Euripedes stared directly at Pistos, she watched as Pistos inhaled deeply “General Atio was the best soldier and man I ever knew. More than that he was like my brother and they took him from me. Took him from us. We don't even have a body to bury all we have is his hand, we got his hand from the wreckage of the explosion that killed him, its- I watched Atio die, from afar, we completed the mission but his death wasn't worth it”

Atrophes supported Pistos, patting him on the back as he cried and walked off the stage.

Pistos stood in the front row just staring at the casket, it was embedded with both the military insignia and the Chancellor's cross, it was rare but as evident by the man who was giving the final speech, Hyetnus, Atio was the Chancellor's brother.

Euriepedes turned her attention to Hyetnus; she and the Chancellor had a working relationship, healthy enough. Atio had fought with His Excellency the day he died. It was horrible, and she knew it but Euripedes found it entirely possible that Atio died because he was distracted from the fight.

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Euripedes quickly pulled herself out of the thought, in time to see Hyetnus walk off stage. These thoughts would lead her down a dark path.

Hyetnus was walking towards them and Pistos went up to him.

Euripedes went up to the grave, Atio’s casket was being lowered into it, she knew the casket was empty save for a single hand, she and Pistos had run up and collected the only part of him that wasn't completely decimated.

She stared blankly at the gravesite, thinking of everything that she had lost due to this war.

Almost 10 years had passed since the Trade War began, Gerraria had been struck by famine during the winter of 305 IAE (Independent Antherian Era) due to this Gerraria had demanded a higher price for the Gunpowder exports, violating the Taino treaty of 7 IAE.

And thus began the Trade War, it was the first major conflict since the Continental war in 1 IAE. That had been brutal, of course next to the consequences of that war, this was nothing.

Euripedes moved closer now that the grave had been set, she collapsed onto the grass staring longingly at the headstone.

Despite the Trade War being objectively less deadly than the Continental War, she could not help but wish for the two to swap, for the Continental War was the stuff of stories, legends and myths, yet the Trade War had cost her so much.

As if that which she had lost before had not been suffering enough, now she had lost the man she loved for the second time, the more permanent time.