant yelled out as he scrambled for the machine gun. With some effort, he pulled back the gun and dropped to the floor. I followed his example and did my best to become one with the floor. Seconds later, I could hear the shells dropping as explosions begin to ring out across the line. I could feel the shockwaves as shells after shells began their horrendous symphony of death and destruction. After what feels like forever, it stops.

“Is…is it over?” I say, my voice shaking with terror. The sergeant quickly remounts the machine gun and yells at us to get up. “It’s not over yet! Watch for enemy attack!” As he turns towards the slit in the bunker, his eyes widen. “A fog?” Antonio gets up and walks towards the embrasure, his rifle-spear held at the ready and finger on the trigger. “Is it from the artillery?” As I walk towards him, I spot the crumpled piece of paper in his pocket as I get up. The cold hard concrete sends out a thump as I walk over to them and peek out of the bunker.

I stand behind the two as I look over Antonio’s shoulder. True, the mist is strong and it came out of nowhere. One moment, we had a clear view of the Waffelian lines and the next, nothing. Then, all of a sudden, I remember something. Antonio’s letter. Magician. Smoke. The Waffelian Empire is famous for their mages, there are even rumors that one of the Mage Princes was sent to the front. Could it be him? No. The Imperial Mage Princes are famed for devastating entire battlefields with only their swords and their spells. “It’s magic!” I cry out. I was sure of it “It’s a Waffelian attack! They’re using magic!” The sergeant, without a word quickly grabs the radio, but before he could inform the others, He appeared.

A man in a dashing officer outfit burst out of the fog, a sword in one hand and a swirling ball of purple-white fire in the other. What struck out the most was not the magic in his hand, but in his eyes. A piercing bluish-gray gaze glared back at me. My jaw fell open and my stomach dropped. There’s no doubt about it. A Mage-Prince. I would know those eyes anywhere. It’s been drilled into our heads that if we see a Mage-Prince, we run. He threw the ball of magic straight towards the bunker as I was transfixed by his gaze. Suddenly, I felt a hand pull me back, and with a turn we both fell towards the floor. It was the last thing I saw before the world around me was engulfed in flames.