On Solstice (Worldbuilding Project)

LETTERS SENT TO AURREY HOUSEHOLD - CIRCA WINTER OF 1799

Dearest Mother,
I know it's been long since I last talked to you but the trenches are busy this time of year and the guerilla assaults on the supply lines have prevented us from writing home at all. It's tough out here but I hope you receive this and get to know that I'm still alive. There's been some close calls, with the raiders and assaults, but the serf-levy from the north has provided us with some good pikemen for keeping the elves out.

The regiment doesn't have an evergreen to burn for the celebrations but we do have plenty of wood, the free engineers have been tasked to drying it out. It's funny to look back to my younger years, when I wanted to be a doctor. Now I spend most my day killing, and the smell gets to you.

They say some of the men have been getting bogbrain out here; I've tried my best to get them help, the warmest tea we have, fresher biscuits, but I can only cut my own rations so far. That and they don't ever seem to get better. The hardest part is the look in their eyes when the artillery starts to fire down, something about the flashes and the noise of the weapons seems to completely shatter them.

As for brother, I haven't seen him as you hoped I might in your last letter, he's likely miles away on a different front and you know how he is with spelling and writing. Attached I've given you what the officers call a "photograph"; it's meant to be an instant snapshot of the moment, much faster than the commissioned paintings, and cheaper too. I think they may become a hit back home.

From your Reginald.

- Reginald Aurrey, 9th Commissioned Infantry Battalion, Grand Imperial Army; 20th of Treefall, 1799.

to mom
the oficers at the comaned tooled us to rite leters hoem so i thoght i culd giv yu somting to reed evryone hear lieks me alot  becus they said im funy but the oficers wunt let me used the refils becus it is to dangerus i tink that their goin to let us lite the trees for the fistevel

i luv yu mom

i hoep that they say i get to go hoem soon, sumtimes at nite evryone else gets up and the lood sonds sart agin and i cant sleep ten the oficer gets mad becus i ned to sleep to be uusful.

frum yur sammy

(drawn below is a crude picture of a heart)

- Samuel Aurrey, 24th Siege Infantry Battalion, Grand Imperial Army; 20th of Treefall, 1799