Sent August 19th, 1010
7/02/10
Paige,
They finally called a halt order. We’ve basically been running the panzers out of the trucks. Good to have a few days to get shit done instead of trying to fix an engine -on- fire -under- fire. Yale is mostly forests, hills and towns. We’re having a hard time really getting the same speed as in Greifenmarschen, but luckily resistance has been light. These Yale boys have no real fight in them. They either fallback, surrender or waste their lives trying to hold us off. It's the professional mercenaries and Angriver soldiers that are holding us off. I know Landschnekt when I see them, but I’m guessing these green uniformed griffs are mercs too. They don’t speak Herzlandisch, and we keep running into them supporting Yale positions. Good fighters. If we’ve taken any prisoner I haven’t seen it.
We’re on the road to Middenheim. I say road, but honestly we’re kind of just carving a route wherever our pathfinders can spot okay terrain. The trees aren’t so thick we can’t maneuver through, but it’s still slow going. From what I hear, they’re saving the actual roads for the heavy panzers, so our Knight contingent can get through. I don’t even know what order they are, if they’re White Lions, Carmine Shield, Tower and Sword. By the time this gets sent, whatever importance that had will be long gone.
We’ve circled the panzers in a clearing. Our kompanie’s taken a beating, but with a few days to rest and repair, we’re hoping to get our remaining panzers fixed up and going. Losses are light but constant. Every step we take its another rifle behind another tree or in another window, a landmine beneath treads, wing-clipper nets in the trees for our scouts. The panzergrenadiers are getting frazzled from having to stop and clear another hardpoint over and over again. Suddenly I miss Greifenmarsch even more. I know I keep going on about it.
I have another panzer kill on the turret. More Angriver troops tried to draw us into an ambush. Knights of Arcturius fell on the trucks with the grenadiers while the panzer-zerstorer cannons engaged us with their Airbenders. We came out of it okay, but more of those small, constant losses. I only saw the one panzer I shot myself. Once I got him and started scanning for more targets, it was all over. But I got him, for sure.
I’m writing you this next to a fire, under the trees and the stars. As I look up, I can see the sky above. I haven’t heard from mother or Sophie yet. I’m worried. I haven’t heard from Uncle August. Less worried. I haven’t heard from you. But I’m not worried.
It occurs to me I never told you about my grandparents. My father’s family is mostly passed on. My grandfather on his side is living off his retirement from service in Strawberry. He sends word every now and then from his vineyard. Apparently, they can grow fruit even in the winter up there. Not bad for an old trench-hopper. He tries to send idols to help out. Mother keeps refusing.
My mother’s and Uncle August’s parents live in Griffenheim as well. They’re a bit like us, same sort of circumstances. My mother’s father is a factory foreman, clawed his way up from being a line worker. He swears he’ll do it until the day he dies. My grandmother visits a lot. She’s the one who got Sophie interested in books and aiming for higher learning. She used to be a music teacher. Adele Duskwing, the Industrie piano tutor. She was good, in her day. Not Octavia Melody good, but local performance hall good. She tried to teach me, too. No luck, I had absolutely no coordination in the talons. Should’ve been a sign, I guess. Wound up unsuited for anything but army life. Anyway, we see them every once in a while. Haven’t for a few years myself. I should go visit.
7/4/10
Dear Paige,
We got the order to advance again. The rain doesn’t want to let up. Its set us back in our work and trying to deploy. But we’re going once more. It takes time for a whole division to get going, though. And ours is all panzers and trucks and artillery. You can imagine how long it takes just to get the supplies packed up again.
We’re rolling southeast again. The 6th Panzer is ahead, so the worst of the pathfinding is already done for us. I hear scattered gunfire in the distance, so our panzergrenadiers are finding targets to shoot at. We’ve got a clawful riding on our hull, to simplify things in the rain and the mud. It really makes it feel like we’re in one of those epic war stories. I may know a bit better about the fighting itself, but I can at least feel like we’re on an adventure in between. I don’t really read those stories much anymore.
I’m perfectly fine with this cleanup nonsense. The newbies complain about glory and rushing ahead into the fight, but there’s nothing glorious about washing these griffs out under cannon fire. Sure, they’ve got panzers, but they’re so out of date its not a fight anymore. Just struggling and grinding through meat.
We stopped for camp again tonight. The fight’s going on through. Artillery lighting up Middenheim, getting it ready for the 6th. Shells in the dark, bombers in the daytime. Is there going to be anything left of the city by the time we get there? The crew and the unit are in high spirits. Bluetalon gets drunk every night, but somehow it doesn’t screw with his driving. Grimquill’s got somegriff she writes every night as well, doesn’t let me know. Oddly, Sergeant Hellseig has been talking with me more. Showed me a picture of his family. He’s got a wife and three children waiting at home, in Vinnin. I asked him why he keeps coming back. Ten years in, he’s got to have some say in when he stops. But he just shrugs at me and says something I swear I’ll never forget.
“I have been called. And so, I answer. Besides, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I get out.”
I’m starting to wonder more and more about what I’ll do when I get out. Four years in uniform. So much has changed. The Empire needs me more than ever, especially the panzerkorps. But it seems like we’re never going to be done putting down traitors and breakaways. I have two years left on my term. Then I have to decide if I’m checking that second box for another term or going home. If I know what I’ll do at home.
I honestly can’t decide.
7/9/10
Dear Paige,
The (this word has been clipped out by a censor) is gone.
We keep finding stragglers and survivors, but for all intents and purposes, from what we’re seeing the (clipped out) is annihilated. We rode up into Middenheim three days ago, looking to take the place. The (clipped out) was sweeping ahead like usual, and the 41st was holding back until we received the go ahead to clean up behind them. I hate city fights, I really do. It doesn’t matter that this one was a small city. They all have the same problems.
Over the radio, we start hearing things. Reports of contact with enemy troops. The (clipped out) pushing in. Then, next you know, contact with enemy panzers. Reports of losses. A lot of them. Then the channel goes dead. Division kommand likely realized it was a bad idea to broadcast that sort of news in the open.
Then, we get sent in to assist. We couldn’t have been more than a day behind them, and yet by the time we got there, Middenheim’s streets are loaded with destroyed panzers, wrecked trucks and dead griffs. The further we went, the more ruin we saw. Landmines detonated under tracks, panzer-zerstorers blasted out of ambush points, enemy griffs cut down around our burned out panzers. Yale may not have been fighting very hard for this place, but somegriff was. I got a look at one of the enemy panzers up close, and I finally found out who they were; (clipped out). Most of the other wrecks and uniforms have had their logos stripped, but not this panzer. Purple flag of a diving raptor, clear on its plate. Sergeant Hellseig told us somegriff else would handle it. We moved on.
The city itself isn’t big. Not like Griffenheim or Vinnin or Rottendedam. Still somegriff fighting for it. I don’t really care who anymore. I’m more motivated than ever to get stuck in.
Like I said, it’s been a few days. But from what we can tell, the (clipped out) is functionally destroyed. At least fifty percent casualties, which means they’re useless for the front. They’ll need to withdraw for replacements. Which means their job is now our job.
Time for a little old-fashioned revenge.
7/15/10
Paige,
Word came in from the capital. There was an attempted coup by an officer called General Dawnclaw. Kommand is playing it down, but there’s rumors that the Emperor was in danger, and the Regency Council was slaughtered. They say Dawnclaw’s units have been halted from advancing on Romau. Apparently they think those divisions will turn on the Empire. Given what they say happened, can’t blame the generals for once. There’s whispers of what’ll happen when the MfÖS gets around to our unit. They’re calling it the Small Cleansing. But there’s nothing small about this. It’s a purge, plain and simple.
Word on the radio today. They confirmed the coup happened, and that the Emperor and his Regents are safe. Thank Eyr. Last thing we need is -another- succession crisis. And I don’t know what the Empire would do if the line of Grover was broken.
It’s gotten worse since we took the front. Now we’re the spearhead. Ambushes, artillery barrages, panzer strikes. And (clipped out) is definitely here. I don’t know how they got troops and panzers in country, but they’re here. Yale’s about given up holding against us. Its Angriver and (clipped out) throwing everything they have against our advance. I’m up to seventeen panzer kills. We’ve lost dozens of panzers. I honestly can’t tell if we’re winning anymore. We punch through a defensive line, and there’s another one a few miles away from it. Crazy bastards with Angriver cocktails come down from the trees. They’re even strafing us with biplanes. I don’t know if the League is desperate or if they hate us this much. They certainly took the deal from Wingbardy, maybe both.
It's getting harder and harder to write. We don’t even leave the panzers to make camp these days. Just circle up and wait while they bring up the fuel, ammo and parts. We sleep on the move. Rotate stations. They say we’re on the road to Greenback and making good progress. I’ll take Sergeant Hellseig’s word for it.
We’re all at each other’s throats. I swear, if we’re not shooting the enemy, we’ll be liable to shoot each other. Grimquill and I got into it yesterday over how fast she gets my reloads. I almost strangled her before Hellseig punched me out. An hour later, we’re fighting Angriver troops over a river crossing and it's like our argument never happened. It’s insane what’s happening here. I can’t sleep. I can barely eat. Every few hours we’re fighting again.
This isn’t Tartarus, not like what happens in the cities or when we cross the fields of corpses mowed down by machine guns or artillery. But this is a torture all in itself.
7/21/10
They called a halt order. Apparently, we’re only a few days from the Green River crossing. Makes sense. We’re running into Yale troops again. Now they really are desperate. We’ve had to pull back from the assault several times so far, when we’re getting hit hard. But every time we get bogged down, the Reichsarmee calls up another battalion from the rear, more artillery, more air support. Then we go again a day later.
But now the 41st is stopping to get ready for the final assault. We cross the river here, it’s not more than a week before Greenback. We’re supposed to rest up and supply for the push. Everygriff is on edge. We’re being covered by a Strawberry regiment that’s dug in a mile ahead while we get stocked up at this depot. The shot locker is full, the petrol tank is full. So now we’re just waiting. The mud is persistent, there’s a no fly order in place and every night we get drunk to shake off the impending dread we all feel.
There’s new officers walking around. They wear enchanted vests, peaked caps with eye badges, black coats. They’re not commanders. They’re called Vollstrecker. Apparently, they work for MfÖS. Some kind of new morale officers. I heard a rumor they’re field agents, special forces and Knights. All loyal. All watchful. I guess the Cleansing reached us after all. Nothing bad so far. But I’m keeping an eye on these vultures.
I’m watching the casualties getting trucked out. The wounded get brought into the field hospital here, get treated and go. Some of them head back for further treatment. Maybe even go home. Others come back after a few days and they’re on the line again. I’ve seen entire fields full of dead griffs, whole towns leveled by bombers and howitzers. If they’re doing this kind of damage to us, what are we doing to them? How bad are the League’s losses?
Why don’t they just fucking give up already?
7/29/10
Paige,
It’s all gone to shit.
7/30/10
Dear Paige,
I’m writing to you from my hospital cot. Before you ask, I’m okay. Most of me, at least. I was evacuated to Middenheim’s field hospital. The attack on the river crossing didn’t go so well. The enemy was waiting with panzers, panzer-zerstorers and ambush troops. We tried to press on the bridge, and they hammered it with artillery.
I remember the second my panzer died. Zola’s gone. I was tracking a (clipped out) panzer when I suddenly felt like I’d been kicked in the tailhole. Power’s gone, I almost black out, then I taste blood. Hellseig’s screaming for us all to get out. Grimquill and I got out. Bluetalon didn’t make it. Then, we’re out in the mud and muck, Zola’s on fire, there’s machine guns and cannon rounds everywhere. It was jarring, going from feeling safe and invincible behind armor plating to suddenly back in my own skin and that’s my only protection. We take off for friendly lines again when we start getting shot at. Grimquill went down.
Hellseig and I made it back. I grabbed the letters and your picture. But I had to leave the novels. They’re all gone. I don’t know what killed us exactly. I think it was a landmine, or a panzer-zerstorer. But I got a bit banged up. Nothing too bad the doctors are saying. Shrapnel mostly. I’m fine now. Recovering as best I can, which is boring as shit.
It keeps hitting me over and over again. Bluetalon and Grimquill are dead. Zola’s gone. I don’t know what’s next for me. Word is the 41st is still pressing southeast. And I’m stuck here in my cot.
Funny. I thought more than anything I wanted to get pulled from the chaos of the fight. But now I can’t stand being away while the unit keeps going.
8/2/10
Dear Paige,
Turns out, shrapnel wounds hurt like a bitch without the painkillers. And they never last long. The nurses say they don’t want to risk I’ll get addicted to the morphine. So instead I wake up in the middle of the night feeling like my chest is on fire. I can walk, but no luck flying right now.
Word from the front is things have slowed down again. Apparently the (clipped out) was stood down for replacements. Too many casualties. Mostly panzergrenadiers. So the 3rd Panzer is taking the lead. I’m supposed to make a full recovery before too long. Then they’ll stick me in another panzer. Don’t know where.
News from home. Mother is freaking out, of course. Gave me all kinds of grief for scaring her so bad. But according to her and Uncle August, no more bombing raids on the Herzlands. The Luftstreitkräfte must have dealt with their long-range bombers. The evacuations have halted. Civilians are coming back to the city to fix things up, move back in. Uncle wishes me the best on my recovery. Not much else out of him. Guess he’s busy as an army kommandant.
Vollstrecker officers made an example out of a few deserters today. Summary execution in the courtyard. One bullet to the head. No trial. That’s what awaits those who run from their duty. As if I needed more reason to keep fighting.
They’re talking about the eastern front on the radio. Katerinburg’s under siege. The Reformisten are taking the lead on this. ‘King Wingfried’ apparently going in to liberate his namesake. Good riddance. I hope he gets killed like his cousin did. Insane, the both of them. War propaganda makes it sound like this whole business is days away from being resolved. Fallschirmjager in Angriver, panzers advancing without meeting any meaningful opposition. It’s all trash, of course. If you believe what they say, we’re about to capture the Archon. Every day we’re hot on his trail.
I can’t sleep. Everytime I close my eyes, I see Bluetalon slumped over the controls. I see Grimquill bleeding out from a dozen bullet holes in the mud. It’s etched into my mind...they don’t leave me alone. I can’t help but think that if I was just a little better, I could have killed whatever got us. I could have saved them.
I need to get out of here. Or get a drink. Both, preferably.
8/9/10
It’s my birthday today.
Boreas above, I never told you when my birthday was. Three years writing, and I never thought to tell you. I suppose there was always something more important going on. But now, while my brothers and sisters are off fighting and dying, I’m here in a hospital with holes in my chest.
Sergeant Hellseig came for a visit. Said he talked to some griffs. We’re going back to the 41st, but we’re the replacements now on a support panzer. Apparently the crew got wasted but the vehicle itself is fine. A Stahlschild, they call it. More armor, bigger gun. Slower. I’ll judge it when I climb inside. No time for the range. I’m supposed to be out of here in a few days. That’s when they’ll have the panzer restored for us and ready.
We’re going to go drinking at a local pub. A few of the other griffs are busting me out. They learned its my birthday, so they’re taking the excuse to ‘liberate’ me.
Don’t feel bad about missing my day. We both forgot to say when they were.
I’m 22. And I’m off at war. As far from you as the world seems able to make me.
8/11/10
Dear Paige,
They’re letting me go tomorrow. My ribs are still sore as Tartarus and I’m having trouble sleeping with the dead still bothering me, but apparently I’m good enough to go back in a panzer. I’m actually going to miss these dumb bastards here with me in the hospital. Some of them get to go home. Mostly the ones with debilitating injuries. Lose a leg, lose a wing, that sort of thing. Lose an eye? Apparently they rotate you back out again. Guess I shouldn’t be so surprised.
A few days driving in a truck to our staging ground isn’t my idea of a good time. Better than walking, though. And with the roads secure, we shouldn’t have so bad a time of it. Hopefully. Mud will still slow us down.
I don’t know what else to say here. They gave me a slip informing me I’m being awarded the Medallion Crimson. I don’t really care. I’ll stash it with my dress greys and leave it be. I know I should want to go home, like the others. But hearing what’s going on out there, knowing what’s happening to other Imperial soldiers out at the front. I want to go back, I know it. I’ve got a job to do now, and too many griffs to do it for that can’t anymore. It’s not just about fighting for the Empire now. Now, its personal.
I’ll have one more drink before we take off. One of the grenadiers heading home gave me her old flask. It’s nice and sturdy. Got some schnaps in it. I can probably hold onto it for a while before I have to refill.
8/14/10
Paige,
Heard Western Town finally fell. Looks like they got Dawnclaw’s troops straightened out again. What a mess. They’ll be moving on Romau itself now. Every day, I hear rumors about the fighting there. It’s held out so far for so long. Cost us so much. It might just be impossible to take while the Archons’ alive in there. But it's one of the holiest sites on Griffonia, for all griffons. So take it we must, one way or another.
They showed Sergeant Hellseig and I to our new panzer. I told you it's a new ‘support’ panzer. Not so big as a Beak, but larger than a Calico. I thought it’d be a bit spacious, but there’s five of us crammed in here now with a (clipped out) cm cannon. It's pretty choked up. For one, the loader and radio operator are separate now. Apparently the griff on the set is up in the bow, where he mans a second machine gun. That’ll take some getting used to.
The panzer came with a name; Sabine. Written on her gun tube. The crew may have gotten splattered, but apparently she was tough enough to survive whatever they threw at her. We’ll see.
So, we’ve got three new crewgriffs. Our driver is this nervous looking conscript from Feathisia, barely speaks a word of Herzlandisch. Name’s Eihol or something like that. I’m just glad I’ve been brushing up on my Feathisian.
The new radiogriff isn’t actually a griff at all. She’s a dog, apparently a fill in from Bronzehill. Goes by the name of Spotsley. She reminds me a lot of you in that she takes your brainy side but goes to the wall with it. Always spouting trivia and nonsense. Apparently she was a student back in Bronzecross when she got conscripted. So now we have to deal with her. Wonderful.
And then we come to the loader. Get this; a Reformisten -pony- from Longsword. Traveled west to volunteer for the Reichsarmee after the east rejoined. I honestly don’t know what to say about him after that. He’s an Earth pony by the name of Long Haul, and while he is good on the (clipped out) cm, I honestly don’t know how he can associate with people like that who were so dead set on causing him and his entire species such suffering not long ago.
We’re getting ready to roll out. Funny, I go back through all the notes I’ve made waiting for your next letter. I’ve written a lot of battle notes. So much so I’m starting to run out of paper in my notebook. Might have to cut them down a little bit.
8/18/10
Dear Paige,
Got your letter yesterday, got around to finally writing a full response. Thank Static for sticking up for us. Maybe Equestria will learn all us easterners aren’t warmongering idiots.
(There is a line firmly crossed out)
I’m glad to hear you and her found a place together. By now, if you haven’t moved already then I wish you luck in doing so. Changing living places can be difficult, especially if you bounce around like you and I do. But I’m writing you about it now because you’ve got her there to help you get accustomed faster. And that makes all the difference. Give her my luck in getting her talk show up and running.
I almost forgot about our questions. I almost forgot about half of what your letter is talking about. So much has happened over here, it almost feels like it's from a different time. Years ago, instead of a month. By Eyr, just a month. I’ll give it my best to answer. I need this, the sort of head-clearing talking about these topics brings.
Hobbies. Well, I used to sketch. I know, it seems a bit odd, especially after what I said about my failure at piano. But sometimes I’d sit back and sketch landscapes. Towns, military bases, airplanes in the sky, buildings. I’m no good at griffons, I keep getting the proportions all wrong. But I can sketch scenes. I haven’t done so in a while. I’ll try to send you one if I can help it. Aside from that, you know I like reading a good adventure or mystery. You got me into that. So thanks.
Childhood. I was born in Griffenheim, as you know. My parents were loving and supportive, if busy. So I had to make time for myself. I used to run with a small group of other kids through Industrie, playing in back alleys and markets and exploring abandoned warehouses and factories. We called ourselves a gang and pretended like we were so tough. We’d harass shopkeepers and play pranks on the police. I even got caught a few times. We had street ‘wars’ with other ‘gangs’ where we’d throw mud and sticks and challenge each other to fly the fastest and other dares and the occasional brawl. Then my father died, and I had to stick around at home, go work in the factory, help take care of Sophie. Things changed, and I had to change with them. I know plenty of others who had to go through something similar.
Fear. That’s tough for me. I’m seeing new things that make me reconsider that all the time. I used to mostly be afraid to die. But I’m finding out there’s worse things than that. Still don’t want to. Just seeing there’s a lot more to be fearful of. I’d say it’d have to be similar to yours. The idea of just losing people you care about and not even knowing it until after the fact. I’m having trouble with it when it's in my face. I don’t know how I’d feel if I had to delay my reaction.
I’ve got a few. Simple ones, but I think you’ll agree we’ve been asking a lot of big questions lately.
Do you sing in the shower? When I’m home, I sort of do. But definitely not while I’m out with the regiment. That would cause all kinds of awkwardness. Believe me.
Where do you want to go for vacation? Imagine if we were together for a single week, no strings attached. Where would you want to go? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; I want to see Zebrica. It’s just the idea of going somewhere so exotic and distant is so exciting to me. Maybe travel to the Boers or the Zebrides. I just want to see jungles and deserts on another continent.
Last one. Do you like sports? I’ll admit I’m usually too busy to keep up with it regularly, but I do check in on hoofball every now and then. Go Fowls!
Also, so there’s no more awkwardness, when’s your birthday? Three years going and neither of us said when it was. You think that’d be one of the first things we’d tell. Guess we both lead exciting lives, eh?
Keep at your studies, Paige. You’re going to go do great things, I know you will. I’ll keep at it out here and fighting as best I can so I can come home to you. One day. Stuck in here like I am, with the end so far away, I feel like getting into all the mushy emotional crap again. I miss you. I can’t wait to see you.
But I’ll save the bigger stuff until we’re face to beak. It deserves to be said in person.
Yours,
-Cyril
Sent September 12th, 1010
Dear Cyril,
I am so sorry. I was so shocked by the news that Zola, Bluetalon and Grimquill are gone. I almost feel like I knew them too from what you wrote about them. I had to take a while to get that all in there. And the fact you’d been injured. I’m so sorry. I managed to go my whole term without getting seriously hurt.
Let’s face it, you’ve officially taken the trophy for ‘most suffering’. Static agrees. We finally did get moved in, by the way. It’s nothing fancy, mostly just a two bedroom one bath. Lucky me, Static is mostly a night pony and I’m a daytimer. Helps with the bathroom, though she’s got a habit of being a bit of a slob about the food. Anyway.
I heard Romau finally surrendered. Well, I guess judging by what you’ve said and the newspapers are reporting, it sounds like the defenders were just slaughtered enough to take the city. The fact it took so long, I don’t know. These Vollstrecker sound like bad news. Executioners. It certainly sounds like a purging, which makes them political officers. Watch yourself, Cyril. I’d hate for you to get on their bad side.
I’m only keeping up with the news to laugh at how bad they’re getting it. Static’s railing about how the press is obviously biased against the Empire and anypony that’s not ‘Harmonist’. It's kind of obvious now. Mixed bag so far. Hoofington folk are patriotic and loyal to Celestia. They don’t like the idea of somepony supporting the Empire, but they -are- mad about the press lying to them. Ups and downs I guess.
You -do- know how cutie marks work, right? The symbol is supposed to indicate a ponies given talents, a piece of them that they are special and amazing at. Now true, that means a lot of ponies have the -same- cutie mark. But they’re more than just symbols on the flank. Why do you think mine is a book? While a lot of them are more abstract in their representations, it's usually a no-brainer to connect once it becomes clear. I never knew you had no idea how they worked, or I might have told you this years ago.
New school term at Hoofington U. All advanced placement classes. I’ve had to quit my job and get something at night to keep up. I barely slept before because I was worrying about you, now I’m lucky if I get four hours. So now I’m a clerk for a factory. I get delivered reports for the company, I type them up in a comprehensive way. Me and forty other ponies, sitting at our typewriters, for hours into the night at this office. I have to compete with a bunch of thestrals, and they don’t have to spend half the day at school. It’s rough, but it pays the bills and I’m still at Uni. Such is life.
My parents are nervous about the Herzland War. My father more than my mother. He’s convinced the Empire’s coming back. My grandfather served in the Deponyan royal army, so paranoia about the Empire is pretty constant. They want me home. But I can’t just leave after all this. I’ve only got two years schooling in, I’m not even fit for a bachelor’s yet. I can’t give up when I’m finally GOING places.
One more semester. Then I’ll at least have a degree. Maybe then it’s time to come home. I don’t know. If I come home, it’ll be easier to get to you. But Equestria is the best place on the planet to learn magic. I’d be throwing away my shot at getting back into Luna Nova ever again.
I put together another request, but now I don’t even know if I want to. I came to Equestria to learn at Luna Nova. But now I’ve got Static, my other friends at Hoofington U, a lot of time spent here on campus, an apartment. Maybe I don’t need to go to Luna Nova to get what I want.
I’ve done more work with Static on my thesis. The crystal I’ve been building has been coming along nicely with her input. I know she doesn’t understand half of what I say. Then again, she’s a radiopony, an electrician. Ideas like theoretical arcana, even to a unicorn, have got to be pretty out there for somepony of her background. The crystal is now fully formed, and I am proud of the matrix I have in place. Now I just need to run through some calculations for power distribution through the crystal. I have to keep bleeding off the energy in order to regulate it, which annoys Static to no end (which I suppose I get, because even if the experiment is ‘successful’ a lot of time I’ll drain the energy to be safe for the next run). But I’m not just going for some military crystal like what they use in their beam rifles (news flash, apparently that’s what those strange glowing weapons you saw are too. Amazing that the Empire would consider even attempting that field of magic, much less developing working magic weapons). I’m looking at a power source of immense magnitude, something that would make those rifle crystals look like .45 slugs. Imagine a panzer powered by a crystal, or a plane. What if we could go bigger? What about warships powered by magic, or even a whole city? I’ve been doing some reading, and apparently high minds in the Ministry of Magic have been publishing articles on a theoretical spell framework to allow a magnification of spells. A sort of amplifier if you would. A tool that would let one unicorn cast a spell with the power of, say, a dozen. I don’t know more than that, but I hope my thesis catches the eyes of the Ministry. I’m never going to get the funding I need to make this a reality like that spell amplifier if I don’t.
I am glad to hear you recovered from your wounds. Less glad they decided to repay that by throwing you straight back into the war again. And a Reformisten PONY. I don’t even know what to say about that. How could he? Has he forgotten what they’ve done? The Longswordian Genocide and the Wrath of Hellquill are still being talked about in the Riverlands. If the Empire hadn’t stepped in, the Coalition would have likely invaded. Your loader is ultimately a traitor. I’m not talking about how some Riverponies call other ponies that live in the Empire, I’m saying he’s completely forsaken the ideal of everypony who fought or died for him and before him. That’s just not right. I told Static about it, and she announced over the radio that there are -ponies- joining this group. She got TONS of outraged mail. Some called her a liar. But most were just as disgusted as, well, we are. Static’s a natural born Equestrian, but she understands my horror.
Cyril, I know you have to work with that stallion. But don’t trust him. He found it so easy to forsake his race he’d abandon everything that makes ponies unique.
Okay, back to you.
I’m okay with simple questions. I really am. And I appreciate it, too. Time to throttle down a little.
Yes. I sing in the shower. ALL the time. I’ll sing songs on the radio, I’ll hum while I’m scrubbing. Static gets all kinds of annoyed when I sing old songs in Rijekospiel. Stuff from home. My mother sent me a record in a care package, and it was all I could listen to for a whole week. Static, of course, doesn’t speak it, and it's completely different music than out here. She usually just shuts herself up in her room, but when I’m in the shower she says she can hear me singing out in the living room. I don’t care. I like it.
I actually wouldn’t mind going to Hippogriffia. I’m like you, I want to see Zebrica. But now I’m a little more traveled, I wouldn’t mind seeing things closer to home as well. I’ve been interested in Aquila, for example. Such a historic city. All those monuments and the culture there.
Sports? Um. Maybe? Does wrestling count? I used to watch it in Rijekograd with my brother when I was a filly. Big huge stallions and mares throwing each other around in a ring. It was a major sport back east. I don’t really anymore. Once in a while I’ll look in on the celebrities I used to watch, see how they’re doing. Most of them retired since I knew them, became spokesponies. But no, not really anymore.
Okay, three from me. What book would you like next? I’m so sorry to hear your collection was lost in the tank. Please, just tell me what you want next, I’ll get it for you. I’m personally involved in a novel myself about a science drama from a few decades back, about creatures from another planet invading and being defeated by, of all things, bacteria. It’s one of those old novels that hasn’t aged well, like the dragon fighting one you sent me. But it’s still written quite well.
Second: what’s the first thing you’ll do when you get home? For me, I know I’ll want to go out in Rijekograd and get some food from home. Equestrian food is good, but their portions are enormous out here, and use way too much sugar on everything.
Third: how do you feel about kids? I know, I know. A little awkward given how far away we are and how long since we’ve seen each other. But it’s a question we have to ask someday. Might as well be now. As for me, I always felt like a family would just be a natural occurrence. Inevitable, you know? Then my schooling came up and my education came first. Now? I don’t know. I’ve been thinking it over. I’d be okay having foals some day. Maybe when I’m a famous arcanist. Then I won’t have to struggle like my parents did. What about you?
I miss you. I can say that again, right? Now we’re back to repeating the mushy stuff we say everytime? Static wonders how I can hold out for you after three years. She tells me I turn heads when I go out. I tell her the same thing I’ve said. Its because its been so long and after what happened with you know who that I have to hold out. We’ve come too far to let it end here, thousands of miles apart.
Come home safe, okay? There’s a lot to be said when we are face to beak again.
Yours,
-Paige
P.S: apparently my brother broke out of that Bakaran prison. Because of course he did. Now he’s apparently gone south to work as a smuggler out of the Friestaat. My whole family is just in awe of how he’s screwed up his life. And, of course, what he’ll do to screw it up again.
Sent October 15th, 1010
Dear Paige,
Gods above, where do I start?
I decided to hold off on the war notes this time, since I almost made a novel with the last letter. Now, I’m using my notes to put together a single message to you. Hopefully there will be less mood whiplash, less reiterating the same things.
A lot’s happened since my last letter to you. Since August, we’ve pushed south hard. Once we got word that Romau had finally surrendered, we knew there was reinforcement coming. High Kommand wanted us to press, hard. Get as much ground as we could so when the Sturmdivisiones come up behind us we hammer into them with fresh units. Katerinburg fell to the Reformisten after that. Literally fell. They practically leveled the city with the Order of the Ebon Shroud and a few grenadier regiments behind them. Apparently there’s a deal being worked out with Wingfried. He can’t technically be king of the duchy, but he’s the last in the line. So Katerin is working out a way to give him the title, but things are essentially still going to be run by Imperial governors. Apparently, Katerin has been the easiest to occupy so far, with more and more defecting to our side all the time. Wingfried’s still got half the duchy to retake, but an easier job means a faster end to the war.
Apparently, Aquileia invaded neutral Griefwald and they’re gobbling up all the land between them and the Empire. Everygriff here is talking about how they’re next on the list. Plenty of us are pumped to take the fight to the westerners. I say we finish this fight first, but word is troops are being mobilized to guard the border out (clipped out). Empire can’t seem to catch a break. Again.
We took Greenback on September 25th. Yale finally decided to fight back. These weren’t their militia and conscripts, though. These boys were determined, as capable as the Angriver fanatics we’ve been facing so far. They hold and they fight. Guess it just took them a while to train up some real soldiers. Too little too late, though. Even with (clipped out) panzers, we rolled in there and took the city in three days fighting. Nightmarish stuff, but you’ve heard me go on about cityfights before. This had to have been the worst though. Greenback was big. And we were practically fighting for piles of rubble, not buildings. But we won in the end. The Rectorate in the city of Yale issued their surrender. Stood down the rest of their troops. For that, I think the Empire’s going to go easy on them. Besides, we need as many of their universities and scientists intact as we can get.
The past two weeks, we’ve been carving into Angriver. I think we’ve cut their best down, because at this point they’re having a damn hard time stopping us. We took Appengen on the 6th, and then kept going until we hit Griffing the next day. They must not have been expecting that, because we only had a few militia and police to stop us. They didn’t of course. We had a deployment of Fallschirmjager from the (clipped out) division helping us. I think we really got that big breakthrough we were looking for. Ever since then, the real Angriver troops have counterattacked everyday to take the city back. But we’ve held. Now the line’s caught up with us, Griffing’s been reinforced and we’ve been relieved to get our panzers refuelled, rearmed and repaired. We’re not quite pulled out, but we can go get some coffee and decent sleep. Thank the gods.
I’ve come to appreciate Sabine. She’s sturdy, much harder than Zola was. She’s bounced shells that would have wrecked a Calico no problem. And the 5 cm can wreck Airbenders and buildings the same. I feel unstoppable in her. I reset my kill count when we changed over, but I’m back up to seven panzer kills, mostly because of how few there are out here. Half of them are (clipped out). When are they going to stop? Evergriff knows they’re here. I’m surprised there hasn’t been a diplomatic incident yet.
The replacements aren’t bad either. Turns out, Eihol used to be an auto racer in Feathisia. Those prime cars that can go faster than a griff can fly. He apparently enlisted as a truck driver but was bumped over to the panzerkorps.
Spotsley is a good one too. Sure, she’s a know it all and all superior about it, but so far she’s shown that when something needs to be done or somegriff is in trouble she’s always there. She’ll lecture you on how you did it wrong, but she’ll do it while helping you through.
We don’t like Haul much. Not because of the pony himself, he’s actually not a bad type, good loader does his job like he was born for it (that’s how those flank markings work, right?). Keeps talking about the Reformisten’s Integralist philosophy. Thing is, that’s the problem. He’s Reformisten, and nogriff knows what to make of that or what he says. A whole month and I have absolutely no idea how to handle it. And the way he talks about the whole way of doing things is eerie. They call it a ‘cultural refinement’, where they take the better elements of whatever they’re absorbing and ban anything else that doesn’t match griffon culture. Other faiths, other philosophies, art styles, traditions. The way Haul talks about it, its like its inevitable. It's really kind of creepy. This was a stallion who fought against Pallas and his genocidal maniacs in Longsword as a militiapony. Now he’s joined Wingfried’s banner. None of the rest of us know how to deal with that. And every time we ask, he says the same thing:
"They were wrong, they were traitors, they completely subverted the Reformisten ideal and as such were made examples of.”
I’ve heard the Archon make speeches like that about purging heresy in the Empire.
The Vollstrecker are just as bad as we expected, of course. More deserters shot. A few spies discovered in our ranks. Griffs sympathizing with the League. Archon supporters. The worst like the spies and deserters get shot with no trial. The others are chained and marched off. Nogriff knows where. These new Crows are with us in the attack, watching us carefully to see who’ll try to run off or retreat without being told to. Those are shot on sight, of course. Even panzer crew. I saw a Vollstrecker climb onto a Calico and execute the sergeant because he refused to drive his panzer into a firefight. Then she climbed in and ordered the panzer forward herself. They take point on near every charge, protected by their armor as they tell the truppen with them to attack behind them. It’s madness. What’s worse is, they leave the Reformisten volunteers from the east alone, like Haul. Just pass them over. Not like those idiots would ever break, though. From what I hear they never retreat if they can help it. Waste of griffpower. Or ponypower, as it is.
So, less about the war. Though I find I have little to talk about outside it. I realize that makes my letters a bit awkward.
Hmm. Next book? Tough one. I want to get my Daring Do collection back, but that could take a while, and I don’t want you sending me a whole stack to start with. I’ve got an idea instead; The Downfall of Númenor. All this interest in historical fiction got me curious. There’s an Equestrian author named K. T. Trotkin, lives in the Griffish Isles. He wrote a book based on the series of breakaways and uprisings after the Republic Revolution. I read a news article where he swears it's not based on that, but after our talks I can see the connection. Give it a read before you send it over. For some reason, I could never find it in a bookstore here.
When I get home, I want to get drunk. As drunk as I can get. So drunk I can’t even fly. Then I want to just sleep for a whole day. That would be nice, to get some sleep without worrying about getting blown up. Again. And then yeah, something to eat would be nice, like a steak.
I don’t know about the kids question. Isn’t it a little early to be asking about that? I mean, I guess I’d want to start a family one day. It never really seemed important. I always had something else I needed to focus on instead. I want to. But I (several lines are furiously scratched out here). Maybe. Things are a little strange. I don’t know if I can really think about that right now.
Three more questions. Hm. Okay. I’ll be honest, I can only think of one right now. I keep wracking my brain, but all I’ve got is seasons. What’s your favorite? Mine is autumn. That point where its cooling down from summer, the leaves are all turning and the smells of hot cooking fires with cookies, cake and meats just rolls down the street. The knowledge that winter is coming, with all the holidays it carries with it. I hate to get all poetic, but there’s something magic about it.
I think we’re in the end now. Baron Leer and the Archon are all alone now. The Empire is advancing and we’re holding Griffing. Hope is, maybe I’ll be home before New Years’. Then, maybe, just maybe, I can start looking into booking that trip across the ocean. To you, Paige.
I’ll see you. There’s a lot to say.
Yours,
-Cyril
(Folded up into the envelope is a sketch, made with a pencil of some kind, of a cityscape with forests beyond. Without color it is difficult to say if the sun peeking over the horizon is rising or setting, but there is quite a bit of cloud cover regardless. Some of the buildings are little more than rubble, and sections of the forest appear rudely interrupted as if those were from shell craters. It is a bit rough, but still apparent that much effort was put into this drawing. On the back is a scribbled note. “Sunset Over Angriver. From Cyril”)
Sent November 21st
Dear Cyril,
You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting to send this! Word about the surrender came in last week over the radio, and I’ve been just burning waiting for your letter so I can reply.
So. Your letter had a lot about the war. Obviously, the Empire won. I’m just glad you’ll be heading home after all that. You’ve been on the front for what, six months? Now that Baron Leer’s dead and the Archon captured, I can’t imagine they’ll need a tank unit to hold the south. The Vollstrecker alone seem like they’d be enough to terrify the south into compliance, honestly. I’m just happy you’re out of danger again. With you in the combat zone, I’ve been awake all night and suffering in my AP classes. Now I can get A’s and B’s again instead of C’s.
That was a joke, FYI.
Anyway, I’m sending you The Downfall of Númenor. I did read through it, for a time. I’m afraid I’ll have to pick up a new copy, since it’s less historical fiction and more history-inspired classic fantasy. So it had a whole world to get into and learn, and honestly I was too busy to get into it entirely in the short few weeks I had. I’m sorry, but I’ll get into it when I can!
I got a letter from your mother. She’s so relieved the war’s finally done. Apparently, she was worried for both you and your uncle. There was word about some combat behind your friendly lines. She apparently couldn’t even send any messages because the postal system in Griffenheim was so messed up. She thanked me for staying in touch with you. She’s worried, Cyril. Worried about how you’re acting. She wants me to tell you we’re all still here for you. Me, Sophie, your mother, your grandparents, Static. We’re all here for you. We’re all proud of you and we’re here to help after everything you’ve been through in this war. All you need to do is talk to us.
Spring. My favorite season is spring. Seeing everything in full bloom, the mist rolling over the hills and still having cold mornings. It's an amazing time, and when you’re flying over the Riverlands the rolling green hills just stretch all the way away toward the horizon.
So you’re telling me you don’t want to have kids? I understand if that might be an awkward topic, but ever? But you love your family so much. You’re always talking about how proud you are of Sophie. I think you’d be an excellent father. You’ve got enough experience under your belt to point in the right direction, you know what kids would get up to and how to talk to them. Did you ever think about what we might want in the future? I think we’ve been writing to each other about how we feel long enough to at least consider it.
Or do you just not want to have kids with me?
Okay. I got awkward. I’m sorry. I’m just glad you’re okay. And I want to talk with you more. I’d love to start planning more for a visit. I can take a vacation to come. If you do make it to Equus, rest assured I’ll be waiting for you with eager, open arms and wings.
First thing we do is fly over a city. I’ve been looking forward to flying with you.
Yours,
-Paige
P.S: wow. I kind of expected this one to be a lot longer. I guess with the war over, I just want to see you more than write you.
Sent December 19th
Dear Paige,
Yes. I’m home. Whoever that griff was that plugged the Baron, he’s an Imperial hero. They won’t release his name, but we know he goes by the callsign ‘Bogeygriff’, and the Kralle he did it with has pretty much become legendary.
The Archon’s in exile. Up north in Hellquill, in the middle of nowhere.
But you already know all this. I guess I’m just writing to fill paper. It’s different now, writing at home again. It feels like there’s less urgency. I’m on leave until the New Year. With orders to not leave the country. There’s that idea shot to Tartarus. Meaning I can’t come see you after all.
I’m so sorry. Again.
So I drink. And drink. And drink. I go to the bars with the crew. We get called heroes wherever we go. Beer and schnapps flow freely. But we know the truth. What we’ve seen. What we’ve done. We’re butchers. The League might have betrayed the Empire, but we’re not heroes. Heroes don’t have night terrors and wake up in a cold sweat. Heroes don’t need to get drunk every night to fall asleep. Heroes don’t feel disgust when they look at their medals. Heroes don’t keep leaving their girl behind over and over again. Heroes don’t get interrogated and put on a watchlist by an intelligence agency.
I should explain.
After I sent my last letter, Angriver pulled one last card on us. Somehow, somewhere, they got their talons on a few Imperial panzers and a bunch of Reichsarmee uniforms. Baron Leer had his cronies slip behind the lines and start attacking supply depots, radio posts, and command centers. By the time we were able to react, we were already shooting each other. Griffing came under attack by both the enemy -and- a battalion from the 2nd Grenadiers. And I just...mowed down everything in front of me. Couldn’t even take the chance anymore. Just minced everygriff and everything. Over the course of a week, they took our cohesion apart. I can’t say anything more about what happened, but it wasn’t good. We failed to spot the enemy at his own game, and we got our own paranoia killing Imperial truppen. The 106th Infanterie captured plans calling this ‘Operation Trauer’. Too late to stop it, but we could at least spot them again. Good news was, we got all the enemy false panzers.
All officers, sensitive personnel and panzer crews were interviewed afterwards by the (the word is clipped out). Multiple times. I don’t know how many times I was pulled into a dark room with griffs I couldn’t see and had to answer questions for hours. That copy of The Downfall of Númenor you sent me? Haul warned me that it could be seen as seditious, pro-Republican publishing. And you know what? He was fucking right. They asked me about Uncle August, told me things about my mother and sister. They’re watching you too, y’know. Said they’ve got copies of all our letters, asked me how long I’ve been talking to a Riverlands spy. I told them you were no spy, you’re a student in Equestria. On and on and on. Then they brought in these two specialists by the name of (clipped out) and (clipped out). One was this really giggly female who just seemed to love tossing out random things to make me uncomfortable. And the other was this albino demigryph. At least, I thought he was missing his wings. Then the interviews stopped. They announced Baron Leer was dead and the Archon captured by Fallchirmjager.
We didn’t even stay for the occupation. All panzertruppen were ordered back home. I haven’t even seen Sabine since. They’ve told me they’ll let me know when I can return to service.
So yeah. We won. Doesn’t feel like a damn thing’s changed. But there’s celebrations in the streets, at the temples, in the bars. I talked with preacher Bronzeclaw again. He’s got nothing for me but to hold firm to faith. I’m even starting to doubt a griff of the cloth.
Only places I go these days are temple, the bar and home. Nothing else for me here. The Reichsarmee sent me my Medallion Crimson and Ribbon Intrinsic. Useless pieces of tin.
I don’t know what to do, Paige. I kept fighting because I believed I was going to finally make the Empire a better place. Get some glory at last. Go home and rest. Go see you. Instead, I’m a pariah in the military, I can’t sleep, all I do is drink to get the memories out of my head and any time now secret agents could kick down my door and abduct us all in the night. I can’t go see you. I can barely sit down for dinner with mother and Sophie. I’m going insane here.
Look, if you’re gonna ask the question, fine. -If- it works out between us, and -if- we stay together long enough, yeah I’d have kids with you. But could we, even? What is that, half-griffon, half-pegasus? Have you ever seen any of those around? And even if that’s possible, what would they go through, being seen as some sort of freak?
I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be there, I’m sorry I can’t be more positive about the future, I’m sorry I can’t get myself into a place where I’m not in danger every second. It's almost four years since we last saw each other, Paige. Things aren’t getting better here. They’re just getting worse.
Help me, Paige.
-Cyril