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McCallister: "It was 2053, mid-summer, when the bastards came down on us. We'd been hearing rumors for weeks—troop movements across the border, growing political anger, politics really. The higher-ups didn't tell us much, just that we had to be ready for anything. But none of us could've imagined what was coming."

He paused, his eyes glazing over as he recalled the initial assault.

McCallister: "Elfenspeen was a hellhole that day. They hit us hard and fast, targeting supply depots, major landmarks, and anything that looked important. We thought we were prepared, but nothing prepares you for seeing bombers in the sky, for hearing those damned fighters screaming overhead. The first few hours were chaos. We lost communication, and it felt like every man for himself."

McCallister: "Civilians... they were the real heroes, and the real victims. We tried to evacuate as many as we could, but the NDF didn't care about collateral damage. Gunfire and artillery roared every day, and the streets ran red. We set up makeshift barricades, fought from one block to the next. I remember seeing kids, barely old enough to know what was happening, picking up weapons and fighting alongside us. They had that same look we did—cold, determined. War does that to people, especially kids. It breaks something inside them....

Y-y'know, there uh... There was this group of kids we found holed up in a basement. They couldn't have been older than ten or eleven. They'd been fighting off NDF goons with anything they could find. We pulled them out, tried to get them to safety. One of them, a boy named Tommy, Tommy Finzeir he called himself, he looked at me with eyes far too old for his age. He said, 'We killed some of them. They killed our parents. We had to.' What do you say to that? How do you tell a child that they shouldn't have to fight? But there was no time for words, only survival."

He took a sip of water, his hands shaking slightly.

McCallister: "The battle raged on for days. Elfenspeen was razed to the ground, block by block. We took back the city inch by bloody inch, but it cost us. I lost friends—good men and women who fought bravely. But we also took down a lot of them. We used everything we had, from tanks to homemade bombs. It was brutal, but effective. About the war overall we didn't hear much. Orders came down from above, but the big picture was always murky. We knew we were part of a larger fight, that the Palidania as a whole was under siege. But our focus was on the here and now, on surviving each day. We heard rumors of victories in other cities, of losses, but information was scarce. The higher-ups wanted to keep us focused on our immediate goals, not bogged down by the enormity of it all."

His eyes grew distant as he remembered the final push.

McCallister: "The last stand in Oren's Park was the worst. The NDF thought they'd break us there, but we held our ground. We dug in, used the terrain to our advantage. It was hand-to-hand at times, artillery fire lighting up the night. By dawn, we'd pushed them back, and the retreat order came. We were bloodied, battered, but victorious.... In that battle, I suppose. I'm, sorry that's all I can say for now."