《The Alternative Diaries of Raymond's Raven》


 First Flight of the Raven (Collishaw)

    "In dedication to Sir Raymond Collishaw of the Canadian-British Royal Air Force."


    ~~GreenFlame


    <hr>


    "Hey, Sleipnir, you''re leg is in the way of the engines. Get off my plane."


    "Hmph. Just when I found a nice spot to nap under. As excessive as triple wings may be, it gives quite a nice shade."


    1917. The First Great War. The battle on the trench filled grounds, the dreadnought filled seas, and the skies claimed by hundreds of warplanes had taking a vicious turn in the pages of history. Germany and the Central Powers have conquered half of Europe and plane on expanding their influence. There to stop their advances would be the Allied Powers consisting of many nations spearheaded by the British Kingdom and the United States of America.


    There were many sung and unsung heroes that have fought valiantly across the air, land and see. For now, we turn our attention to the knights in the sky. Particularly, a notable Ace among Aces in the newly reformed Royal Air Force.


    A man with over 50 combat victories and have downed more planes than a certain Red Baron (by the end of the War). Someone who was born and raised from a humble town on an island, off the mainland coast of British Columbia.


    A Canadian Pilot. His name was Raymond Collishaw, squadron leader of--


    "Oh by the way, Ray-Ray. Did you eat my Salamanders sticks? I was saving them as a snack after my nap."


    "Who the h*ll would want to eat your god-d*mn lizard tails. And give me a hand here, everyone is scrambling to sortie in a few hours so I need an extra pair of hands to fit the bombs on my plane!"This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    "Can''t. I''m a Magician, remember? I don''t do manual labour. I''ll break my back."


    "B*tch."


    "I prefer Witch if you don''t mind. Tee-hee."


    The Canadian Pilot who was known as the Ace among Ace had a partner. A beautiful one. No, she wasn''t a soldier serving the British Empire, American Forces, Italian Arditi, or not even the Canadian Rifles. She was this abnormal looking beauty who had the right height to be a catwalk model, the right frame to be a pin-up model, and the right looks to be a post model for some cosmetic line.


    There was a perfectly normal reason why she was flagged abnormal.


    "If I were you, Sleipnir, I''d ditch that flash dress. The second Maria winds up her propellers, they''ll rip them right off."


    "Guh!? D-don''t tell me you have perverted fantasies of seeing my raven feathers being yanked off my body! Y-you lecher!"


    "Take that back or I''ll asked the nurse Sister Anita to spank you silly."


    "Guh!? E-even though a nun, she''s a devastating monster! It''s a mystery as to why Britain didn''t use her as a weapon against the Krauts!"


    The woman was wearing a dress that made her stood out like a sore thumb in the British Airfield stationed in Cambrai. A dress made out of 1000 raven feathers. They stuck to her body so well, she could walk into a ball and fit in splendidly. Whether it was a flaw in the design or intentional, she always leaves enough cutting up to the hips to show her long and bare leg.


    It''s usually shown whenever she lies across a random plane in the hangar for a nap, her leg draped over the side like a cat''s tail. Hence why Sir Raymond Collishaw was having difficult in adjusting the engine of his black Sopwith Triplane. The words ''Black Maria'' was hand-writting in golden ink across the side, obscured by the woman''s lazy arms.


    "Sleipnir. I hate to say this, but I will give you to the count of three."


    "Or what, throw me down behind some crates and mount me. You do realize you''re facing a Magician who specializes in Ice and Fire Spells. Would you like your body served Sherbert or Flambe?"


    "Oh Sister Anita. Could you be a dear and listen to my confession?"


    "DEMON! DEMOOOOOOOOON!"


    ...For the note, there was no particular nun anywhere near the airstrip where all the triplanes were being prepared for an aerial strike. But the bluff was effective enough for the Canadian Pilot to remove the so-called British Magician that was using his beloved plane as a hammock under the French Sun. She could be found covering under an empty crate like a cat to a puppy to a lion or something.


    "Another victory."


    Indeed.

 Second Dance of the Captain (Sleipnir)

    "R-Ray-Ray! S-stop this thing! I-I''m going to hurl!"


    "You''ve been assigned as my partner in the air regiment, and you still can''t get used to flying? The h*ll is wrong with you magicians!"


    It was the skies. The battles in the First Great War was waging heavily across all fronts. The land, the sea, and notably the air. Right now, the collection of French and British Air Forces were flying in formation to launch a counter offensive against a formation of German planes.


    On the Allied Power side, there were the British Sopwith Camels, the Triplane variants, and the French Nieuport 23 light fighters, and the SPAD S.13 Heavy fighters. On the Central Powers side, were a large variations of Fokker B.33 Multirole Fighters, and a heavy assortment of Hansen-Brandenburg G-1 bombers. The numbers were 1:3, but hopefully with the right Aces in place the odds will be leveled significantly. Namely a certain Canadian Pilot who was known to be the Aces among Aces.


    "Ray-Ray! Ray-Ray! M-my magic is dependent on the orientation of the ground to the sky! I have to be aware of where the Cardinal directions are while I focus my spell to deflect enemy arcane attacks! I-I can already see two Kraut Magician readying their shot a-and my head still can differentiate from down to up!"


    "You have to make do, Sleipnir. I''m rather busy in taking on six of these German pilots who already have a beat on me. Magic or not, I''ll take care of them and you handle the rest. You focus on taking out that German magician or whatever you call them!"


    "R-rest assured, my job is to protect the air fleet from enemy magic attacks. J-just whatever you do, d-don''t make the plane do that thing that forces the world go 180 or--UNYAAAAAAAAH! I-I SAID DON''T DO THAT!"


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "A Barrel Roll is a necessary defensive technique! Now hang on!"


    A certain all black Sopwith Triplane marked ''Black Maria'' screamed through the sky. A swarm of German planes and bombers split through the Allied Columns. Two seconds in, more than a dozen black smoke were seen plummeting down to the ground.


    "You said they have magicians? Where are they located, I''ll give you a clean shot before they take out our ground forces. Ready, Sleipnir?"


    "Huuuurk! Huuuuuurkkk! Uuuuuuuurk!"


    "...OH COME ON!"


    Just when the triple wing Sopwith Camel had a clear run at one particular bomb with two occupants (one of them with a peculiar witch hat), the Canadian Pilot had to bank to the side to avoid a head on collision. As much as he missed his chance to shoot the plane at the core engine, there was a compensation of dropping human vomit onto the pilot''s face. It ended up spiralling out of control (more common than being shot down), and ruptured into a black flower of smoke.


    "...Well, guess you can''t win them all with bullets."


    "THE H*LL! huuurk. I-I TOLD YOU DON''T DO THAT SPINNING THING! uuurk! N-NOW LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO! TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR EMBERASSING MY--Gkh---Bleeeeeeeeegh."


    "...Magicians are so bothersome."


    Indeed.


    "RAYMOND COLLISHAW, A-APOLO--Guuuuurrrllllllllll..."


    "...What the h*ll did you eat? Spider legs and lizard tail?"


    French Calamari and Brie actually.

 Third Song of the Parrot (Noisy)

    ¡°R-Ray-Ray! Y-you¡¯re staring at my body too hard! P-pull up! Pull up!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s only because you¡¯re in the way of the telescope, now buzz off!¡±


    ¡°So mean! It¡¯s only because you ignore me when I properly tap your shoulders!¡±


    World War 1. The battlefield that was called France was reaching an all time high. The Imperial German forces were pushing their tank columns up the valley and were gaining ground across the meadows. Land that were once used to make fine wine beloved by all over the world, were easily trampled by the catapillar tracks and the ton-like weight of the iron behemoths that were tanks of the enemy forces.


    Even the sky was scattered with Fokker Biplanes and some Friedrichshafen G.III bombers. Their plan was to push up the offensive into Allied Territory, to claim the area of Versaille and to establish a series of artillery battery. The goal was to flush out British, Australia, and American soldiers held up in trenches within that territory.


    And all of this was meticulously examined through a narrow brass telescope view about more than 300 meters from nearest column. The one who was doing the scouting was not a soldier, but a pilot. An Ace among the Ace. He wasn¡¯t British, but came from one particular Commonwealth Nation who wanted to prove their mettle.


    A Canadian Pilot by the name of Raymond Collishaw.


    ¡°This is strictly a reconnaissance mission, Sleipnir. So don¡¯t do anything stupid. One wrong move, and those 30 mm cannon rounds will be grating that flat stomach you¡¯re so proud of.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fully aware of that. As much as I am a Magician of the Canadian Witch Corp, I¡¯m not authorized to fight a regular soldier with arcane means. Let alone, there¡¯s no way I can stare down a f**king tank with a Burning Gaze spell. My only reason why we¡¯re here is because the enemy has a Magician amongst them. We need to annihilate him.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t all Witches girls?¡±


    ¡°How old school are you, Mr. Sexist?¡±


    The Canadian Pilot wasn¡¯t flying his beloved all-black Triplane Sopwith Camel with the named Black Maria. No, he was on the ground, on foot, and was by himself. Well, by himself as a soldier, but was accompanied by a girl who claimed herself to be a member of this secretive Canadian Witch Corp. She was not dressed for the occasion of battle, her elaborate and showy dress made out of 1000 raven feathers made her stick out like a sorethumb on the mountain they were hiding in. Not to mention, she was showing more skin thant standard issue dress code would allow ¨C ever.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Are you sure you not cold in that, Sleipnir? The French Winter get¡¯s pretty bad, I have some friends in the trenches who lost their hands and feet from the winter.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I have a Fire Cloak spell activated. It will distort the thermal radiation in the air to keep me warm¡ªACHOOO!¡±


    ¡°¡­Don¡¯t worry. I have a bandsaw ready to handle frostbite.¡±


    ¡°G-Guh! I-I¡¯m not listening! La-la-la-la-la!¡±


    Raymond Collishaw may not have done this in history, but right now, he had a frown on his face. He ignored the so-called Witch who was cupping her ears and singing a random tune as if to ward of some bad curse. She was considered a non-combat personnel in her profile, but she was more than ready for battle on a different stage. Especially against another magic user among the Central Powers.


    ¡°Listen to me, Ray-Ray. The Kraut Spellcaster must be hidden in the tank group. It¡¯s only obvious to prevent any random snipers taking a clean shot at them. The last thing they want after devoting their entire lives to the mystic path, would to have their brains raped by a bullet within a matter of seconds.¡±


    ¡°So graphic.¡±


    ¡°I tell myself that story every morning to motivate my survival on this messed up battlefield. Why do you think I''m fit and ready to hide away from danger.¡±


    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you wear a helmet like I told you.¡±


    ¡°Ew, no! You have no idea who was the last person to use it! I¡¯ll get helmet hair and don¡¯t get me started on the concept of lice.¡±


    ¡°What are you, a five year old?¡±


    ¡°H-Hygiene is very important! Ever since I was transferred to Europe, I have two showers every day.¡±


    ¡°Apologize to every man holed up in the trenches. They¡¯re fighting off rats the sizes of cats just to make sure to keep their sanity together.¡±


    ¡°Guh!? N-not listening. La-la-la-la-la!¡±


    Whether it was considred tabbo to talk about cat-sized rats, or it was her natural instinct as a woman, the Canadian Witch closed her ears and sang randomly to close the cruel world around her.


    ¡°Hey not so loud! We may be over 300 meters away, but there¡¯s a river in front of us! Sound travels farther on water than on land, if this keeps up¡ª¡±


    ¡°La-la-laaaa! N-not going to listen to your horror stories of zombies or liches! La-la-la!¡±


    *Pang*. The sound of a distant cannon echoed across the field and over the river. By the time the Canadian Pilot and With heard it, half of the mountain was ripped up from seven cannon shells. The time from launch to time of impact was exactly two seconds.


    ¡°NYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! (@x@)¡±


    ¡°WE HAVE TO TAKE OFF! PICK UP YOUR LAZY @SS AND RUN TO THE BLACK MARIA NOW! THEY¡¯LL SET UP THEIR ANTI-AIR GUNS IF WE¡¯RE TOO SLOW!¡±


    ¡°A-AT LEAST PICK ME UP LIKE A MAIDEN WHO TWISTED HER ANKLE! MY LEG CAN¡¯T MOVE IN THE MUD!...A-AND WHY ARE YOU SHOVING THAT TELESCOPE DOWN MY CORSET!?¡±


    ¡°DOES IT LOOK LIKE THIS FLIGHT JACKET HAVE THAT BIG OF POCKETS!?¡±


    ¡°SEXIST! SEXIST!¡±


    Despite the screaming of artillery showering the mountain over the river, the shrieking of a woman who had her pride scorn - even though she was carried off like an eloping princess - was louder.

 Fourth Ride of the Eagle (Trap)

    ¡°¡­Sleipnir. Drop the gun. You don¡¯t have to do this.¡±


    ¡°Not until she suck it down into her throat and pay for what she did to my fellow Witches! Come on! Moan like a pig, you little swine!¡±


    ¡°I SAID STOP THAT YOU IDIOT WITCH!¡±


    It was night fall. There had been a large scale battle on both the land and the air. The mixed Royal Air Force and U.S. Air Force had successfully pushed back the Imperial German sky forces of Fokkers and Zeppelin bombers from the border of France entering via Belgium. However, the ground battle of tanks and soldiers in the trenches were a shamble. There were heavy resistance on both sides, so it was a long drawn out stalemate for hours and hours.


    It wasn¡¯t an entire loss, on the other hand. Several soldiers who were secretly paired with magicians from the Canadian Witch and British Magic Division were able to defeat and apprehend some of the key German and Austrian Arcana Platoons. They were able to interrupt the enemy''s counteroffensive, dissolving their ritual to summon a heavy Fireball Bombardment and Swarm of Vampire Mosquitoes.


    Primarily, without the daring dive bomb of a certain Canadian Pilot and Canadian Witch interrupting their armored support, the enemy magicians would never have been captured. Now, in order to break the stale mate, every team on the Allies side must work around the clock in squeezing key information and intelligence from the capture magic spies and soldiers. That Pilot and Witch were currently underway in this large scale operation.


    ¡°Like I said. Put the gun down, Sleipnir. She may be an enemy, even a magician, but there¡¯s no need for you to violate her like this.¡±


    ¡°After melting off my dress in front of 1000 men!? And tying me up naked in the air by a floating vine! I think not, my dear Ray-Ray! This little brat needs some spanking time to reflect on her punishment!¡±


    ¡°¡­Sleipnir. It was your own d*mn fault for using magic to calling out that Octopus demon thing. It stripped you and hung you up in the air on its own accord, not her.¡±


    ¡°Guh! I-I confess my magic level wasn¡¯t at the required stage to control a summon from the Cthulhu Mythos, b-b-but she forced me to play my hand! So how could it not be her fault!¡±


    The Canadian Pilot was named Raymond Collishaw. He was one of the top aces among the pilots in World War 1. Namely, he was close rank to the British Billy Bishop and had several legendary encounters with the German Red Baron. He himself was a gentlemen on both land and air, and preferred not to get his hands too dirty unless necessary. Normally, he would sit out on interrogation, but since he was charged in being partners with a Witch, his duty was to ensure she survived this war while she dealt with magical agents.


    Personally, he forced himself to be present to make sure his so called partner doesn''t do anything... stupid. So he had every right to stand aside while the Canadian Witch the barrel of a German Luger down the enemy Witch¡¯s mouth (Note: Not loaded). From the pilot¡¯s angle, he can¡¯t tell if the girl was suffering or enjoying this torture.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you just use the classical Witch Trial cr*p to get a confession out of her. If you hang her by the toe and dunk her in oil, she might start singing how Germany is inventing a rocket or something.¡±


    ¡°I refuse to use the same techniques that were once deployed to shame and embarass my ancestors! Besides, my goal isn¡¯t to get her to talk about her army¡¯s secrets. Your friends in British Intelligence has that covered. I want to ruin her, break her, make her regret she was born a girl! Kyaaa-haa-haa-haa!¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­You¡¯re hand is shaking, Sleipnir. Want to take a break?¡±


    ¡°I-it¡¯s from anger! I swear! I-I don¡¯t get off on this sort of thing!¡±


    Neither does the Canadian Pilot. He believed things can be peacefully talked out, so long as one party was willing to bend over with a humble bow. So far, he could tell the Canadian Witch that was his partner in anti-magic espionage was either torn from commiting a humanitarian atrocity, or enjoying herself. The decision was too close that he was contemplating to judge her by the toss of a coin.


    ¡°It¡¯s useless, Sleipnir. She¡¯s intentionally withholding information from you so you can punish her more. See how happy she is when you¡¯re using a flail.¡±


    ¡°...OH DEAR GOD, SHE¡¯S A MASOCHIST!?¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t know? Seriously?¡±


    Raymond Collishaw sighed. British Intelligence, or rather the magical department hidden among the main division, were eager in wanting to know the secrets of magic agents from the German and Ottoman forces. They plan on conducting a raid on one of the former Ottoman Imperial outposts, but they heard that the desert path was rigged with magical creatures called Medusa Worms. As much as the Canadian Pilot wasn¡¯t a believer in magic, the situation was no different than looking for information of a hidden minefield. So he understood the urgency in itself.


    ¡°R-Ray-Ray! I-I don¡¯t know what to do. I-I¡¯m already conflicted that I¡¯m about to commit a War Crime in applying brutal interrogation techniques, and the fact she¡¯s only getting off from every time I slap her face. Sh-she¡¯s even thanking me with ''Danke Danke!'' at me! I''m so lost!¡±


    ¡°Sigh. It can¡¯t be helped. Move over, I¡¯ll take it from here.¡±


    ¡°Kyaaa! H-he pushed my @ss!¡±


    The Canadian Witch with a showy dress made from 1000 raven feathers was ¡®kindly¡¯ shoved aside to the ground (hand to the shoulder, she fell on her @ss). Raymond Collidhaw took the seat, sitting before the tied enemy magician. He wasn¡¯t an interrogator, no he would fail that test if he tried out for the police academy back in his hometown. Rather, he¡¯ll use a more unrestricted form of method to extract the informationfrom the enemy witch. Those who are weak of heart, please endure.


    ¡°¡­I love you?¡±


    ¡°Nyaah? The f**k, Ray-Ray!? A-a romantic confession!? S-so bold¡­HEH? WAIT! WH-WHY IS THE KRAUT MASOCHIST BREAKING DOWN INTO TEARS ALL OF A SUDDEN!?


    ¡°I love you.¡±


    ¡°D-did she just say ''Please spare me from this torture from h*ll! I''ll tell you everything!''...The h*ll type of logic does this messed up woman have!? I-is she seriously traumatized every time you say something nice and pat her head like a cat!? S-so confused (@.@)!"


    ¡°I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love¡ª¡±


    ¡°STOP! PLEASE STOP! Ray-Ray! Can¡¯t you tell this poor Kraut is suffering from your attack!? Sh-she¡¯s already telling you everything about the enemy numbers, the rituals they used to summon sand creatures, and the exact coordinates of every medusa worm in hiding in the desert! She¡¯s even begging with snot and tears to tell you to stop being so loving to her! If you don¡¯t think about her sanity, at least think about how fast my heart is beating from hearing you confess your love over 35 times!¡±


    All the necessary information had been extracted. There was no need for any form of violence, neither was there any other notion of psychological manipulation involved. If Raymond Collishaw had to submit a report to the Intelligence Officer, obviously the one serving the hidden magic division, he could proudly say he never once laid a finger on the German Witch (sort of).


    ¡°Oh my god, she¡¯s already convulsing from agony every time you pat her head like a kitten! I-I can¡¯t look, I can¡¯t go on watching this horror show!¡±


    ¡°¡­Good kitten. Chi-chi-chi.¡±


    "GAAAAH! RAY-RAY, D-DON''T SCRATCH HER CHIN! SHE''S HAVING A SEIZURE! GOOD LORD, FOAM IS COMING OUT OF HER MOUTH! SOMEONE GET A MEDIC! A MEDIIIIIIC!"


    No, the Canadian Pilot was not a bad man. Not one bit. He just like cats. (#HistoricalMaybe)

 Fifth Wave of the Witch (Trip)

    ¡°Look Ray-Ray! I¡¯m the King of the Woooorld!¡±


    ¡°..Sleipnir. I can see your bloomers. Everyone down here can see your bloomers.¡±


    ¡°I-IMPOSSIBLE! I¡¯VE APPLIED THE MAGIC SKIRT SPELL, NO ONE SHOULD BE ABLE TO SEE MY FORBIDDEN ZONE - SO WHY IS EVERYONE GAWKING UP UNDER MY DRESS!¡±


    The was several major campaigns going on in the land of France, the battleifled of World War 1. So far there have been various aerial and land sorties to repel the Central Powers, as well as pushing back the German forces from overrunning allied Italian borders. All of the necessary brainwork and command issues came from an airfield that was built some distance between Paris and Orleans.


    It was an Allied Airbase, flying a mixture of French, British, and American flags to identify its allegiance. It used to be just an old wine farm, but for the war purposes it had been bought and refitted as an major key point for aerial interdiction in the airzone. Stationed there was a certain Canadian Pilot, an Ace among the Aces. His partner wasn¡¯t a soldier, but claimed to be a magician of the Canadian Witch Corp (which he believed doesn¡¯t exist).


    They were currently present at this airbase that was sitting in between Paris and Orleans. They were there to refuel the pilot¡¯s all black Triplane Sopwith Camel plane carved with the name Black Maria. It had suffered heavy damage from a recent air raid on a hidden German fighter base. He and the members of the No. 10 Naval Squadrron (callsign Black Flight) gave them a good beating, but German air forces reinforced the defenses and had to push them out. They plan on coming back for a swift attack before they repair and solidify their anti-air guns.


    But as mechanical repairs take time, there was nothing for the Canadian Pilot to do but to nap and eat something. This also meant his partner from the Canadian Witch Corp was also unoccupied. So, she spent her lazy afternoon walking around the top of the air-traffic control tower.


    ¡°I believe that one day, Canadians will have the ability to fly up high and walk on tall towers like this! Yes, I can see tourist daring themselves to look over the edge, maybe even bungy jump for sport! Hee-hee, it has to be located in Toronto!¡±


    ¡°Sleipnir. I don''t understand what you''re talking about. There''s no such thing as a big@ss tower sticking up like a sore thumb in the middle of Canada. It would look stupid.¡±


    ¡°D-don¡¯t ruin my dreams! J-just wait and see, 1973 will change your mind!¡±


    "You just made up that number didn''t you, Sleipnir?"


    "... I give up."


    The Canadian Pilot¡¯s name was Raymond Collishaw. 50% of World War 1 fanatics know him, many others don¡¯t. Let¡¯s say he was an Ace among the Aces, close ranked to British Billy Bishop and had legendary dogfights with the notorious German Red Baron. A man of pious nature and dreamt of joining the Royal Canadian Navy, but didn''t get a reply and ended up finding an opening in the Royal Naval Air Service (now Royal Air Force).This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    As much as he was interested in women, he wouldn¡¯t look at them with improper eyes. But the reason why he was looking up at the witch girl who had her under bloomers showing under the bell of her skirt: was to ensure she didn¡¯t do anything stupid like saying ''YOLO!'' and jump. This war already had too many casualty, no need to see another innocent soul disappear after landing on their face from 30 meters high. Even if she proudly stated she could turn into a bird with her magic, Raymond Collishaw still saw her as a child with sophisticated delusions.


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it, Sleipnir. You hate flying, wreching your guts out every time I do a barrel roll. Yet you have no issues walking around a 65 feet air traffic control tower. It¡¯s a miracle you can even hear me.¡±


    ¡°Th-that¡¯s only because I¡¯ve established a Telepathic link between our minds. Only what you want to say lout loud could be heard and I can hear you muttering how old fashion my bloomers are! Th-they used to be all the rage b-back in London in the 1850s!¡±


    ¡°How old are you again?¡±


    ¡°D-don¡¯t make me transform into a Hippo and sit on you.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that make you fat?¡±


    ¡°S-shut up! I¡¯ll do it! I¡¯llf**king jump and smack you like a Walrus!!¡±


    "...Sure."


    "WIPE THAT SMIRK OFF YOUR D@MN FACE!"


    Raymond Collishaw was a nice guy (historically). He would rarely show what he was thinking on his face, especially to his commanding officers on a bad day. But since it was the irresponsible Witch girl who wore a showy dress made out of 1000 rave feathers, he had no need to hide what he was feeling. On the flip side, he felt comfortable to express his inner thoughts when needed.


    ¡°If you¡¯re going to jump. Jump.¡±


    ¡°H-how cruel! Wh-what if I was sick of this war and this cruel world! That I had enough and I want to end everything!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll just use some hocus pucs to summon a marshmallow cushion to break your fall. You used that when we got shot down and were about to hit the ravines in Ypres, remember?¡±


    ¡°D*mn it, are all of my secrets exposed!? What''s next, someone from the enemy''s intelligence department is starting to record my three sizes... God-D@mn it why did I say that!¡±


    The Canadian Witch pulled at her long black and silky hair. It wasn¡¯t hard enough to make her instantly bald, but it was emotional enough to tell everyone 25 meters down below her (muttering how outdated her bloomers were) how upset she was. Soon, she genuinely looked depressed and the setting she was in didn''t improve her innocent image.


    ¡°I¡¯m sick of this war. This world is cruel. No one is my friend. No one cares if I become a stain on the dirt. H*ll, even in a busy airbase like this, no one will turn to my body when it hits the ground¡­ sniff. Good bye evil world.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to tell the coroner to reconstruct your face afterwards.¡±


    ¡°Kyaaa! I-I forgot how physical impact can smash in my skull! I-I don¡¯t want that! I don¡¯t want people seeing my brains blown apart. I change my mi¡ªAh.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡±


    The Canadian Pilot and the Canadian Witch let out a small sound in unison. The girl was not suicidal, at least not anymore, because because she was reckless with her footing (stiletto shoes), she slipped off the ledge and fell over the air traffic control towe. She shouldn¡¯t have snuck in that bag of potatoe chips during the break, she lamented to herself.


    Since it was a 3000 ftdrop, she had time to delay her scream by 10 seconds before going full throttle.


    ¡°¡­Hmm. Sh...She¡¯ll be fine with a Marshmallow cushion. Yeah.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯VE ALREADY USED UP ALL OF MY SPELL SLOTS FOR THE DAY! SAVE ME! SAVE MEEEEE! GYAAAAAAAAAAAAH!¡±


    ¡°¡­Sh*t.¡±


    To summarize the ending of the story, the thought of a mosquitoe being swattered by a fly catcher did not come to mind. Rather, a certain Canadian Pilot threw his body down in the line of fire, to catch a beautiful girl who fell from the sky.


    ¡°¡­R-Ray-Ray. Y-you¡¯re so bold. Shudder shudder. You¡¯re touching my butt.¡±


    ¡°No. Your @ss is crushing my skull. Get off and call the medic. I can¡¯t feel my back."


    Don¡¯t worry, Raymond Collishaw lived to fly another day in history.

 Sixth Pedal of the Lily (Contact)

    ¡°R-Ray-Ray. D-do you like Italian?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t eat much pizza pie, but my mom¡¯s recipe for Spaghettit with squid ink is pretty good.¡±


    ¡°¡­I was referring to that Italian magician girl you''re following. Not food. God-D@mn it, I¡¯m not even sure if I¡¯m housewife-angry or growth-spurt hungry right now!¡±


    The Italian Borders. Contrary to some World War Fanatics, Italy was not an enemy during the First World War. No, rather, they were invaded by Germany, hard and fast. They barely had a chance to protect themselves and by the time they gathered their fighting spirit, the Italian Government had surrendered a good portion of ground to the enemy.


    However, since the invasion by the German Army, there have been a formation of soldiers across the Italian front to kick out the enemy from their land. The most hardcore unit among them, were the Arditi. Classified as Italian Shock Troopers who were extensively trained to carry heavy metal armor and handheld heavy machine guns. They were the ones to jump into enemy territory, to claim strategic defenses and break through the armored lines. On the side, they would have a small and portable division that specialize in sabotage against Imperial German tanks, vehicles, supply lines, as well as Flak Towers.


    These brave men and women were all volunteers, who want to serve and protect their homeland from the enemy forces. This would also include the Italian Druidic Circles who support the regular forces in fighting against magicians serving in the Central Powers. A certain Canadian Pilot and a certain Canadian Witch were suppoed to come in contact with one of their intelligence Druid. However there were some, ahem, miscommunication to deal with.


    ¡°So tell me, Ray-Ray. Wh-what did you think of that Italian Girl? S-sure sh-she¡¯s got a nice body, hips that flare out harder than a vase, b-but I win when it comes to bust comparison!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re here to deliver top-priority intelligence to the Italians for their raid on the Castle D''Isonzo up in the Italian alps. The Germans are holding strong and they¡¯ve already fortified their anti-air defenses with the the Maxim Anti-Air Machine guns stolen from a British Supply Convoy in Belfort. They¡¯ll tear the Allied Air Force apart if we get near it. We need the Italian''s help to sabotaging the guns in exchange for information.¡±


    ¡°Y-you say that this trip in Venice i-is strictly business, b-but I know there¡¯s a serendipitous amount of pleasure going under the cloth!¡±


    ¡°¡­Sleipnir. You¡¯re using serendipitous wrong.¡±


    ¡°No. I know my Webster dictionary as tightly as knowing every forbidden grimoire recorded on the Index Librorum Prohibitorum. A-and ey-eyes up here, not my breasts!¡±


    ¡°I was looking over your shoulder to see if any German spies were following you. Stop shaking your hips so much or you¡¯ll catch attention.¡±


    ¡°I-I¡¯m hurt! My pride as a woman is hurt!¡±


    The one who was present in Venice to deliver crucial information to allied Italians, was a certain Canadian Pilot. An Ace among the Aces, he has flown more than 50 aerial skirmishes and have been in his fair share of dogfighting. He had about two to three encounters with the notorious German Red Baron and even earned admiration from the enemy Ace himself.


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    The Canadian Pilot had flown in on his beloved all black Triplane Sopwith carved Black Maria, all the way from the shores of Cambrai to the border of Italy. To prevent the enemy noticing allied aerial intervention, he had to hide his plane in a hidden allied air base, and travel to Venice by foot and train. His name was Raymond Collishaw, a young man born and raised on a small town on an island off the mainland coast of British Columbia.


    Accompanied with him to meet the Italian Informant was his partner. A so-called magician of the Canadian Witch Corp. Please note, in a busy city filled with art and ravines, this girl stuck out like a sore thumb. It was mostly because of showy her dress made out of 1000 raven feathers was. She showed 80% too much skin for even the most daring of woman to display. If Ballroom Dances or treading the Red Carpet had standards, she breached every single one and be the first to be kicked out.


    ¡°I could see the lust in your eyes, Ray-Ray. Just when you had my body all to yourself every night! How dare you go behind my back and commit adultery in front of my very face! That Italian woman even blew a kiss at your direction! How could I not go housewive rage mode on you!¡±


    ¡°¡­First of all, you keep slipping in my bed because you sleep walk too much. Two, I toss you out every night and lock you in the armoury or else I lose five hours of sleep. Three, the gesture was a code to ensure we got the right person.Think about it, would a German Witch blow a kiss as a military code?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­I¡­I have trouble just breathing being around you a-and I¡¯m half-British half-Canadian!¡±


    ¡°See. It means she is the Italian informant we need to contact and deliver the information to.¡±


    ¡°I still smell the orchids of adultery going on. Don¡¯t you make any fast move.¡±


    ¡°We have to, I think we¡¯re being followed.¡±


    ¡°H-heh? S-stalkers? For me? A-already? (O///O)¡±


    ¡°¡­No. (-_-)¡±


    Raymond Collishaw may not have been this type of man in history, but this version definitely frowned. He kept glancing over his shoulder, peeking over theVenician ravines to the market stalls roads. He could spot two peculiar figures in the crowd that kept hovering in and out of the shadows. They both had this peculiar coned hat, and it didn''t look anything like a Hun''s helmet.


    ¡°Tch. You¡¯re right, Ray-Ray. They¡¯re Magicians and definitlely a Kraut! Only they could manipulate shadows as a portal from one street to another. I should have known!¡±


    ¡°Said the self-proclaimed member of the Canadian Witch Corp.¡±


    ¡°I-I was distracted! Y-you kept having such close conversation with the Italian girl tha-that I completely forgot about the enemy. I-it¡¯s all your fault, take responsibility!¡±


    ¡°Now isn¡¯t the time to be talking about a shotgun marriage.¡±


    ¡°Uwa-uwa-uwa. S-shotgun marriage. Th-then that means I¡¯m with your child (>///<.¡±


    ¡°Sleipnir. Don¡¯t.¡±


    The Canadian Pilot ducked his head with a mutter and moved along. In front of him was the Italian Druid who was part of the Arditi anti-magic unit. Due to the fact magic exist, only in secret, she had to maintain her identity as an Italian Nun who was part of the medical unit in the Arditi. She was risking exposing her identity to enemy Magicians by meeting the Canadian Pilot and Witch. So it was his duty to protect her¡­ and the noisy girl in the 1000 raven feathers dress he was dragging behind her.


    ¡°R-Ray-Ray! S-stop yanking my arm around! I-I¡¯m very delicate, my shoulder will make a nasty pop sound and I don¡¯t wan to wear any sling on my wedding day! And why do you have to hold onto that Italian Druid''s hands too! She¡¯s a nun! You can¡¯t touch her! Not to mention, everyone is staring at us! Th-they¡¯ll think this is a messed up love triangle¡­ Gasp! Th-they might even thing we¡¯re a thressome!¡±


    ¡°Sleipnir. Five o¡¯clock.¡±


    ¡°D-don''t change the subject to avoid your guilt! Tch,I see him. I¡¯ll scorch the Kraut b*tch! Firebolt!¡±


    Timing her shot like that of a proffesional sniper, the Canadian Witch snapped her fingers to unleash a plume of Green Flame at a moving shadow. The Canadian Pilot turned in time to see it connect, the figure of a woman going up in flames. He didn¡¯t hear a scream, the enemy witch already threw herself into the ravine to put out the flames. Vicious.


    ¡°¡­Is that Greek Fire? The Water is only make the flames bigger. That¡¯s too cruel, Sleipnir.¡±


    ¡°Heh. I specialized in fire magic, darling. So don¡¯t push me around like a housewife that doesn¡¯t know anything, or else I¡¯ll burn you.¡±


    ¡°Duck.¡±


    ¡°What?¡ªGUBYAAAH!¡±


    The Canadian Witch¡¯s magic was top notch, emulating the enemy magician in flames that only intensify with more water splashed onto it. And she could predict where the Shadow Portals will open, so she could shoot more flames at the pursuing agents.


    But her reflex was sh*t. She missed the low hanging Pizzaria sign that the Canadian Pilot. As the Druid girl was born and raised in Italy, she already ducked without even seeing up front. And by the off chance, someone could see a cute smirk under her nun hood.


    ¡°Nyaaaah! (@x@) W-we¡¯ll have 30 babies, and they¡¯ll all be called Ray-Ray 1, Ray-Ray 2, Ray-Ray 3--¡±


    ¡°Miss Italian Witch. You have some kind of voodoo that could heal people right? Does it work on this pathetic witch?¡±


    ¡°Oooooh! Starry pantieis! Hiccup! (@.@)¡±


    ¡°¡­Or anything to shut her up.¡±


    In the end, Raymond Collishaw was able to provide the necessary intelligence to the Arditi forces, and getting their help to sabotage the anti-air cannons at Castle D''Isonzo in order to provide full air support. It only cost the Italian Druid girl''s healing magic and a Silence Spell.

 Seventh Fleet of the Maidens (WoW)

    ¡°R-Ray-Ray, don¡¯t look! Don''t look!! (O///O)"


    ¡°¡­Sleipnir...Are you a mermaid? Or are you stuck getting into a sleeping bag again?"


    ¡°I SAID DON¡¯T LOOK GOD-D@MN IT!¡±


    The shore of Dunkerque, France were very convenient for the war effort. Mostly because there are the existence of Imperial German U-boat that were scouring under the water, dominating the aquatic free range. Their very purpose of creation is much like a battleship, only they were capable of diving down at various depths, and then pop up to shoot down any allied vessels in their area. In a sense, it was similar to a ''surprise motherf**ker'' class scenario, but that was no the primary case right now.


    In Europe, where the main theatre of war was most wild, of course there would be a fleet of U-Boats filing the seas around Britain, Germany, France, and Italy. The best way to avoid them would be to use prototype sonars, but they¡¯re only effective to a limited range. Once it detects the enemy underwater ship, them torpedoes were already half way from sinking them. At most, a wall of underwater mines would help, but as the Germans were developing anti-mine technology, it was only a matter of time before they cut through the floating defenses. However, with the existence of magic and magicians, a new form of anti U-Boat tactic had been deployed.


    ¡°So let me get this straight. There are witches that can transform into fish, witches that control fishes, and witches who could shape their lower half after a fish¡­ So, are you a real mermaid by chance? Actually, don''t move. I want to take a picture of you for my sisters back home. Cicely and Inez are definitely going to post your portrait in their bedrooms.¡±


    ¡°I-I told you don¡¯t look at me! Th-this Transformation Spell is only effective if I¡¯m naked! Th-the fibres in clothing wi-will only distort and interfere with the Arcanic Formula so I have to be stripped clean to use the spell! M-my hair may be long enough to over my breasts, b-but my lower half is still in danger! Even if ¡®that area¡¯ is covered in transparent fish scales! N-now look away!...ENGLISH, RAYMOND COLLISHAW, DO YOU SPEAK IT!? STOP TAKING MY PICTURES FOR YOUR PERVERTED SISTERS!!!!!¡±


    The hidden Magic Corp that was supporting the British, Australia, French, Italian, and American fronts were working around the clock to both help their non-magic comrades in the war, without violating their protocol of absolute Magic Secrecy. It was a fine line to cross, so it took time and consideration before they use any tactics to help the war effort.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    For example, deploying Allied Witches who specialize in animal transofmration, animal manipulation, or even animal personification. The last one was to turn into human form of the chosen animal, the upper half a person and the lower half the animal. The legends of centaurs and mermaids were all based on sightings of undercover magicians searching for U-Boats or artillery hidden in forests, apparantly (added with some swigs of Whiskey).


    Namely, a certain Canadian Witch that a certain Canadian Pilot was paired up with was part of the Underwater Survey Corp to prevent enemy U-Boats from sliping through cracks in the anti-ship mine defensive. That, or to warn the local allied bases of a possible invasion by aquatic beasts summoned from the enemy''s power. It was hard work, but the program had a lot of happy (healthy) volunteers.


    ¡°¡­Say. About the Canadian Witch Corp. It¡¯s really does consisted of nothing but girls, right?¡±


    ¡°THAT¡¯S THE F**KING REASON WHY I KEEP TELLING YOU TO NOT LOOK! NO RUN AWAY OR THEY''LL INITIATE THEIR OWN VERSION OF THE WITCH HUNT ON YOU, BUCKO!¡±


    Raymond Collishaw was the name of the Canadian Pilot in question. His heroics in the first World War 1 had been so well known, an airport in his hometown was named after him (current day: rat b@stards changed the name TxT). His accomplishment was long and renown, however this wasn¡¯t the main focus on this situation right now.


    He was just having a stroll by the Dunkerque Beach shores, some distance away from the local base he was stationed at. There were maidens, scattered all over the beaches. All of then were either naked, had fish tails, or were turning into sea creatures like seals, otters, salmon, to even tuna. And there was a mystical full moon, the light really emphasized their ''many features''. The Pilot looked at them with the eyes of a curious gentlemen. The Witches all stared at him with the eyes of sailors who have been out in sea for too long.


    ¡°Oh sh*t. I-I didn''t think of the opposite effect! GET OUT OF HERE, RAY-RAY! BEFORE THE GIRLS ALL MARCH AFTER YOU LIKE ZOMBIES IN AN APOCOLYPSE!¡±


    ¡°I see now. So it¡¯s not just the men who go crazy at the first sight of a girl. It¡¯s also the same in reverse.¡±


    ¡°SO WHY THE H*LL AREN¡¯T YOU RUNNING FROM A STAMPEDE OF BOY-CRAZED WITCHES!?!?¡±


    As much as the circumstances should be more like ¡®KYAA! PERVERT ON THE NUDE BEACH!¡¯ ¡®DEATH TO STALKERS!¡¯, the reaction was rather the opposite, or flipside. All the Witches who were part of the anti-U Boat program defensive charged to this Canadian Pilot. As if he wasthe last sardine to a flock of seagulls.


    ¡°No! G-get away from him! R-Ray-Ray is my war partner! H-he¡¯s exclusive to me!Me only! Gah! How long have these idiot women not seen a man! They¡¯re not listening to ration or reason! Kkkkkkk! GET THE F**K OFF HIM, YOU B*TCHES! HE¡¯S MY HUSBAND!!¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯m not. I¡¯m still single.¡±


    ¡°D-DON¡¯T JUST UP AND SAY THAT IN FRONT OF 150 WITCHES LIKE THAT! NYAAAAAH! THIS GOD-D@MN SWORD FISH TAIL IS WEIGHING ME DOWN! I CAN¡¯T STOP THESE OBSSESSED WOMEN! NO! DON¡¯T ASK HIM FOR HIS PHONE NUMBER! REMEMBER RAY-RAY! NAME ¨C RANK ¨C AND SERIAL NUMBER ONLY!¡±


    ¡°Flight Lieutenant Raymond Collishaw. Royal Naval Air Service (now: Royal Air Force), Canadian Regiment. Serial Number N533-26A1. My hobbies are fly fishing, painting, plane repair, and swimming. My favorite music is jazz.¡±


    ¡°NOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO OOOOOO! DON¡¯T STEAL MY HUSBAND! DON''T STEAL MY HUSBAAAAAAAND!¡±


    For the record, Raymond Collishaw was marriedto Juaneita Eliza ''Neita'' Trapp, in Mayfair England July 14, 1923.And no, this Canadian Witch was not his mistress. Not historically.


    "Sob...Sob...My darling...my soul mate... Don''t take him away from meeeee...Sob."

 Eighth Forge of Metal (Crying)

    ¡°¡­Ray-Ray¡­M¡­my virgininty is broken.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just a cut from a stray bullet. And it''s just a cut to your side, not your....... Just hold still while I bandage you.¡±


    ¡°It will still be a scar on my body forever! This is no laughing matter for a girl!!"


    ¡°Ssssh. The enemy is still close by. If you want, you can bite this tree twig.¡±


    ¡°¡­Nein!--MMMPH!¡±


    Belgium had been invaded. The German Opposition had pushed their way up through the border and were now delivering a flow of German Tanks to subjugate the Allied Defensive of Australian and British Forces in the sector. Everything was taking a toll in the trenches dug out near the Belgium-France border, and things didn¡¯t look so good on both sides.


    For example, a certain Canadian Pilot had been shot down in the aerial fight over that border. His beloved all black Triplane Sopwith took a beating and had crash landed right in the middle of No Man¡¯s Land. It was a suicide zone, the mud was already saturated with rain water and debris from the endless artillery shells that kept hammering the fields that were once a blazing emerald land. Here came another volley of mortars gouging out the Earth''s bloodied body


    ¡°I-it¡¯s going dark. I-I¡¯m starting to see my vision fading. R-Ray-Ray! I-I¡¯m scared. Please hold me tight!¡±


    ¡°¡­It¡¯s just the shadow of German bomb flying over our heads. Keep quiet or else the tail gunner will notice us.¡±


    ¡°NYAAH! MY EYES! TOO BRIGHT!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the sun after the German bomber flew over our heads. Get down, I think the tail gunner noticed us a bit!¡±


    ¡°Uuuh! Wh-what do we do, Ray-Ray! We-we¡¯ve crash landed behind enemy lines! So-so the Krauts will overrun the front trenches and find us! Ugh! I-I can¡¯t imagine all the nasty punishment they have for a Prisoner of War, especially when it¡¯s delicate maiden like me! Magician or not, they¡¯ll find all sorts of terrible methods to applied to my chaste body! Nyaaah! I¡¯m doomed.¡±


    ¡°¡­Sleipnir.¡±


    ¡°Y-yes, Ray-Ray?¡±


    ¡°Head down - now.¡±


    ¡°H-heh? I-in your lap!? (O///O)...S-so daring--GYAAAAH!"


    Raymond Collishaw was a gentlemen. He would never take advantage of a woman no matter how desperate the situation was. But, sometimes, he had to be rough ¨C especially when he had to shove the Canadian Witch down into the runny mud and shoot back at two enemy soldiers climbing into the fox hole they were in.


    ¡°¡­Ptoo...I¡­feel so violated.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just mud. You should be glad we didn¡¯t land inside a German compound.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll burn those f**kers.¡±


    ¡°You say that, but you missed several magicians in the air that were attacking us. They were even riding on broomsticks, not the regular Fokkers or Gotha G.Vs. How are you useful in this situation!?¡±


    ¡°¡­.........Sob.¡±


    ¡°Sorry. I shouldn¡¯t be yelling at you while you¡¯re covered in mud.¡±


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.¡°AT LEAST YOU¡¯RE SMART ENOUGH TO PICK UP A CUE!¡±


    Raymond Collishaw wasn¡¯t the type of person who would frown at a bad situation. But since this was war and he was in a tight pinch, he had every right to frown over the lamentation of their issue. He was caught in the dead middle of No Man¡¯s Land. The one side was Allied Forces hiding in trenches. The other side were Central Power forces hiding in trenches. The biggest problem he was thinking about right now was ¨C which side was which. It''s not like they would fly squadron flags on their backs, this wasn''t the Japanese Sengoku Period.


    After the crashing of his beloved all black Triplane, he lost his point of direction. Hiding in a fox-hole, he was too low inside the ground to see where the ocean was as a point of reference. At this rate, taking the wrong guess of a direction would land him in hot water. No joke, the Germans have developed new torture techniques to break even the strongest of spies and agents they tend to capture. He didn¡¯t want to verifiy the efficiency of this newfound interrogation technology, not personally.


    ¡°¡­Sleipnir. We¡¯re not close to either forces, so you can use your magic without them noticing right? And the Magicians on the German side are still out there in the sky, you should be authorized to use some magic to get us out of this mess, right?¡±


    ¡°Y-you say that but I¡¯ve already used up three major spell slots just to bomb the Kraut tank column we flew over before we got gunned down. I-I only have two minor slots for the day, I can¡¯t be too careless.¡±


    ¡°Is there anything you know that could provide cover from an aerial attack? The last thing I want as a pilot is to gunned down by a plane while I¡¯m on the ground. It¡¯s bad for my career profile.¡±


    ¡°Y-you say that as if you¡¯re avoiding a bad investment. I-I¡¯m not a super secret hover tank or jumping airplane, I¡¯m just a Witch!¡±


    ¡°And look how effective your efficiency is.¡±


    ¡°¡­Sob.¡±


    ¡°Sorry. You¡¯re still covered in mud. I take that back.¡±


    The Canadian Pilot frowned, yes again. As much as he didn¡¯t have time to deal with a Canadian Witch who also doubled as a crybaby, he still felt guilty for covering her in mud. No, he wasn¡¯t trying to invent mud wrestling, obviously not under these warring circumstances. Still, they had to figure out a plan to protect hem from both the enemy on the ground and the magical enemy flying around above them. Raymond Collishaw stilldidn''t believe or trust magic, but better safe than having someone drop a big@ss animal on him out of the blue.Havingsomething like a Walrus sit on him while in No Man''s Land is a bad way to go.


    ¡°I-I think I know what to do. I have aMagnet Shield Spell where I can collect scraps of metal to form a movable barrier. With the right concentration and providing my arcane materials are still intact, we should be ableto pull it off and¡­.Er¡­but.¡±


    ¡°¡­But what? If it¡¯s going to save our skin, why are you hesitating?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­Sleipnir. Why are you looking at Black Maria?¡±


    Black Maria was Raymond Collishaw¡¯s beloved all black Triplane Sopwith from the Royal Naval Air Service (now Royal Air Force). 90% of his military career, he had been riding this beautiful vehicle in his later campaigns in the middle of the First World War. It was his iconic craft, and the signature color that made up his personal No. 10 Naval Squadron (callsign: Black Flight). However, it was gunned down and crash landed in No Man¡¯s Land. Thered lightning from German Magicians knocked out its engines, the same people who were now circling them in the air on flyingantannae standsandlevitating motorcycles


    Right now, it was nothing but a metallic mess that was half buried in the Belgium-French Mud. A wing snapped off, the propellers shattered, and half of the tail was crooked on a 15 degree angle. No matter how talented an engineer at the time could be, it was impossible to fix under these circumstances. So flying away on it again was out of the question.


    ¡°¡­.No. H*ll no. I won''t let you desecrate her body.¡±


    ¡°D-don¡¯t you want to live forever, Ray-Ray?¡±


    ¡°Anything but Black Maria. She''s already had it rough. Leave her out of this.¡±


    "........................................"


    "...Son of a b--"


    It was heavily debated by historians whether or not Raymond Collishaw was the type of man to swear so casually. For now, let''s say he was not happy about the terms of his rescue. In the end, the Canadian Pilot swallowed his pride, grit his teeth¡­ and bolted out of the fox hole with the Canadian Witch on his back. With whatever magic she had left for the day, she controled a series of metal plates and engines parts to swirl around them like a pinpoint barrier, blocking enemy fire from stray bullets and magic. They psychollogically flipped heads or tails, and went Westbound. Good fortune, they ran into a local air base controlled by the Belgium Resistance who were aiding the Allies.


    ¡°Don¡¯t cry Ray-Ray. I-if it¡¯s any consolation, y-you can hug me all you want as compensation. I-I don''t mind even if you squeeze me.¡±


    "... Black Maria... To go out like that... You were so young."


    "I-I''m so sorry, Ray-Ray (>x&lt!!"

 Ninth Stir of the Iron (Seige) [POLL]

    ¡°Since you¡¯ve been a good boy, Ray-Ray. I¡¯ll cook.¡±


    ¡°¡­No thank you. I¡¯ll have my rations.¡±


    ¡°SO RUDE! AND I FINALLY FOUND AN APRON THAT MATCHES MY EYES!¡±


    Palace of Versailles. It was a royal structure located close to the capital of France, Paris. It was built and has housed the many royal familes that have led the ancient Kingdom of France, through the days of King Louis the XIV, through even the blazes of the French Revolution. Now, it was considered one of the major strongholds that held France together during the era of the First Great War. Imperial German Forces are aiming to stake claim to this keep, in order to gain influence over all of France. In order to prevent their conquest, the Allies have cordoned them off from conducting a major offensive.


    That still didn''t stop some planes and heavy artillery platoons to slip through some loophole in the defensive line, and formed a seige against the Palace itself. Now, Allied garrisons of mixed French and British-Canadian Forces were held up in the palace, along with some civilians and refugees that barely made it out of the streets showered by mortars and artillery shells. Rations were running low, and the nearest relief force will take five more days before they could turn back and break the German seige.


    "...Sleipnir. Something''s burning."


    "Nonsense. That''s the natural scent of Salem Specialty Pumpkin pie. It''s the recipe of my great, great, great, great, great grandmother. You should be grateful, this is a secret recipe handed down my family line. Fu-fu-fu."


    "... Seriously. It''s turning black."


    "SON OF A B*TCH, I STILL CAN''T CONTROL REGULAR GAS HEAT!"


    It was up to the many division in the military and civilian population to reorganize their food distribution and ration their supplies to feed over 500 soldiers and 200 civilian/refugees, before the Alllies break through enemy blockade to resupplied.


    Within that military division, there were magicians. Members of the Canadian Witch Corp, Austrialian Sorceress Unit, the British Magic Division, and even the French Paladins of the St. Joan Church. Believe it or not, these magic-only war combatants were all girls. And a good 90% of them were smart and talented cooks. They know how to conserve the right ingredients over along periods of time, perversing critical meats and vegetables in areas of the palace refuge that lost electricity to refridgerate them, and figure out a way to use little resources to feed over500 soldiers and 200 civilians.


    The legend of feeding 3000 people with only three loaves and two fishes was the basis of their strategy. The first five days after Palace of Versailles was re-captured from the Imperial German, theyhad successfully preserved 1/3 of the overall food provisions without compromising nutrition, meal size, or taste. God Bless the Witch Corps.


    ¡°I¡¯m very confident in my ability to cook. Even my Potion Master saidI was talented in making a Love Potion with only an Eye of Newt and the Hair of a Chaste Unicorn.¡±


    ¡°¡­I¡¯m going home.¡±


    ¡°At-at least tasted this Omellete Rice before you judge me! I worked very hard to make it exactly like how those Priestess in the Eastern Oriental Island could pull off!¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    In the kitchen of a restaurant turned military cafeteria, there were particular two members of the Allied Forces who present the arcane and the non arcane. The Non Arcane was a Pilot from Canada, serving the RoyalNaval Air Service (now Royal Air Force)and was the commanding officer of the No 10 Naval Squadron (callsign: Black Flight). He was also recognized as the Ace among Aces, being close ranked to the Billy Bishop of the British Air Fleet and the notorious German Red Baron.


    His name was Raymond Collishaw born and raised from a small town in Vancouver Island, British Columbia. Now, it¡¯s not very clear whether or not he liked or hate carrots, for now, he was frowning when his partner, a member of the Canadian Witch Corp, offered a spoon of questionable rice¡­ or¡­ whatever it was she was offering.


    ¡°Now, be like a good husband-doting-over-his-super-cute-housewife and say Aaaaahn.¡±


    ¡°¡­Sleipnir. I need to fly tomorrow to escort the supply convoy from German interceptors. I can¡¯t be stuck to the toilet all day.¡±


    ¡°Are you comparing my cooking to laxatives?¡±


    ¡°¡­Now that you mention it, it could help with some medical assistance at the local hospital right next to the Palace.¡±


    ¡°Ray-Ray. If you weren¡¯t a handsome man, I would f**king slap you.¡±


    The Canadian Witch stuck out like a sore thumb. She was someone who would wear a showy dress made out of 1000 raven feathers. Totally not foodsafe regulations. Not to mention, she doesn¡¯t tie her long black shiny hair back in a chef-style ponytail (or side-tail for those who have... certain likings). There were time where Raymond Collishaw swore she would dipped her illustrious hair in some por of tomatoe sauce when she was looking for garlic powder in the shelf. Girl''s hair or not, it still wasn''t sanitary.


    ¡°I grew up on corn and rye bread. So relying on cheap rations is already good enough for me. if I change my diet now, I worry I¡¯ll get stomach cramps from adjusting to foreign materials I will be ingesting.¡±


    ¡°D-don¡¯t make my food and excellent culinary skills sound like food you don¡¯t want to eat in another country. I keep telling you, sliced raw fish on rice mixed with vinegar is a legitmate dish in the island nation in the east! And don¡¯t the Chinese like food like Pigs Blood or Chicken Feet! I¡¯m serious when I say this French Onion Soup is an original recipe i found in the castle kitchen! Why won''t you believe me!?¡±


    ¡°I appreciate your dedication to the culinary art, and providing a hand among the other 250 Witches supporting the war front with their cooking skills... But, I don¡¯t want high command mistaken a mass food poisoning for a mustard gas attack.¡±


    ¡°Th-that was a complete and unintentional accident! I-I only said I spilled the mustard powder, not gas! And people freaked out! Wh-what¡¯s so frighten about mustard!? Don¡¯t the people in America put it on everything they eat?¡±


    ¡°Mustard Sauce and Mustard Gas are two totally different thinks that have their own recognizable human reactions. And don''t give the American soldiers such depressing labels, they already hate their situation in being dragged so late into this senseless war."


    ¡°Speaking of which, why did those U.S. marines give me a sour look when I gave them English Muffins this morning? I used the original recipe without deviation, so why did they scowl at me like I gave them a lousy tip at a bar?¡±


    ¡°¡­Maybe it¡¯s because the Marines were born from the hatred of the English Flag during the war of 1812. That, or they prefer hamburgers and processed cheese over any meal.¡±


    ¡°Now who was talking about putting a depressing label on people again?"


    So in the end, they didn¡¯t have the Witch¡¯s cooking, neither did they suffice with rations (save those for dinner). They spent the evening eating on Cup Noodles.


    ¡°¡­You¡­ say this is from the future?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a Forbidden Spell, where we transportitems from the future. Something like this could put us in a trial worst than the ones in Salem''s history. But honestly the only time I would ever use all of my Spell Points to summon cr*p from the future is something that¡¯s delicious and fills the stomach. Ah, five minutes is over!Don¡¯t mind if I do. Sluuuuurp. Hmmm! I can¡¯t wait for1958 Japan! Sluuuuurp!!¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­Right.¡±


    Obviously, Raymond Collishaw did not actually eat any Cup Noodles in the First World War. That would be a silly historical fact.

 Tenth Training of the Raven (School)

    <hr>


    ¡°R-Ray-Ray. D-don¡¯t do this to me. M-my body and mind will break!¡±


    ¡°¡­ Sleipnir. We¡¯re just doing the take off procedure. There¡¯s no need to panic.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯M IN THE DRIVER SEAT OF A F***KING PLANE, HOW COULD A LOW-TECH WITCH LIKE ME NOT PANIC!?¡±


    The fight in World War 1 had experienced several major changes. First off, the enemy of the Central Powers have developed new and improved fighter bombers and multirole interceptors. There have been significant development among Imperial German aviation tehnology and they have enhanced the efficiency of their fighters combat ability and speed. Most of the pilots had difficulty adjusting, so this was the only factor that prevented Germany from launching a full scale air raid on strategic Allied Airbases in quick succession.


    Up to now, the British, Australians, Italians, Americans, Canadians, and other supporting Allied nations have stretched their resources thin. They¡¯re running out of talented pilots due to the never ending fight for aerial supremacy. Tanks were no good in anti-air fire, and the invention of flak cannons would not happen until the brewing of the Second World War (which none of these soldiers thought would ever happen again).


    So, the divisions involved in managing the hidden Witch Corp serving along side the regular army were drafted into Air Service division of their nation''s army, as well as given heavy armor training. This was to allow Witches who did not understand technology to fill in empty spots in fighting forces in absolute emergencies.


    The situation was that desperate. Witches who specializes in flying on inanimate daily objects like a dust broom, bicycle, table, or even umbrella were now receiving standard training to handle a flying machine. This was the most difficult process, in forcing those who trained in arcane magic to adapt to scientific mechanisms. The shift itself forced some poor Witched to vomit due to the dizziness they get whenever they read mathematical formula necessary in flight school. It was that bad, but as the Allied Command would answer: this was a necessary evil, please endure.


    ¡°N-no. R-Ray Ray. I-I can¡¯t take this. Th-this machine is too scary! Y-you make it look easy to fly this contraption, b-but th-there¡¯s no reliance on magical source that relies on the Cardinal Direction. Th-the concept of up and down is different and to not enchant something before hand in prepartions for magic flight j-just makes me feel so naked. C-can I get out now?¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t pass this flight exam, you¡¯ll be kicked out of the army.¡±


    ¡°HOW DESPERATE ARE THOSE OLD GEEZERS IN THE UNITED MAGIC COUNCIL COULD ACTUALLY BE!? WHY DO THEY FORCE US TO ADAPT TO TECHNOLOGY WHEN OUR ENTIRE HERITAGE AVOID USING IT IN THE FIRST GOD-D@MN PLACE!¡±


    ¡°This is war. We can¡¯t wait for the enemy to let us catch our breath and then have a fair fist fight. If they bloody our nose, there isn¡¯t a referee to stop the match ¨C they¡¯ll kicked us down while we¡¯re still reeling from the hit. H*ll, they¡¯ll even bring a Luger to a regular fencing duel, let alone avoid cheating with some kind of super weapon.¡±


    ¡°Sob. Sob. Sob. I-i¡¯m afraid of heiiiights.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re more afraid of vomiting in your lap.¡±


    ¡°D0N¡¯T POINT OUT MY WEAKNESS SO CASUALLY! M-MY PRIDE AS A WITCH IS IMPORTANT, LET ALONE AS A CHASTE WOMAN!¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°¡­Take your time. But you still have to fly a plane.¡±


    ¡°¡­..Uuuuuuh. (T_T)¡±


    Raymond Collishaw was an experience fighter pilot. It was due to his many feats in combat in the air, that he pushed the limits of aviational technology on the Allied side. He provided much feedback and personal experience of different air craft he had commandeered, allowing the scientist and engineers to improve equipment as well as making their newer plane models more convenient for human interface and control. Rumor had it that he was the one to suggest the triplane concept on the Sopwith Camel models, concluding that three wings provide better aerial acrobatics in heavy dogfights. Approved. In summary, he was more than eligible to become someone''s flight instructor, even if they were a non-tech-savvy Canadian Witch.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go over the basics. The glass and box in front of you is the dashboard, the main console of the plane. The ball that rotates in every direction tells you where the horizon is in case you spin out. Then there is the fuel guage to tell you how much gasoline you have to run the engine, then your fire safety switches, as well as control systems to manage the forward guns. Lucky for you, they¡¯re the Vickers machine gun. You don¡¯t have to fly and shoot a pistol at your enemies like the first fighter pilots did in 1914.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­.I-I¡¯m sorry. I was confused after you pointed at the spinning crystal ball thing. C-could you repeat it?¡±


    ¡°No. The handle your holding between your legs is called the joystick. It steers the plane. Just hold onto it firmly and give it a good twist to whichever side you want to take control to.¡±


    ¡°¡­.S¡­so erotic.¡±


    ¡°No. Now focus. We only have less than 5 hours before we have to clear the run-way for Naval Squadron No. 20 to take off on their bombing mission.¡±


    The student in question was one of those members from the Canadian Witch Corp. She was also his partner in anti-magic espionage and combat. Much to his disbelief at first, magic existed and it is a hidden war from those who do not believe or know magic is real. He still doesn¡¯t put that must trust in the arcane arts, but he has been ordered to work with this Witch to fight the enemy forces who apply magic or magicians into the combat. He is sworn to never tell anyone, as it was a global secret.


    He also plan on not telling anyone at how much of a nervous wreck his partner was the second she sat in the pilot seat of his all-black triplane Sopwith Camel (carved Black Maria). She never once let go of the joystick, even when she wasn¡¯t in the air, as if letting go would mean the end of her. It''s as if she didn''t want to experience the sensation of plummeting to her doom, even on the ground.


    ¡°¡­Sleipnir, are you even breathing?¡±


    ¡°Wh-what¡¯s breathing? OH DEAR GOD, ARE WE UP IN THE AIR! I-I¡¯M SICK! I NEED TO THROW UP!¡±


    ¡°¡­No. We¡¯re still on the airfield. You haven¡¯t even turn on the engines.¡±


    ¡°I-is that the necessary procedure? H-ha-ha-ha. I-if I don¡¯t turn on the engine, I-I can still fly this thing right? I-I mean, as weak level as I am I can en-enchant this piece of junk to make it levitate 10 inches off the ground. Th-that should count for something. R-right? Right!?¡±


    ¡°The requirement for this test: no magic. You¡¯re ordered to keep magic a secrecy and use it only if the enemy has magic or if using whatever powers you have could not be seen by anyone else. In this regular air base, everyone is going to watch 115 Witch posing as cute boys taking off the runway. Everyone who don¡¯t know you exist think it was a drill exercise for a trainee group and not a test.¡±


    ¡°An-and what was the consquences if I fail again?¡±


    ¡°What do you think?¡±


    ¡°G-get stripped butt naked and tied to a light post for 48 hours.¡±


    ¡°¡­I think honorable discharge sounds more cost-efficient.¡±


    ¡°NOOOOOOO! I WANT TO SERVE MY COUNTRY! I WANT TO BE A PROUD CITIZEN OF THE NATION FLYING THE MAPLE LEAF! I-I KNOW HOW TO SING O''CANADA BACK WARDS! I-I LOVE MAPLE SYRUP AND I HAVE A PET BEAVER IN MY ROOM!¡±


    ¡°¡­On behalf of my country, thank your for your heart-felt patroitism and dedication. Now fly.¡±


    ¡°Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! (>x&lt</img>¡±


    The deadline for the flight examination of all Witches was in two days. The Canadian Witch and her Magical Sisters in question had been going through a rigourous training regime for the last three days (total five days readiness). At this point, she only need to practice taking off, pull a figure eight, and land on the asphalt to pass the exam (fine print: zero crashes). She can do this, we believe in her.


    ¡°HURK! I-IT¡¯S SPINNING! O-OUT OF CONTROL! I-I¡¯M! BLURGH!¡±


    "HOW THE H*LL CAN YOU GET DIZZY FROM SEEING THE PROPELLERS SPIN! NOW GET OUT OF BLACK MARIA AND PUKE SOMEWHERE ELSE YOU PATHETIC WITCH!¡±


    The magical higher ups should reconsider a short-term crash course lesson in the science of flying.

 Eleventh Lesson of the Seal (Walrus)

    ¡°Ray-Ray! Look at this drawing. Arent¡¯t I a genius!? \(^v^)/¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Sleipnir. I¡¯m not interested in pornography. Please put it away.¡±


    ¡°G-Guh (O///o)! Th-this isn¡¯t any kind of erotic art! Th-this is a design schema for a new super weapon I was thinking about. Do you see these two balls, they¡¯re helium ballons! And this stick thing pointing out from between them is a .40 mm tank barrel!¡±


    ¡°It still looks ridiculous no matter what angle or reason I view this in.¡±


    ¡°i-I¡¯m hurt! (TxT)¡±


    The First Great War in the Battlefield called France had reached an all time high. The conflict between the Central Powers and the Allied Units have come into a deadlock between each other across the fields of Verdun, Versailles, Flanders, and Passchaendaele. The Great War had spurred on technological marvel, yet also gave birth to nightmarish weapons such as Chlorine gas, mounted machine guns, and the growing evolution of ground and air armored vehicles.


    The face of battle and tactics were always changing every day. Thatwas why a certain Canadian Witch planned on spurring the pace of the war by creating a weapon of her very own. The prototype for this new ¡®Doomsday Weapon 2.0¡¯ came in the form of a drawing used with graphite pencils and crayons. As true to the Canadian Pilot''s judgement, it looked like the product of a 5 year old''s creative mind.


    ¡°Sleipnir. I know you¡¯re working hard to help with the war effort. But this so called weapon of doom you¡¯ve concocted isn¡¯t like brewing a potion you boast at being good at. It involves a lot of engineering minds and talented mechanics to create something. An airplane alone would take two weeks to build if we relied on using wood and cheap steel. The more expensive stuff are left to Aces in the air force. Not to mention, tanks are ridiculously expensive and the British Mark V keeps breaking down at the wrong time.¡±


    ¡°Which is exactly why I¡¯ve developed a new super weapn that will trump all else! It¡¯s built with easy to search for parts and it has firepower of a Dreadnought while it¡¯s floating in the air! Fu-fu-fu, it¡¯s my best creation if I don¡¯t say so myself.¡±


    ¡°You hate machines. Admit it. You throw up the moment you see the propeller spin, and you run to the bathroom everytime you hear a tank fire its cannon. Not to mention the math involve always sends you to the infirmary in a frothing mess.¡±


    ¡°¡­ I-I¡¯ve overcome that o-obstacle.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s one divided by 2?¡±


    ¡°GOOD GOD, RAY-RAY! M-MY MAGICAL MIND IS ONLY CAPABLE OF SUPPORTING A MAXIMUM VELOCITY OF PLUSES AND MINUSES! P-PLEASE SPARE MEEEEEEEEE!¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    The Canadian Witch had a partner. In this war, people who were fighting it did not believe Magic exist. Unbenowst to them, it does and it is also overlapping in their war in terms of magical espionage and counter-intelligence. There has been hidden platoons and units among the various fighting forces who specialize in fighting enemy magicians, or prevent spelcasters from turning the tide of battle by cheating with magic. But since they weren¡¯t very talented in hand to hand combat, or even know how to use a gun, they are always paired up with high ranking combat officers to protect them. You know, the professionals.


    One of them would be a certain Canadian Pilot. He was known to be an Ace among Aces, close ranked to Billy Bishop of the British Air Force and the Red Baron of the German Luftstreitkrafte (not Luftwaffe). Having flown over 60+ combat missions and being the man who pushed the maxima of dogfighting to the very limit, he was assigned to this Canadian Witch as they protect the skies from enemy magic users hiding in the opposing air forces. His name was Raymond Colllishaw. Yes, he''s real, please find his name in the nearest WW1 Museum in your local area.


    ¡°Ray-Ray. Look me in the eye and answer me. Don¡¯t you think my new weapon idea has potential? It could effectively end the war, maybe even in a fortnite if the enemy knew of such a devious craft! The second they hear about this through their communications they''ll throw down their guns and go: Don''t shoot! Don''t shoot! I''ve lost my rifle! I surrender! I see nothing - NOTHING!¡±


    "..."


    "...John Banner. Ever heard of him?"


    "Is he a Singer?"


    "...Never mind darling (-_-)."


    The Canadian Witch let out a small sound like a balloon slowly leaking air from a tiny hole. It sounded depressing, maybe that''s the atmosphere she was trying to share with her partner while she flapped her hand-made drawing of her ''Doomsday Weapon 2.0''. It was a hot day in the Summer of France, non?


    ¡°Sleipnir. Even if the top brass approved of this concept, the design specs are not in proportion. The materials necessary to support such a huge vessel would be expensive, might even involve highly advanced rare earth metal to compensate for weight and payload. Also, there¡¯s no way a ship of this magnitude could even float, regardless of helium, let along carry a big@ss gun only Dreadnoughts could use.¡±


    ¡°B-b-b-but, wh-what about the German Zeppelins!?¡±


    ¡°They thought everything out, from the tiniest of bolt to the heaviest of bombs they¡¯re attaching. The math involved to reproduce a British version of it would just fry your brain.¡±


    ¡°¡­I-I¡¯m not scared.¡±


    ¡°Then come with me. The gunnery chief is holding a course in the Aerodynamics of tank shells. I think this could be excellent resource to improve your ¡®Doomsday weapon 2.0¡¯.¡±


    ¡°N-NO! A-ANYTHING BUT THAT CURSED MATHEMATICS! MY MIND WILL BE DEVOURED HARDER THAN A MINDFLAYER! Y-YOU CAN''T DO THIS TO ME, RAY-RAY! DON¡¯T DRAG ME! DON¡¯T DRAG ME! HEEEEEEEEELP!¡±


    Regardless of a great and elaborate idea, all major crafts used in the war relied on extreme levels of engineering and mechanical ingenuity. Even a single bolt on a plane could mean the life and death of the pilot, and thus wasting valuable resources, both human and machine.


    ¡°Come now, Sleipnir. Be a good girl and go inside. If it helps, there¡¯s a lot of cute guys in there.¡±


    ¡°EVEN IF THEY WERE ALL BORN WITH THE FACE CARVED BY MICHALANGELO, I DON¡¯T WANT MY MIND TO BE RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPED!¡±


    Moral of the story ¨C don¡¯t drop out of school, ever.


    "Stop frothing and pay attention to the Physics formula, Sleipnir."


    "G-gufbbbfbbfffgkkkkkkrrrggghggaaannnnnn! (@x@)

 Twelth Sleep of the Lion (Couples)

    ¡°Ray-Ray, I have a wonderful idea!¡±


    ¡°Sleipnir. It¡¯s three in the morning. In about two hours, we¡¯ll be sortieing to attack a German Bomber Factory being built in Belgium hills. Please get some sleep. Or you''ll fall asleep at the tail gun again.¡±


    ¡°Which is exactly why I need to talk to you about! So wake up and listen to me!¡±


    The Central Powers were planning a major offensive against the Allied Forces. In a few weeks time, they will push their armored divisions and dig out their trenches to push their control of area further and futher into Allied territory. The battlefronts of France, Italy, and Belgium were at an all time high. Hence why the British and Canadians of the Royal Naval Air Service (now called Royal Air Force) devised a plan to strike at the Central Power¡¯s critical production factories, faster than their major deployment.


    This was in hopes to stall, or even stop the advances all together. At the very least, the Imperial Germans would not be able to hit British, Australia, and American Forces too quickly when their defenses are at its weakest. Hence, why a selected handful of members from the No. 8, No. 9, and No. 10 Naval Squadron wil be sent on a stealth strike mission to bomb the Central Power¡¯s major production and supply train lines.


    One of those pilots was a certain Ace among Aces, someone who was closed ranked to the British Billy Bishop and danced with the German Red Baron. His name was Raymond collishaw. Right now, at 0230 in the morning, he was trying to get some sleep to prepare for the strike mission. Somehow, his partner wasn¡¯t at all sleepy.


    ¡°I think it would be a great idea if we saved up on our fuel and ammunitions, when we could slip into the enemy stronghols on foot. We can be economoically friendly by blowing up their factories with their own gunpowder and cr*p!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s already been done. Spies dispatched by the British and American Intelligence groups attempted to get close, but their covers were blown by the Imperial German counterintelligence and had to pull out. The idea of sending some foot soldiers to sabotage these factories would be suicide.¡±


    ¡°Ah. Here¡¯s the thing, Ray-Ray. The only reason why they¡¯ve been unsuccessful, is the fact they don¡¯t have an invisibility spell, or even be able to change their shape at will. Fu-fu-fu. Why, I can turn into a cute little kitty and the enemy won¡¯t give a f**k. Who knows, I might get adopted along the way. Ho-ho-ho.¡±


    "I heard German Shephards are having their mating seasons early. And due to the war, their frustrations have increased. I vouch against it."


    "Oh good lord, they''ll tear my body up in more ways than one! Th-there will be nothing left! I seriously do not want to bear their children!"


    ¡°Exactly. You say it''s a great idea, I believe you - but honestly, I prefer to take my chances up in the air than being trapped behind enemy lines on the ground. Good night.¡±


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.¡°A-at least listen to my plan in full detail! I¡¯ve been thinking about it since breakfast! It''s even more than 10 pages!"


    The partner of the Canadian Pilot wasn¡¯t exactly a soldier. Neither was she a civilian who enlisted herself for the war effort. Believe it or not, she was a member of the Canadian Witch Corp. It was because magic exist in secret, and the enemies in this war were using the same form of sorcery to gain advantage of the Allies in every front. Magic intelligence also noted that main reason why the Imperial Germans were who gung-ho about their up coming advances, was the fact their magicians were preparing to summon several creatures of mass destruction to spear head the invasion. The major codewords such as DRAGON, HYDRA, and GRIFFON were used in exchange of information.


    Furthermore, the Canadian Pilot and the Witch were being deployed in this united stealth offensive, due to the fact some targets they were given involved magic, or locations that supply the enemy magicians of their arcanic tools and ingredients. In other words, this was a mixed assault on both magical and scientific fronts.


    ¡°Honestly, Ray-Ray. Think about it. If we attack now, the air base will lack fighters and the fuel and ammunition we¡¯ve been saving would be wasted by half. If I¡¯m right, I think the Krauts are saying they plan on using a Dragon Familiar to attack Orleans and Paris, when really they¡¯re spreading misinformation to detour both our regular and anti-magic forces. It has to be the case!¡±


    ¡°Even if you are right, Sleipnir, you lack evidence to prove it could either be true. If we realy rush into a dangerous situation without thinking, we¡¯ll be just a stain on the floor like everyone else.¡±


    ¡°¡­.I-I¡¯m not afraid.¡±


    ¡°Who knows. Maybe the enemy magicians might capture you and examine your powers.¡±


    ¡°My god, they¡¯ll rape me for sure! Without the German Shephards! O-on second thought, it was a bad idea. Forget I said anything.¡±


    ¡°Or, you could be correct and they¡¯re feeding us false information. They could be trying to lure us out into a trap, or wanting to lower the attack units out of other bases.¡±


    ¡°MAKE UP YOUR MIND! AS SMART AS I AM, RAY-RAY, YOUR LOGIC IS CONFUSING ME!¡±


    The Canadian Witch curled up in her bedding, that was the top half of a bunk bed. The two were not in a public barracks that were normally shared by most soldiers in any bases. Since the Canadian Pilot was a commanding officer of the No. 10 Naval Squdraon (callsign Black Flight), he had his own room. But since he was assigned to have the Witch as his partner in fighting against enemy magicians, Human Resources offered his room a bunk bed. It was made out of metal, and the mattress were thin. The Pilot guessed the budget for comfort was slashed significantly in exchange for extra mortar productions.


    ¡°¡­I¡¯m sorry, Ray-Ray for running my mouth.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t sleep because you hate flying, right? Nervous?¡±


    ¡°Th-that¡¯s one of the few reasons why I¡¯m tossing in my bed. I''m sorry.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t get you another pillow for your back.¡±


    ¡°N-no, no! I-it¡¯s not that¡­ but, having one for my butt would be nice.¡±


    ¡°Good night.¡±


    ¡°I-I¡¯m j-just worried about you (>///&lt</img>!¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°This mission is super dangerous. Even if all the Kraut fighter planes are readying for their big attack, there¡¯s still those guns that could shoot us down from the ground right? What was it called, Flake? Flatstone? Fl-f**kgun? No, it¡¯s Flak, Yes! Flak guns!¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­.¡±


    ¡°I-if there¡¯s no magician as part of the immidate resistance forces, I-I''m not authorized to use my magic. Y-you¡¯ll get no shield spell or anti-bullet magnet field. I-I can¡¯t do anything. I¡¯ll be just dead weight to your plane.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­.¡±


    ¡°I¡­I¡­¡­..I don¡¯t want to lose you, Ray-Ray¡­.I¡­..I¡­..I love you. If you don''t mind me being selfish...I want to spend this precious night with you and have your chi¡ªGod-d@mn it Ray-Ray!!"


    When the Canadian Witch had confessed her true feelings to the Canadian Pilot, she would find his bunk empty underneath. She didn¡¯t know when, or how she didn¡¯t notice earlier, but his bed was made. As if he was ready to wake up for the day, have a shower, and set off to work.


    ¡°At least tell me you¡¯re going to have a bathroom break while I was running my mouth!....... Sob.¡±

 Thirteenth String of the Matchmaker (Not Red)

    ¡°Ray-Ray! Don¡¯t move, I have a plan.¡±


    ¡°If it involves fire, ice, or even lightning, don¡¯t. I beg of you.¡±


    ¡°¡­Okay¡­ Sniff.¡±


    Captured. It was the one thing solder would want to avoid running into in a Great War like the European Theatre. It was the second motivation to Death on the battlefield to work hard and fight the good fight in order to live another day. Because no one wants to face the horrors of interrogations, especially if the enemy didn¡¯t care whether you lived or died. Once they grab your shoulder, it was over.


    Unfortunately, a certain Canadian Pilot and a Canadian Witch were tied to chairs, back to back, and were sitting inside of an empty underground cell. Judging by the faint smell of Chardonnai and empty bottle racks, it used to be a wine cellar before it was refitted as an interrogation room. The Pilot in question was an Ace among Aces, but even he would experience moments where the enemy would down his beloved all black triplane Sopwith Camel marked Black Maria every now and then. Often times, he would crash land behind enemy territory.


    On a good day, he could make a straight run to the nearest allied trench, or border to have someone pick him up to the nearest Airbase. If we wasn¡¯t lucky, he would parachute down into a German machine gun nest. If he was lucky in being unlucky, they wouldn¡¯t shoot him on sight. Hence why Raymond Collishaw and the girl from the Canadian Witch Corp were tied up in a cold and damp room. Maybe it really was a lucky day, they didn¡¯t tie and gag the girl or hang her naked from the ceiling.


    ¡°¡­Th-this rope is too tight. I-it¡¯s squeezing my breasts out in the wrong way. Guh. I don''t want an Indian Rope burn!¡±


    ¡°Now¡¯s not the time, Sleipnir. Now think of something that doesn¡¯t involve using a wand or waving your hands to cast your powers.¡±


    ¡°¡­Unfortunately Ray-Ray, I¡¯m not a Belgium Shaman or Japanese Onmyouji. I¡¯m a Western Witch taught in the British Style ¨C we always wave a stick or a hand to cast our magic.¡±


    ¡°Remind me to file a complaint to whatever magic school you go to.¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t. They¡¯ll remove my award for being the best student in Potion Making for three consecutive years from the trophy case! I-it¡¯s the only scrap of pride left I had from that cold and lonely castle!¡±


    The Imperial Germans have acquired both the Pilot and the Witch and have taken them to a bunker in the nearest prison camp on the war front. To the Witch''s surprise, the camp were managed by members of the Imperial German Luftstrietkrafte, the air force division, and most of the guards were armed with rifles and pistols. If that didn¡¯t scare the sh*t out of the girl, it was the horde of German Shepards they use as guard dogs that did.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to die here, Ray-Ray. If they throw my body to the dogs, they¡¯ll surely violate me. I-I literally saw the lust in their eyes when we were shoved past them.¡±


    ¡°10 inches.¡±


    ¡°OxO¡±


    ¡°The fire alarm is 2 meters far and 10 inches above my eye level. If I can kick my boot off and hit it, I could cause it to sound the bells and cause a distraction.¡±


    ¡°ENUNCIANT BEFORE YOU START CHIPPING INTO A RANDOM CONVERSATION!¡±


    The Canadian Witch was seething with maidenly rage for some reason. It was to the point where her panic and confusion was pushed to a breaking point and her long black silky hair was clinging from her lips in a menacing manner. Almost like those Japanese dolls that keeps growing its hair, but there''s no reason to dive into that subject right now. This was the First Great War, not a fairy tale. For the sake of fighting another day, if not avoiding to mother cute puppies, she could be found kicking and screaming in her chair - like a regular woman under the stressful circumstances.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    ¡°Out! I want out! OUUUUUT!¡±


    ¡°¡­Are you talking about us getting out, or the dogs.¡±


    ¡°SHUT UP!¡±


    The Canadian Pilot was a gentlemen, and someone who would rarely frown at the slightest of problems. For now, let¡¯s be historicinally inaccurate and say he did frown and he had every reason to. He was tied to his partner in a chair, locked in a 5 meter by five meter cell. It was under the ground, so it was already cold and damp. Maybe it was part of an interrogation technique, to let the chill rattle their will and make the moisture blister their skin. It saves time and energy to give them bodily harm (hiting someone can be very tiring).


    "...Ray-Ray. If they take me first, please know... I would always give you my first to--"


    "Sssh. I''m trying to calculate the wind resistance my boot will encounter. If I get the math wrong, we''ll be doomed for sure."


    "Pay attention to a girl in sad times like this... Sob."


    The enemy hoped to acquire some information, regarding the pilot¡¯s knowledge of several Allied air bases and tank divisions. Obviously, he only gave them his name, his rank, and his serial number. The Witch on the other hnd, he was worried for. Despite not being a combat personnel, the girl behind him was also trained to resist interrogation, both physical and magical. So he trust she would not break sooner than him and give them vital Allied information, even if they do feed her to the dogs (not as lunch).


    "Stop it with the dog jokes! My legs are trembling and I don''t want to mistaken it for another bad reason! Make it stop! Make it stop!"


    "... Sleipnir. I didn''t say anything."


    The fear in his gut, was the fact the Germans who captured them didn¡¯t know she was a witch. They all thought she was some random civilian who stumbled onto the crashed pilot, fell in love with his messed up body, and tried to save him. They found her dragging his body from the plane wreck, shouting ¡®don¡¯t die on me you b@stard¡¯.


    Maybe she was trying to get the Iron Cross for saving someone, the Germans thought, but doing so meant helping the enemy so they thought she was an enemy too. The friend of our villains type of analogy. So they captured her under the impression she was a deluded civilian. Raymond Collishaw had to keep it that way, until their magicians identify her. Then, it would be more than a nightmare for both of them.


    ¡°Sniff.. Sniff. I-I don¡¯t want my first born to be a German Shepard hybrid (TxT).¡±


    ¡°How about stop being depressed about something impossible and focus on the possible. We only have at most an hour before they call in their senior officers and interrogation specialist to break us for information. If they somehow get wind you know magic, this will make it even more difficult for us to escape.¡±


    ¡°I know, I know. They¡¯ll use all sorts of messy Mind Manipulation Spells to get me to sing my heart out. Heck, even if it¡¯s a fellow witch she¡¯ll try and get me to share my three sizes¡­ Good god, if she founds out mine are bigger than her¡¯s she¡¯ll definitely saw them off with a Iron Sand spell!¡±


    ¡°¡­Sleipnir, focus.¡±


    ¡°What the h*ll do you think I was trying to do!?¡±


    The Canadian Pilot and the Canadian Witch struggled in their binds, but they were too strong. It was made from a hemp rope and it was double bounded with various other materials of bindings.


    ¡°Nyaaah! D-don¡¯t lean forward so deeply! The rope is cutting into my body, a-and m-my breasts are about to pop!¡±


    ¡°Um¡­About that.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?...Ah.¡±


    Something popped out from the open cleavage of the Canadian Witch. It jumped out of her deepest valley, bounced across her lap, and cluttered on the floor next to her foot.


    ¡°¡­Raymond Collishaw. What is that?¡±


    ¡°¡­That¡­ would be my grandfather¡¯s Swiss Army Knife.¡±


    ¡°HOW THE H*LL DID IT POP OUT OF MY BREASTS!?¡±


    ¡°I kind of slipped it inside while you were dragging me out of Black Maria after she went down. If the Germans found it on my body, they¡¯ll surely confiscate them.¡±


    ¡°WOULDN''T THAT GIVE THEM MORE REASON TO STRIP SEARCH ME INSTEAD?¡±


    ¡°Enemy or not, they don¡¯t dare to do anything to a woman. I¡¯ve met Germans like the Red Baron, they can be gentlemens through and through.¡±


    ¡°¡­..¡±


    ¡°¡­.And I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°YOU BET YOUR @SS YOU BETTER BE SORRY FOR SLIPPING IN YOUR SWISS ARMY KNIFE IN MY VALLEYS!¡±


    So with some random flailing and kicking, the Canadian Witch was successful in passing the Swiss Army knife over to the Canadian Pilot. Whether or not Raymond Collishaw was ever captured during his participation in the Great War, that would be left for a heated debated between historian advocates. The only fact remained was that he would survive this dangerous ordeal to become a Flight Instructor and Air Commander in the Second World War.


    ¡°Just because you¡¯re free from the Krauts doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re free from my rage! Now get back here and apologize to mybody, Raymond Collishaaaaaaaw!¡±


    ¡°Sl-Sleipnir! Y-you¡¯re forbidden to try and strangle me with my own safety harness! P-put it down and surrender!¡±


    ¡°NEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN!¡±


    ¡°YOU¡¯RE NOT A GERMAN!¡±


    Don¡¯t worry. He WILL live through this war to participate in the Second World War. Count on it.

 Fourteenth Search of the Truth (Corsets)

    ¡°¡­R-Ray, Raaaaaaayyyyy (TxT)¡±


    ¡°Sleipnir. Whatever you do. Don¡¯t ¨C ever ¨C move. Please¡±


    It wasn¡¯t a battle in the sky where a certain Canadian Witch and a Canadian Pilot were taking part right now. Instead, they were given a high priority reconnaissance mission to locate a hidden German Airbase in the mountain ranges of Belgium. They were able to track the footprints to a Caslte in Belgium, and were able to infiltrate the hidden base stored under the grounds of the castle


    But they stumbled onto a proplem. It was a trap mine in the shape of a china plate that was particularly left sitting on the floor, in an open hallway. No, as much as it was Greek Custom to smash plates in celebration of an important event or wedding ¨C this was no Greek Wedding. And neither was it something involving the Jewish culture crushing a glass cup.


    It was really a regular looking china plate left on the rich velvet rug inside of the Belgium Castle. But its function wasn¡¯t to hold a cup for a tea party. Not when magic exists in this global warfare.


    ¡°R-Ray-Ray. Wh-what do I do? You need to dismantle the bomb, but only I can do it with my Anti-magic spell! I-I can¡¯t move to even look!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m completely aware of the situation but it can¡¯t be helped. It¡¯s only just us and I¡¯m no Magician. And no matter how much I look at this so called magic mine, it¡¯s still a plate. There¡¯s no way I could disconnect non-existent blue or red wires with a wirecutter!¡±


    ¡°S-still, you have to figure out a way to rescue meeeeee! M-my legs are too precious! I don¡¯t want to spend the rest of my life being called the Hobbler!¡±


    ¡°¡­I-if worse comes to worse, I know an Italian Prosthetic maker who owes me some favours..¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­..¡±


    ¡°¡­Sorry. It was a bad joke. Please don¡¯t cry.¡±


    The Canadian Pilot and Canadian Witch were trying to sneak into the castle¡¯s security system, to confirm the existence of German and Austrian-Hungarian activity. Since there were reports of the enemy holding allied magicians and soldiers as prisoners, they were specifically dispatched to confirm the information.


    Once they realize the intel was true, that allied magicians and soldiers were being used as tokens in a potential ransom exchange, they were planning of escaping with the pictures and send them to the nearest headquarters to notify Allied Command. That way, they would begin rescue operations with a proper special force post-haste.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    However, upon walking out of the hallways, that same Canadian Witch stepped onto the top of a tea saucer that she didn¡¯t notice lying on the ground. When she realized it was laced with magic, she did not dare move as if her life depended on it.


    ¡°Do something, Ray-Ray! Do something! Anything!¡±


    ¡°Y-you said this was fixed with a pressure sensitive spell, and some sort of light spell. Right? I don¡¯t understand it from your perspective, but essentially if you try to move your foot off and away, either the pressure pad or the activating of light will trigger the explosives.¡±


    ¡°Uuuuuh.¡±


    ¡°Nodding at a crticial time isn¡¯t helping me one bit, Sleipnir.¡±


    Raymond Collishaw was not a Demolitions Experts. He was a pilot, he knew squat about disarming a mine, bomb, or booby trap leading to high end explosive. Please don¡¯t misunderstand, he knew what a blasting cap was to a stick of dynamite. He just didn¡¯t know how to break it down into harmless pieces like a modern day EOD tech. Also, he didn¡¯t have those special bomb jackets that would be suitable at a time like this¡­That, or have any clue how to ¡®disarm¡¯ a procelain plate meant to hold a tea cup.


    ¡°¡­Pressure sensitive, light senstivie¡­I think I have an idea. But.¡±


    ¡°Uweh?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ need your corset.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­.. Weh?¡±


    There was a perfectly good vase nearby on display in the hall. It looked like one of the many stolen treasures that Imperial Germany had ransacked in their initial invasion. It looked expensive, and rather large, but maybe it was too heavy to simulate the weight of a half-stepped foot. Also it lacked coverage to achieve the ¡®light sensitive¡¯ requirement.


    Then there was the tapestry that carried the blazing emblem of the Belgium Family that once lived in the castle prior the Germans taking it over. But even if it can cast a wide range of shadow, it lacked the right weight. In this scenario, what could truly achieve the requirement of both ¡®weight of a half-step¡¯ and ¡®light senstivie coverage¡¯ as one thing. Oddly, it was the witch¡¯s corset. It had the weight and it was wide enough. It matched all requirements.


    ¡°¡­¡­I promise I¡¯ll look away.¡±


    ¡°I-I¡­I can¡¯t doo it. I-I¡¯m too scared to move thouuuuuugh.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­.Cr*p.¡±


    A perfectly solution, but was not well thought through. Unfortunately, as this was a life and death situation, and the intelligence they acquired must be reported back to base¡­ what was done was done. 30 minutes later, a certain Canadian Pilot would be walking out rubbing his hands to erase a sensitive feeling. Following closely behind him in the rain was a certain Canadian Witch. She was hugging her small body for some reason, as if gravity was playing a mean trick on her womanly heart.


    ¡°¡­¡­..¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­.¡±


    ¡°¡­..R-Ray-Ray¡­D-do you want your coat back. I-it¡¯s raining.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­ You keep it. It makes my heart feel at ease for... I''m sorry..¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­...... I...I''m glad it''s just you...Thank you.¡±


    What happened in that German controlled Belgium Castle, stays in that German controlled Belgium castle. But, anyone could clearly see the small smile on a certain witch''s face, as she holds the boys hand under the heavy rain.

 Fifteenth Chute of a Bird (Blue Stripes)

    ¡°Ray-Ray. I don¡¯t like it when it rains.¡±


    ¡°We still have to take off to head to the airbase in the West. Or else we¡¯ll never make it to the campaign at Vimy¡¯s Ridge.¡±


    ¡°¡­Can I get a rainjacket?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯ll cause too much air drag in this weather. It¡¯ll choke you to death.¡±


    ¡°Uuuuuh.¡±


    It was raining. If the mud on the ground wasn¡¯t bad enough from years of being hammered by artillery and thousands of marching feet, the downpour in the French meadows was another issue. It put tank assaults on hold, men in trenches had to find higher ground without being taken out by snipers, and many airplanes were wary in flying through the storm in case of being thrown out of the sky by harsh winds or struck by lightning (that¡¯s the worse). Handling with the awkward torque of their newly installed engines was one thing, but stormy winds... no. Just no.


    But a war was still waging on. Rain or shine, men on the frontlines and women supporting from behind had to push forward in order to win the battles they are part of. There was no such thing as a cancellation due to downpour. This wasn¡¯t a sports tournament.


    ¡°Achoo!... I-I¡¯m all wet¡­ from the rain of course.¡±


    ¡°¡­Right.¡±


    On the airfield of a base near Cambrai, there was a certain Canadian Pilot. He was known to be an Ace among Aces, but he wasn¡¯t in the mood to be compared to the British Billy Bishop or the notorious German Red Baron. It was a bad rain and before the winds get worse, he and his selected crew must carry some explosive payload to a strategic front miles up ahead.


    He commandeered a specially designed triple wing Sopwith Camel. It was a type of aerial fighter that had good enough engines and multiple-wings to accelerate in lift, pulling off tight sommersault to avoid enemy fire or anti-air guns. It also had the ability to fly at high altitude, perfect for bombing runs. It was also the only sturdy airplane that could withstand the rage of a storm. It was carved with the name ¡®Black Maria¡¯ in bright golden letters, even in the dark.


    ¡°Double check the ammunition and the fuel. We¡¯ll have to get the horses to tow the planes onto the runway before we can start the engines. And please, don¡¯t touch anything that says ¡®firing main guns¡¯. These horses were borrowed from a nice farming family. I would like to give them back.¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°Ray-Ray. I can¡¯t see a thing in this dark weather! Even my illumination spell or Hovering Spark enchantment is failing me miserably! See, the floating light ball is being swept away by the wind. No doubt to be raped by a bunch of lightning, poor thing... Anyway - This is plain suicide!!¡±


    ¡°No, Sleipnir! We don¡¯t have time for a tea and snack.¡±


    ¡°I SAID THIS IS SUICIDE, NOT EARL GREY AND SHORTCAKE!!¡±


    "What!? You have to go to the bathroom...now!?"


    "EVEN IF THERE IS THUNDER, LISTEN TO ME PROPERLYYYYYYYYY!"


    The weather was getting worse. If it wasn¡¯t the down pour that could turn a regular forest into a rainforest, it was the churning winds that were strong enough to bend radio antennaes. But missions were mission, and that was what Raymond Collishaw planned on carrying it out with his No. 10 Naval Squdron (callsign: Black Flight).


    Helping him to prepare his flight was his partner. She wasn¡¯t a soldier neither an officer. In fact she isn¡¯t supposed to exist in the regular army documents. She was a member of the Canadian Witch Corp. As magic exists in this normal world, so does the counter intelligence or anti-magic combat involved in this First Freat War. Obviously, witches like her were not trained to confront physical labour. No sir. She was the type of person who couldn''t keep a 10 pound dumbbell from dropping on her chest (causing unnecessary bruising). Also, she wore a delicate dress made out of 1000 raven feathers, not at all suitable in a violent storm.


    ¡°NYAAH! M-MY SKIRT IS IN MY FACE! RAY-RAY! DON¡¯T LOOK! DON¡¯T LOOK!¡±


    ¡°What? What do you mean we have to dump the spare fuel? We need that in order to cover an entire province! What are you trying to¡­Heh?¡±


    By chance the Canadian Pilot saw everything that was the Canadian Witch.


    "...Blue stripes?"


    ¡°I SAID DON¡¯T LOOK!¡±


    ¡°I CAN¡¯T HEAR A SINGLE THING YOU¡¯RE SAYING!¡±


    Dawdling around wil get the Pilot and Witch no where. They still needed to head out within the hour, pack up the right amount of provisions, and any weapons light enough to be stowed onboard their plane. The mission was going to be difficult, even if the enemy was none the wiser of their upcoming assault. So haste was of the essence.


    ¡°WAIT! RAY-RAY! RAY-RAY! (>///<¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t sit this out Sleipnir. We¡¯re needed on the front lines and to provide air support, we¡ª¡±


    ¡°SAVE ME! SAVE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!¡±


    ¡°¡­Ah."


    That is, after a certain Canadian Pilot finished dragging a certain Canadian Witch who was being plucked out of the plane by the hands of the storm. It looked like a giant wanted to play with her doll like body. Maybe it was because of her dress made of 1000 raven feathers, acted a bit like an open parachute.


    "SLEIPNIR! GRAB MY HAND! NO, THAT''S MY FACE!"


    "NYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (@_@)¡±


    They obviously were not in Kansas City anymore... wait.

 Sixteenth Cloud of Mayhem (Extinguishers)

    ¡°Sleipnir, we have to hurry with the loading!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m coming! I¡¯m coming¡­.Oh god that sounded wrong.¡±


    There was a hidden airfield near the border of Germany, somewhere in the French hills. It used to be a farm that was converted into an Allied Base, mostly to survey movements between the fighting fronts of against Germany and the Ottoman Empire. As the war was raging at an all time high, it had pushed their boundary to the closest inch possible to the enemy territory and were right up to the French-German borders.


    The farm was then re-purposed, again, to an active airfield for Allied planes to station, repair, and refuel. Among the many figher planes stationed there, were members of the No, 10 Naval Squadron, of the British Royal Naval Air Service (now call Royal Air Force). They were designated as the Black Flight, as all of the customized planes carried the same gunmetal black color that looked like a sable green than black of the night.


    The one who led them was a certain Canadian Pilot, an Ace among the Aces, and was recognized to be ranked closely to the RAF Billy Bishop and the German Red Baron. A man who was born and raised in a small town on an island off the mainland of British Columbia. His name was Raymond Collishaw.


    ¡°Sleipnir, we need to move the crates of ordinances to the airfield. It should cut down on our time in running back and forth from the strip to the hangar. Our trucks broke down in the last raid, and all the mules are used to haul some of the tanks that fell into a ditch over yonder. We need to pick up the pace.¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­Which boxes it? The one with the 1000 pound bombs or the 1000 pound bullets? Th-they look exactly the same!¡±


    ¡°Both.¡±


    ¡°Th-that¡¯s o-over 100 000 pounds! I-I can¡¯t even hold an iron cooking pan without two hands, this is beyond my maximum capacity I as a witch!... I¡¯ll be in the barracks, cleaning up the rooms. I-I''ll call you when d-dinner is ready.¡±


    ¡°No can do, Sleipnir. The air field commander has gave the all hands on deck order. Even the nuns from the chaplain unit are loading the chain belts onto the planer¡¯s machine guns and the chef crew are already attaching the payload to allied bombers.¡±


    ¡°¡­D-don¡¯t compare me to them. I-it¡¯ll make me feel guilty¡­ Sniff.¡±


    ¡°...Sorry Sleipnir. I don¡¯t have time to wipe your tears.¡±


    ¡°Tch.¡±


    Raymond Collichaw was a captain of his fighter squadron, the leader of the Black Flight. He had many talented fighter pilots and technician crews that have stuck together in various campaigns, so they were already working hand in hand in preparing for an upcoming skirmish.


    However, there was one member among his flight that didn¡¯t really belong there. She wasn¡¯t a soldier, definitely not enlisted. But she was crucial in the upcoming battles where her ¡®expertise¡¯ was most valuable on the battlefield. Believe or not, she was a member of the Canadian Witch Corp.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.¡°H-hold up, Ray-Ray. I-I really love to help b-but I¡¯m physically useless! L-look at my thin arms, look at my long legs! Look at my frail hands! I¡¯m pitiful when it comes to manual labour. B-but, but, I can definitely help in preparing charms to cast force field spells, or enchant the planes to increase in air speed and reduce w-wind drag, e-even add in an emergency hex which will slow the plawn down if it ever ends up crashing.¡±


    ¡°Sleipnir, I know you can¡¯t handle this and I''m sorry for dragging you around, but we have no choice. The Germans caught wind of a hidden air field right across their border. It¡¯s only a matter of time before they find us, so we have to prepare both a counterattack and relocate our base to another location.The last thing we need are enemy bombers turning this place into cheap fondue.¡±


    ¡°Now that you mention it, we''ve been working since morning...So hungry.¡±


    ¡°Please pay attention.¡±


    The Canadian Pilot sighed. He genuinely felt bad for making the Canadia Witch help him haul crates of armor piercing bullets and artillery shells around, she was truly not fit to be a combat solider. She was a magician, a member of the Canadian Witch Corp, who were in charge of counter magic combat against the enemy who harbour magicians in their ranks. Magic exists. Even if he didn¡¯t believe it, he had many run-in with German Spellcasters in both his flight skirmishes and on ground intelligence work.


    The two main fronts of both the normal battlefield and the magical realm were extreme. It was already too much for even the Witches who volunteers to learn how to refuel their allied planes or even repair several tanks in the hangar. Seeing some of those young witches getting a crash course in managaing the anti-air machine gun mounts or safety handling for a mortar also made his stomach turn.


    ¡°¡­Sleipnir, if you want you can stay here with the other Witches. We¡¯ll be fighting the Germans head on once they locate this secret base, and might send in more than several squadrons of fighers and bombers. Regardless if they have a magician, I don¡¯t want you get caught in the crossfire.¡±


    ¡°¡­R¡­Ray-Ray.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m serious. I''ll take to the skies. You sit this one out. Help the Chaplains or the Witches with the anti-air guns, or artillery. Maybe even take part in the evacuation. You don¡¯t need to¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re leaking.¡±


    ¡°¡­What?¡±


    ¡°Guh! I-I meant your plane! Your plane is leaking of fuel!¡±


    ¡°...Son of a b*tch.¡±


    "H-heh? Y-your beloved Black Maria i-isn''t my child!"


    Indeed, due to the rushed repair and under-experienced adjustments, one of the trainee technicians accidentally shoved his screw the wrong way and it pierced the rusted fueld tank of his beloved triple wing Soptwith Camel, carved with the name Black Maria. Another repair crew were trying to weld onto new metal plating to fix another plane¡¯s wings. The embers and sparks were getting close.


    ¡°Nope! ICE WALL!¡±


    ¡°S-Sleipnir!?¡±


    Fortunately, the Canadian Witch found an opening and did what she was trained to do. Create a wall of ice to block off the oil from being touched by the random sparks and ember.


    ¡°Ha-ha! Aren¡¯t I a smart girl, Ray-Ray? You are free to praise me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re on fire.¡±


    ¡°I know I am¡­ If you want, tonight, I could be even hotter in be¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hair.¡±


    ¡°¡­Heh?...Ah.¡±


    IF only she had made the ice wall high enough to block that one stray ember from leaping over the defenses and landing on the Witche''s long black silky hair. Since it was a dry day, it light up like a candle.


    ¡°NYAAAAAAAAAAAAH! MY HAIR IS ON FIRE, MY HAIR IS ON FIRE! MY HAIR IS ON FIIIIIIIIIIIIRE¡±


    In the end, Raymond Collishaw and several other witches came to the rescue with some fire extinguishers (the girls just finshed their crash course to smother emergency fire). The Canadian Witch on the other hand¡­ let¡¯s say those fellow memebrs of the Canadian Witch Corp became excited in applying the new modern skills they have just learned. They kept smothering the source of the fire, overzealously.


    ¡°¡­I-I¡¯m all wet. Sniff¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just powder. It¡¯ll wash off.¡±


    ¡°Uuuuuuuuh¡­It¡¯s so sticky... Take responsibility for all the white cr*p on my body, Raymond Collishaw!¡±


    "Th-the h*ll! D-don''t put it like that, and in such a loud voice! P-people are going to misunderstand the context of your--"


    "I - DON''T - CAAAAAAAAAAAAAARE!"


    In the end, the disaster was averted, and the Witch had her shower.

 Seventeenth Lance of the Valkyyr (Mad Woman)

    ¡°RAY-RAY! DON''T PUSH YOURSELF SO HARD!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine. I can still see with one eye.¡±


    There was a heated air battle at the borders of Belgium. The Allied Forces have made a bold attempt to push their forces up the North in order to start breaching the Imperial German lines, in order to acquire a stronghold for their major offensive into the primary territories of the enemy homeland. The main focus was the battle in the skies, where the Allies and Central Powers deployed their best pilots. Pitting legends against legends, where life and death were determined by tilt of a wing and the squeeze of the gun trigger. One simple mistake could be the end of their long fought career.


    Among the legends was a certain Canadian Pilot, who was well known to be an Ace among the Aces. His talent renown to the point where he was part of the main squadrons spearheading the aerial offensive. The captain of the No 10 Naval Squadron of the Royal Naval Air Service (now called RAF), designated Black Flight, Raymond Collishaw.


    His beloved all black triple wing Sopwith Camel was on fire. It left behind three trails of black smoke. A wing axle was snapped, and one of its two guns ran out of ammunition so it only gave an awkward clicking sound. The pilot was no better than the ruined plane. Blood dripping from under his flight cap, fracture goggles, one right eye cut from loose shrapnel, and his one whole arm ripped up from stray bullet fire. And there was only so much muscle mass left in his other surviving hand to control a 1450 lbs plane (650 kg).


    Yet the gunner in the back was unscathed. Although the girl with long black silky hair was covered in black gundpowder and residue from flying rockets, she was not at all damaged. It''s as if the pilot used every maneuvering skills in his knowledge to prevent any mishaps from touching the girl behind him. Even though she was a Canadian Witch who specialized in magic combat.


    ¡°Ray-Ray! Stay with me! We need to land and treat your wounds.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t do that. We¡¯re deep over enemy territory, and the mountains don¡¯t have a spare landing field for us. There¡¯s still too many enemy fighters to safely set down without them shooting at us.¡±


    ¡°J-just hang in there, I¡¯ll cast a Healing Spell to stabilize you and¡ª¡±


    ¡°I-I¡¯m fine. Just focus on the enemy magicians. They''re shooting flame and lightning at our air forces, deal with them first! Cough!... I-is that an elephant on the ground o-or am I hallucinating?"


    "Ray-Ray! Forget about the Ice Mammoth that''s trampling the ground! You need to get to the nearest medical field base or you''ll just fall asleep in the cockpit - forever! I seriously don''t want that."


    "Don''t worry, Sleipnir. Even if I pass out, you''re more than capable of flying a plane like this on your own."


    "Are you listening to me, Raymond Collishaw!? That is not what I''m scared about!"


    The fight in the Belgium skies and the ground was chaotic. As Magic existed, the enemy would surely gather their most talented arcane soldiers to form various platoons and divisions, to fight against the Allies who lack any magical defenses. Something as simple as a Mammoth made of ice and frost crushing British Mark V tanks, or even releasing a volley of Flame Lightning Arrows into the Allied defensive would be obvious.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Fortunately, the Allies have already assembled their own Magic Divisions. Canadian Witch Corp, American Warlock Unit, British Magicians, Australia Hex Platoon , French Paladin, etc. So it would make sense to see Gorillas made from Mountain Rocks clashing with such Ice Mammoths, or Bats made from mud and water colliding with the Flame and Lightning Arrows to protect the soldiers.


    It would be common to see various Witches riding in the back of British Mark V tanks, or even in the gunner seat of their airplanes. Due to their secrecy, they must pose as male soldiers or pilots in the regular units. Not to mention, they were restricted to magic to magic combat, otherwise they cannot even defend themselves form shells and bullets. Hence why they were paired with a suitable candidate from the regular armies. Notably, a certain Canadian Pilot.


    ¡°RAY-RAY! RAY-RAY!¡±


    ¡°¡­Hm. Sorry, I fell asleep.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve lost too much blood. Pull out of the fight and head back to base.¡±


    ¡°I still got about 328 rounds in the other gun, and two more bombs. The fuselage may be leaking, but I still have enough fuel to bomb one of their Ice Elephant things and possibly take out their forward command center. It should--Cough--H-help slowing down the German Offensive... Then I''ll withdraw."


    ¡°Liar! You already used your two bombs to drop a bomber plane and you only have enough bullets to hit ten birds!¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­..¡±


    ¡°¡­RAY-RAY!¡±


    ¡°Hmm. How long was I out again?¡±


    ¡°YOU HAVE TO GO BACK NOW!¡±


    The Canadian Pilot sighed at his partner. As much as she was sitting in the gunner seat of the customized Sopwith Camel he adored, she never touched a gun in her life. Heavens no. She wasn''t even trained to be a professional plane spotter, a human style radar. Nyet, nein, no. She was just deadweight. Still, that doesn''t mean her true value should go unnoticed. She could still use her hands to slap the bleeding Pilot awake from sleeping forever.


    "OW! R-RAY-RAY! WH-WHY DIDN''T YOU TELL ME YOU HAD A PIECE OF GLASS IN YOUR FACE!?"


    "Sorry Sleipnir... I can''t even say glakk without slurring it into a swear word... Sorry about your hand."


    ¡°Ray-Ray. Please listen to me. I don¡¯t care about who wins this war! That¡¯s not what I¡¯m scared about right now! If we lose you, the entire British Army will be jeopardy. No screw that, if I lose you I don¡¯t know what I would do!!¡±


    ¡°Relaz, Sleipnir. If I crash here for good, you will definitely find a good partner. You have to trust yourself.¡±


    ¡°THIS ISNT¡¯ EVEN ABOUT ME! I DON¡¯T WANT YOU TO DIE! ARE YOU LISTENING!?¡±


    ¡°With one ear, yeah.¡±


    ¡°RAY-RAY!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s alright... Just deal with that bomber behind us... My vision... I can''t tell between a cloud or a mountain."


    "RIGHT! RIGHT!"


    The all black Sopwith Camel that was on a beautiful crash course into the top of a Belgium mountain was averted. It dipped too deep to one direction and spun out of control. It lost a piece of its wing structure, but with enough screaming and pulling, it was able to stabilize itself before suffering a fatal accident. However, there was only enough fuel for so long. The rest kept dripping out from one hole like the drool of a dog in summer.


    "Ray-Ray. We''re going back."


    "I still have my duty. I can''t abandon my men."


    "....................................... You b@stard."


    "Wh-what?"


    The Canadian Pilot felt like this was it. The time where he had fulfilled his responsibility in the army and to his country of Canada. In his waning moments, he prayed that his nation will soar to new ranks and acquire a name for itself that would change the world forever. He so wanted to see if it could even reach its 150th birthday... however.


    That cold voice he heard behind him, forced him to wake up. It forced him to turn. And it forced him to stare into the eyes of h*ll itself. The saying ''hell have no fury than a woman scorned'' was too true.


    "... Darling. If you don''t drag your sorry @ss back to base -- I''LL F**KING DO IT FOR YOU!"


    "Oh sh*t."


    Indeed. This was the same reaction for the rest of the battle in the sky, when one all black Sopwith Camel screamed through the air. Any German magicians riding on Gotha G.V Bombers or Fokker M.7 Fighter planes were either swallowed up by a Boa Constrictor of Grass with a jaw power of 7000 psi, or stripped alive by a flock of Mud Seagulls. No one stood in the way, of this crazy Witch girl who flew a plane into her own Allied Base.


    "...Check in... Now."


    "Y-yes, M-Milady."


    And the Canadian Pilot lived to fight up to even beyond the Second World War.

 Eighteenth Page of the Aviators (Disciple)

    ¡°R-Ray-Ray! N-no more. M-my body is going to break at this point!¡±


    ¡°After you finish the Chapter of Science in Aviation, then we¡¯ll take a ten minute break.¡±


    The progress of the First Great War was dire. The Allied Forces had been stretched thin, from defending the Coast of Britain, France, the borders of Belgium, Italy, to pushing back enemy forces in the Bulgarian and Ottoman territories. All key personnel were constantly moved around in order to keep the war as balanced as possible, or at least to prevent losing critical territory.


    And as the war of aviation and airplanes had just begun, the many talented fighter pilots have been pulled out from priority placement in order to maintain the strongholds in scattered locations across Italy, Allied-Controlled Austria, and some parts of Germany. In other words, there were several air bases that lacked the required amount of fighter and bomber pilots to successfully defend their station in case of an air raid ¨C let alone conduct continuous bombing runs and fighter escorts.


    Hence why a handful of remaining flight officers, including a certain Canadian Pilot, had come to a final decision. They will begin a crash course flight school for another group of soldiers who were recognized as non-combat personels. Particularly, the members of the Canadian Witch Corp.


    ¡°I-I can¡¯t go on, Ray-Ray. A-all these numbers and science formulas are raping my brain from all directions. I-I don¡¯t have the right countermeasures to protect my mind¡¯s chastity! Uwaaa¡­¡­ I still don¡¯t understand what the h*ll is Pi(p)! Will this make my brain cells pregnant!?¡±


    ¡°As much as it pains me to see that tortured looked of yours, it can¡¯t be helped. Ther Germans are about to make a major push through the East and South across the Austrian-Hungary Border where our forces are still trying to gain control. The top brass already distributed our main forces in Europe to protect British Coast in case of another Zeppelin attack back in London. We need all the help we can get. And didn¡¯t you and the other Witches volunteered to help?¡±


    ¡°¡­ God-d*mn it, why are we Canadians so gung-ho to volunteer for everything dangerous!¡±


    ¡°We may be a simple colony, but don''t diss the pride we have as British-Canadians.¡±


    The one who was conducting a crash course lecture in flight and aerial combat was a certain Ace among Aces. He was ranked very close to a British Billy Bishop, and had several run in with the notorious Red Baron of the Imperial German Air Force. He had undergone many extensive flight missions, shot down an immense load of planes and bombs, and rose from the rank of an aspiring young man who hoped to join the Royal Canadian Navy to a full fledged Flight Lietuenant in the European Theatre of War. In other words, Sir Raymond Collishaw would be the flight instructor for the Canadian Witch Corp.


    ¡°Sit up, Sleipnir. The more you slouch in the chair, the more the other officers will be distracted by your cleavage. They may be hard working men who wants to serve their country, they''ll still lonely young men who miss their lovers or sweethearts. Don''t tempt them into an unnecessary affair.¡±


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.¡°So? Let them stare at my good bits. I''ll have you know, this is to support the foundation of my Charm Magic. I''ve based it on various Folklore of beautiful Sirens, Nymphs, and even the Fox Women from the Eastern Oriental Islands, to bolster most of my attack spells and persuasion abilities. It''s required I show about 90% of my skin on a seven day basis, just so I could properly cast an effective Disguise Spell when going behind enemy lines... And besides, I should be prideful of my body, no?"


    ¡°At the expense of being called a slut?¡±


    ¡°Hmm. I get that every now and then from the girls in my unit. So I''m used to it.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Breaks over.¡±


    ¡°Sob (TxT).¡±


    Raymond Collishaw wasn¡¯t this kind of man in historical setting, but right now he could be seen frowning. It wasn¡¯t because he was frustrated in teaching Witches who had zero experience or understanding of normal human technology. Many of them have never heard of a telephone, let alone dreamt of flying in the sky in a plane instead of an enchanted broom.


    As much as he wasn¡¯t a believer of magic, all of the ¡®pilots in training¡¯ were all girls wearing the iconic cones hats. He could not bring himself to simply ignore their existence. As a Canadian, that would be downright rude.His only problem was trying to drill these complex math equations and physics knowledge into these girls who have a background in an entirely different field of magical sciences. Even the fundamentals of Orientation, Gravity, Air Lift were completely differen in their minds.


    ¡°Honestly Sleipnir. We''ve already cut down the core materials so you can all focus on understanding how to just control the plane. You don¡¯t even need to take a written exam. Do you know how many students would burn their books in joy upon hearing that news?¡±


    ¡°What kind of ritual is that?I know a Seshat who is the Egyptian Goddess of knowledge, wisdom, and record keeping, but burning books to summon her would just p*ss her off."


    "... Again. No final exams. Period. So please stop worrying about the workload, it''s been significantly cut down to the bare minimum."


    "B-but we still have to know enough of everything to manually drive the flying metal right? I-I still can¡¯t tell which guage is the fuel tank apart from the ball thing that has a blue and brown color on it all the time.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s simply a device to tell you whether or not you are matching the horizon. Pilots can¡¯t tell where they are when in the heat of battle with Vickers Machine guns shooting at you from all directions. Sometimes, a physical object to tell you if you¡¯re parallel to the ground is often helpful.¡±


    ¡°I-it just makes me even sicker than those techniques where you make the world go a full 180 degrees!¡±


    ¡°¡­ You mean barrel rolls?¡±


    ¡°Oh god. I¡¯m going to hurl.¡±


    ¡°Outside of the tent!¡±


    The situation was dire. Even if the flight officers on station had cut down enough material to make even a child know how to fly a plane, it proved to be difficult when it came to bringing the information to those who were born, raised, and thrived in the magical arts.


    The complexity of explaning a simple engine, being more of a physical manifestation of a third tier magic circle; or the idea of being able to spit out bullets at a squeeze of a finger without incantation, has caused many gaps in the teaching process. Still, both the teaching officers and student witches endeavoured to master the primary foundation of how to fly British Sopwith Camels and theAmerican Glenn Martin Bombers that were on loan.


    The result everyone was hoping for, was to take to the sky and continue to fight the battle to prevent the Imperial German Forces from invading their territory. As much as the members from the Canadian Witch Corps excelled in magical combat, they too were restricted in showing their abilities to the fullest if the enemy did not harbour a magician among their ranks. Hence, why they were so eager to volunteer to become honorary pilots.


    ¡°J-joysticks. P-Propeller. E-engine. B-brakes. Flaps. Strats. Carborator¡ªRay-Ray! P-please spare my mind before it gets violated even more than a sullied maiden!¡±


    ¡°Sleipnir. Focus.¡±


    "Uuuuh (TxT)."


    Although, not everyone in the Canadian Witch Corp were sterling students. Sigh.

 Nineteenth Wink of the Stars (NoSheep)

    ¡°Ray-Ray¡­ My body is ready?.¡±


    ¡°Sleipnir. Get out of my bed. You already have one of your own.¡±


    ¡°W-wait! Wait! Don¡¯t d-drag me by the leg! A-after that life and death missions, d-don¡¯t you just want to cuddle up with a warm body?¡±


    ¡°No. My mother always taught me to never sleep with strangers.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯M HURT!¡±


    It was night time. As much as there was the distant roaring of the cannons in the French fields, the Airbase where a certain Canadian Pilot and Canadian Witch was far away in a safe zone. It had been a long day, where the No 10 Naval Squadron (callsign Black Flight) and some American Bomber group had to fly over the Bulgarian Border from the Italian mountains in order to destroy an oil refinery and a fabrication plant that forged metal for Imperial German tanks. The raid was successful, but because of the hour long flights and constant refueling at every so and so miles, it had been an exhausting week. It was best to compare to the life of a trucker who devotes 90% of his life on the road. Sigh.


    Thus, the entire No 10 Naval Squadron and those from the mixed fighter bomber flight groups were given a three day rest for a job well done. Everyone knew that they actually have one and a half day of R&R, as they will be eventually be called on to raid another enemy position soon. So the second they landed in an allied airbase, they hit their beds the second they stumbled out of a shower. Some didn¡¯t even bother to wipe down their bodies dry.


    ¡°You know, Ray-Ray. I¡¯m not that kind of callous girl who flaunts her body for just anyone. If it¡¯s you, I¡¯ll gladly share a bed?.¡±


    ¡°No. Get out. I still have debriefing reports to finish up and need to arrange the flight schedule for the next raid. We¡¯ll be transferring to the air base to take on the Germans fighting with the Ottoman Empire. Ever since Gallipoli, we''re not taking any chances for a mishap. Besides, you wouldn¡¯t believe the amount of paperwork needed to order ammunition, ordinances, and fuel just for single 10 minute sortie.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­.¡±


    ¡°Sleipnir, you¡¯re drooling.¡±


    ¡°Ah. I-I fell asleep.¡±


    The Flight Lieutenant of the No 10 Naval Squadron was a man named Raymond Collishaw. He was a humble man born and raised in a small town on an island off the coast of British Columbia. A Canadian who had joined the British Royal Naval Air Service (now called Royal Air Force). An Ace among Aces, close rank to British Billy Bishop and Imperial German legend Red Baron (you know the rest).


    As much as he was a legend in the field of aviations, he too had his limits as a human being. Still, falling asleep was put on hold as he had to finish the piles of report and requisitions to refitted his crew for another battle some time soon (possibly early in the next morning). If only his partner, a member of the Canadian Witch Corp, would stop falling asleep in his own bed.


    ¡°Sleipnir, if you want to sleep you should lie down in your own bed. We don¡¯t thrive in luxury, so every bed in this airbase is enough to hold one person. Two people combined would just break it.¡±


    ¡°Oh. So lewd.¡±


    ¡°Then the top brass will foot the bill to your paycheck.¡±


    ¡°Guh! A-as much as Canada has volunteered to fight in the war, I-I can¡¯t survive as a non-comissioned officer! I-I still need gold and gems to purchase materials necessary to support my magic! Not to mention, too put food on the table!¡±


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.¡°Can¡¯t the regular Canadian or American Dollar work for you? Why gold?¡±


    ¡°The economy in the magic world has been set since god knows when. The old fogeys in the High Council are either too stubborn to change the currency, or it will just be too much work, so they didn¡¯t bother with a proper currency conversion system between our money and your money. To them, they''ll believe this is for the good of all witch and wizard kind. Personally, they''re just lazy.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­.*Scribble* *Scribble*¡±


    ¡°¡­Ray-Ray! You¡¯re ignoring me!!¡±


    ¡°Hmm? Did you say something, Sleipnir?¡±


    It was the Canadian Witch¡¯s turn to go silent with a ¡®¡­.¡¯ Pause. Raymond Collishaw was anything but rude, and the reason why he couldn¡¯t answer her properly was the paperwork he was focused on. Just watching the man go through one official document after another, printing it all up on a beat up typewriter loaned from the air bases secretarial office, made the Witch cringe.


    ¡°I just don¡¯t understand it, Ray-Ray. How can you not fall head over heal in this ¡®Man¡¯s t-shirt only¡¯ attack I''m offering you! A-are you saying I¡¯m losing my sex appeal!? Th-this isn¡¯t good, then my Charm Magic and Diguise Spell will lose their efficiency if men aren¡¯t attracted to my form! My espionage career is ruined!¡±


    ¡°¡­So that¡¯s why my shirts are missing. Wash them properly from your perfume and give them back.¡±


    ¡°Was that the only thing you¡¯ve been listening to, Mr. Selective Hearing?¡±


    "I''m allergic to scented oils. I don''t want a rash to break out while I''m 10,000 feet in the air flying over enemy anti-air machine guns."


    "........... D-do you mean...i have to wash all of them?"


    "How many of my clothing did you frollick in!?"


    "... A lady will not say. Cough."


    Raymond Collishaw didn¡¯t like to argue, maybe not historically. So he tried to keep his silence in a just manner by typing on his type writer rather loudly. The Canadian Witch, who only wore a shirt too large for her finely curved body and draped with her long black silky hair, was not amused. Maybe it was for the sake of unneeded fan service, but a lamp was shining behind her, so her silouhette could be seen through the thin fabric (like a modern art). However, this fact didn''t help set the mood she hoped for. In fact, she could be see scowling.


    ¡°Sometimes I wonder, if you¡¯ll ever marry a girl at all.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Honestly, even though I am your partner who protects you from enemy magicians, there¡¯s really no written law where we can¡¯t, you know, hook up or something. H*ll, even some girls from my unit are telling me they have this crush on a Commander of a British Tank division, or even the Captain of the HMS Dreadnought! As much as I tell them, they¡¯re only playing their feelings to get between their legs, I still wouldn''t stop them from pursuing love on the battelfied! So long as they use the right protection or they''ll be yanked from the battlefields due to their baby bumps!¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Ray-Ray. You are always found on the front lines. The only time you aren¡¯t there is when you¡¯re forced to refuel, or I have to drag your sorry @ss out even when you crash land. You never stop fighting. That¡¯s no good. You haven¡¯t even enjoyed the earthly pleasures this world has to offer to you! You don¡¯t even drink, you teetotaler! There has to be something in your life that you should find important than trying to throw your life away... I-if you want to r-remedy that problem, I-I''m available tonight so...¡±


    ¡°¡­*Scribble* *Scribble*¡±


    ¡°¡­..RAYMOND COLLISHAW, ARE YOU LISTENING TO¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­.Zzz¡±


    ¡°Hmm? Sleipnir? Why did you stop talk--Ah.¡±


    Raymond Collishaw was a hard working man. One could historically debate this all day long, but he was seen as the kind of person who would focus on one thing and nothing else. His concentration in typing his many debriefing reports was on par to his concentration when flying in beloved all-black Triplane Sopwith Camel. So any noises he heard around him, were much like ambient noises. Or, he treated as listening to classical music as he worked.So the second he heard absolute silence, he forced himself to turn.


    The Canadian Witch was fast asleep, sitting up on his bed like a resting doll. Contrary to some belief, Witches use their own energy and mental powers to purify and focus their magic. And her duty was to protect the non-magic battle groups from enemy maicians. Since they had a run in with more than one German Spellcasters in the air and ground, her efforts were doubled. Like working back to back overtime shifts through one week, along with a graveyard shift or two. The type of person who could fall asleep while standing. Hence why she was out cold like a child on New Years Eve... or Day.


    ¡°¡­Honestly, Sleipnir. If you keep sitting in that inviting pose with only a T-Shirt. You¡¯ll catch a cold.¡±


    ¡°Umu, umu, umu¡­Zzzzzz.¡±


    What better way to end the long and tiring night, by tucking in that Canadian Witch in the Pilot¡¯s own bed¡­ If only she doesn¡¯t kick or punch in her sleep like a child on New Years Day.


    ¡°Hmm¡­ Ray-Ray. Make love to me¡­zzz.¡±


    ¡°No. Good night.¡±


    A mother father gentlemen indeed.

 Twentieth Dash of the Rabbit (Enemy Lines)

    ¡°Cough Cough Cough¡­ R-Ray-Ray! There¡¯s charcoal in my panties! I-it feels rough! (>///<¡±


    ¡°No time for that! Just duck your head down and run like a panther!¡±


    "I''m sorry. I ran out of spell slots to transform. (T_T)"


    "... Now''s not the time to--GRENADE!"


    "NYAAAAAAH! (@x@)!"


    Kingdom of Italy. In the First Great War, it was a member of the Allied Powers. As it was right at the borders of Austrian-Hungary and Bulgaria, the Italian nation was one of the Central Power''s first target to launch a full scale invasion from the land and the air. If Imperial Germany were to gain control of the country, they would have a direct acess for setting up their navy in the Mediterranean sea. As of now, they¡¯re gaining control in the English Channele between the mainlaind Europe and the British Isles. It was only a matter of time before they conduct pincer attack with their own Imperial German Dreadnoughts and notorious Untersee Boats,


    Right now, the situation was in a blazing battle in Italy. In the streets and canals of Venice. There was a certain Canadian Pilot and a Canadian Witch who burst out from the heart of a fireplace of a ruined house and took to the street. They could hear rifle bullets and aerial machine guns going on overhead.


    ¡°Wait, don¡¯t go down that way, Ray-Ray! That Kraut Magician can read your mind every 10 seconds, you need to outsmart her and go in the opposite direction after your first decision!¡±


    ¡°God-d*mn it, why is voodoo so complex!? What happened to the good old days were old men in pointed hats wave around staffs and go on long adventures with little people.¡±


    ¡°APOLOGIZE TO MY CULTURE¡ªGYAAAAH!¡±


    The reason why a certain Canadian Witch made that wierd sound was clear. Someone from the German forces tried to take a head shot at her with his Gewehr 88 rifle. He was not a magician, rather a regular soldier. In the heat of battle, he didn¡¯t care if his target was a man or witch. If it was someone who didn¡¯t wear the German Uniform (or other Central Power Allies) shoot on sight. Hence why the Canadian Witch ducked under a broken car. There was screaming, and it wasn¡¯t from the whistling of the bullets.


    ¡°Ray-Ray! Shoot him, shoot hiiiiim!¡±


    ¡°My revolver only has a maximum of eight rounds. I¡¯ve already used it to scare off the magic woman who was taking pot shots at us with arrows made from ice.¡±Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°WHY THE H*LL DID YOU TRY AND SCARE HER! YOU F**KING SHOOT HER!¡±


    ¡°Hey don¡¯t blame me, I¡¯m still confused about the witch to witch rules of engagement. I can¡¯t tell if I¡¯m allowed to shoot another voodoo person or something!¡±


    ¡°MAGICIAN! MAGICIAAAAAN!!¡±


    The situation was as followed. The Canadian Pilot and Canadian Witch were part of an air raid conducted by the No 10 Naval Squadron (callsign Black Flight). They were to suppress enemy air forces from aiding the German ground and tank forces from gaining too much land too quickly. That was the mission. However, in the heat of things, a stray German Fokker plane accidentally clipped its wings with the Canadian Pilot¡¯s triplane Sopwith Camel carved with the name Black Maria. They were forced to go out of control (more common than being shot down) and they had to bail out when they were close to the roof of an Italian apartment. By the off chance, they landed down a chimney, which is why they were covered in soot and remnants of broken charcoal.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have a spare weapon or something, Ray-Ray! I can fight other spellcasters, but I''m forbidden to drop people who don''t know what the h*ll magic is! I''ll be either kicked out from the Witch Corp or worse! I need a gun to protect myself from these Kraut b@stards!"


    ¡°Hold up. Didn¡¯t you boast you can store a cr*p tone of gear in that Pocket Space thing you mentioned. Didn¡¯t you think of storing a gun inside in the first place?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s packed with extra clothes and my make-up kit! How could I possibly know I would need a full survival kit or flare gun!? I wasn''t expecting to get shot down behind enemy lines, Mr. Ace Pilot!"


    ¡°¡­And you call yourself my supporter.¡±


    ¡°RAY-RAY! PLANE!¡±


    ¡°We don''t have one, remember? Black Maria... god rest her soul, got smashed in the ravine. We need to--"


    "NO! NO! BIG @SS PLANE INCOMING!"


    "...Sh*t."


    Raymond Collishaw may have swore, or maybe not if we¡¯re talking about historical accuracy. He was a gentlemen and a pilot of the sky, so he saw no reason why he should curse so casually. However, he was still human, even a righteous man like him will swear like a drunken sailor when a Fokker D.2 with four machines guns would try and slice his head off with its wings. As the Canadian Witch was very close to the Canadian Pilot, of course she would yank out the revolver from his hand to fight back in order to protect him.


    ¡°PATRIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!¡±


    ¡°WAIT, SLEIPNIR! DON''T---¡±


    *BANG* *BANG* *BANG* *BANG* *BANG* *BANG* *BANG*-- *Click* *Click*¡­*Click*¡­. *Click**Click**Click**Click**Click* *Click**Click**Click**Click**Click* *Click**Click**Click**Click**Click* *Click**Click**Click**Click**Click* *Click*


    ... In the end, the Fokker D.2 fell down, in order to get enough air lift to clear the buildings. In other words, it was still alive.


    ¡°RAY-RAY! WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS WAND? IT CAN''T EVEN DROP A PLANE PROPERLY!? AND DOES IT ONLY HAVE SEVEN CHARGES, THE H*LL!?¡±


    ¡°I TOLD YOU, IT¡¯S A F**KING REVOLVER THAT ONLY HAS A MAXIMUM OF 8 ROUNDS! THAT¡¯S ALL WE HAVE TO DEFEND OURSELVES.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Uuuh.¡±


    ¡°DON¡¯T YOU DARE CRY AFTER WHAT YOU¡¯VE DONE, YOUR RECKLESS WITCH!¡±


    In the end, the Canadian Pilot and Canadian Witch had to sneak around squads of German soldiers, crippled tanks with only a handful of grenades, blast their way though blockades with their enemies gun, kicked over an unexpecting Hungarian wizard, and ducked under their allied fences to safety.


    ¡°Sob¡­There¡¯s mud in my cleavage, Ray-Ray (TxT).¡±


    ¡°You can have all the showers you want when the enemy front is five miles behind us!¡±

 Twenty-First Leap of the Falcon (Drop)

    ¡°R-Ray-Ray! Please, hold me tight!¡±


    ¡°Letting go of you will be the end of me. I¡¯m not stupid.¡±


    Please don¡¯t misunderstand, this wasn¡¯t exactly a romantic bedroom scene (thank god). Rather, it was somewhere high in the mountain ranges in the Belgium forest, possibly close to the borders of the Netherlands and Imperial Germany. There was a thick column of black smoke coming from an American Glenn Martin two seat reconnaissance-bomber plane that was half buried, half mangled, and completely messed up in some of the trees as tall as skyscrapers. It flew the American colors. But the pilots were from the British Royal Naval Air Service (now called Royal Air Force), the Canadian Regiment.


    Namely a certain Canadian Pilot and a Canadian Witch. They could be found hanging off the ledge of a cliff, dangling off from an a long thick leg of root growing out from the side. It was the type where eagles would lay their nest in such high altidtude. Now it doubled as a last minute lifeline that could be held on for dear life. To best picture it, the Witch was grabbing the root. The pilot was grabbing the Witch.


    ¡°Oh god! R-Ray-Ray! Your hand is slipping to my dangerous parts! I-I know this is difficult, but please think about my purity!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to breach my own personal principles or make my mother upsetting for toucing a woman without permission - but I can¡¯t move without slipping! If I so much as try to climb up now, I''ll fall!¡±


    ¡°Y-you say that, yet your hands are getting closer and closer to my womanly pride¡­ Nyaaah! I-it¡¯s tightening over the bump! D-don''t squeeeeeeze!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I¡¯m really sorry!...(d*mn, they''re soft)¡±


    "What did you say, Ray-Ray?"


    "Cough. Cough. Don''t sneeze."


    "Impossible! Pffuuu! D*mn eagle feathers are all over my face! Pffuuu-pffuuu!!"


    The Canadian Pilot was, to summarize, a well known Ace in the Royal Naval Air Force. Close to Billy Bishop and rivaling the Imperial Red Baron, he was a gentlemen on the land as well as the air. So he wouldn¡¯t take advantage of others, regardless if the opponent was an enemy in the war. For example, he went through the proper process of borrowing the Glenn Martin Bomber plane from the United States Air Force for a specialized reconnaissance mission. Due to the sensitivity of an upcoming offensive, the British hoped to hide their true air strength until the last minute. So they planned to borrow an American plane as part of a counter-intelligence strategy. The rest of the important details could be drowned out with wonk wonk wonk. Rest assured.


    "...Ah....Ah...Aaaaah."


    "Sleipnir! NO!"


    "NYAAAH! R-Ray-Ray. D-don''t, g-grab me so h-haaaard. Th-they''re going to breaaaaaak. Gnnhh?"


    "Please don''t make those kind of noises, it''s conflicting with my state of panic!"


    This self-placed rule of being a proper gentlemen also included in this situation where he was hugging onto the Canadian Witch¡¯s stomach to keep himself from falling to his doom. Dying in Belgium as a Belgium waffle is the last thing he want in his obiturary.


    ¡°Is there any way you can climb up, Sleipinir? Don¡¯t you have magic to fly us out?¡±


    ¡°What do you think I am, an old geezer who can transform into a big@ss eagle by talking to a moth!? I need my hands to coordinate the right command and signals to control my magic, and they¡¯re both busy clawing into the roots that keep us in aloft against he Law of Gravity! A-also, there¡¯s nothing that looks remotely like a broom for me to enchant into a flying object! It¡¯s impossible.¡±


    ¡°And you call yourself a Witch.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°Darling. I can let go and take you as my otherworldly groom.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. What I said was uncalled for. Please don¡¯t let go.¡±


    "...O-okay. O-only because you asked nicely--Kyaaa! M-mybelly is being squeezed so rouuuuugh!!"


    The reconnassaince mission was successful. They were able to take some pictures of the enemy base that was preparing for an air raid for a local Allied Airbase holding Italian and French planes as a reinforcing station. There was also another Allied controled city in Belgium nearby that was a primary distribution hub for supplies, munitions, and the necessary Red Cross supplies for the sick and wounded.


    If it weren''t for a sudden appearance of a German Fokker Biplane making a random pass, the Canadian Pilot and Canadian Witch would have been landing back in base right now with the photo. Since an American craft was caught flying over by an Imperial German plane, of course there would be a heavy battle between two airplanes in the sky. Casaulties were expected. Although the Canadian Pilot was commandeering an American bi-motor Glenn Martin bomber, he was successful in dropping the enemy plane out of the sky. At the cost of forcing it into a spiral, slashing through on of the bomber''s wings. The results were obvious after that.Too bad their parachute got torn up by shrapnel however, so they had to bail out with a leap or faith. Else, they would have beenflattened out like Italian Pizza dough.


    *Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr~*


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­..¡±


    ¡°¡­. Sleipnir.¡±


    ¡°D-don¡¯t look at me with those judging eyes! Do you know how hard it is to keep this body frame ratio exactly to the numerical values necessary to use my magic! I-I skipped last night''s pot roast dinner and this morning''s egg and sausage breakfast. It can¡¯t be helped if my stomach is forming a rebellion inside of my body!¡±


    ¡°N-no. Yo-you¡¯re dress. It¡¯s tearing apart.¡±


    ¡°¡­Heh?¡±


    The Witch wasn¡¯t a combat soldier, not on record exactly. She was a member of the hidden Canadian Witch Corp and was in charge of anti-magic warfare against spellcasters in the Central Powers. To match her origin and her purpose in the war, she didn¡¯t wear standard issue uniform that were rugged enough to endure any harsh terrain. No, she wore this very fancy and showy dress made out of 1000 raven feathers. Maybe it was because of the fact it was woven together magically with raven feathers, the stress of being pulled at with a human weight was starting to force the ¡®seams¡¯ to break. So in exactly 10 minutes, the Canadian Witch will be stark naked by the time the Canadian Pilot slips off her.


    ¡°No! R-Ray-Ray! P-please don¡¯t pull down so hard! A-at this rate, th-the world is going to see more than my cleavage¡ªOH GOD THE BUTTON IS POPPING! M-MY PRIDE IS GOING TO FALL OUT!¡±


    There were no buttons on the Canadian Witch¡¯s dress, but the action of something snapping open over her (amazing) chest started to react. Bit by bit, holes appeared across her dress made of 1000 raven feathers, showing more and more skin much like how the tear in pantyhose begins to grow. It was to the point the girl was showing more skin than she would allow, even when walking into a battlefield.


    ¡°¡­Sleipnir. Don¡¯t cry. The more you shiver your body from emberassment, the more your dress will tear from the added microscopic stress. I-if this thing comes apart, I¡¯ll definitely fall.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care anymore. I¡¯m going to be naked when I hit the ground. No, I don¡¯t want it. I don¡¯t want some guy with a fetish for corpses to take advantage of me.¡±


    ¡°Th-that¡¯s too graphic¡ªUwoooh!¡±


    ¡°NYAAAAAH!¡±


    The root branch the Canadian Witch held onto for dear lift was wilting. Such bad timing. Maybe it was due to their added weight that was causing the root to bend. At this rate, they will both plummet to their dooms to become human Belgium Waffles... one of them possibly naked.


    ¡°¡­Sleipnir. When you get back to the base, make sure the photographs are handed over to Melville Alexander in the Black Flight. He is aware of our mission and knows what to do with the intelligence data we acquired.¡±


    ¡°R-Ray-Ray? Wh-what are you talking about? Wh-why does your tone sound like you¡¯re going to give up your life to let me live.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­.. And please don¡¯t pick on your new partner. Cut him some slack.¡±


    ¡°RAY-RAY! DON¡¯T LET GO! DON¡¯T LET GO! I FORBID YOU TO COMMIT SEPPUKU AT A TIME LIKE THIS! NO MAN BEHIND! I¡¯M NOT GOING HOME WITHOUT YOU!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s no use, Sleipnir. Magic, no magic, this branch isn¡¯t going to hold both of us long. And I¡¯m heavier because I¡¯m a guy. So it¡¯s only right, I give up my mass to save yours.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t the time to be sexist, Ray-Ray! We¡¯re going home together or¡­ be eaten by a bear together!¡±


    ¡°I-I think there¡¯s some wolves waiting for us down there.¡±


    ¡°Good god, they¡¯ll rape me! (O///O)¡±


    The Canadian Pilot made his decision. He was going to let go and free his partner from the burden of gravity. He only hoped that the SOS he gave out prior the crash was received by a local allied airbase. If someone from the American Air Force arrived, she will be saved to fight another day. If by the off chance another Fokker Scout came by, at least they¡¯ll keep her alive long enough to interrogate her. This war already had enough dead heroes. As much as he wished to live through it, there¡¯s no point to dragging down an innocent girl like the Canadian Witch. So, he chose to let go¡­ or at least he thought he was going to.


    ¡°Hmm. Nnng...¡±


    ¡°S-Sleipnir? Wh-what¡¯s the matter?¡±


    ¡°S-sorry, Ray-Ray, i-it¡¯s just that your face is in my¡­ b-bottom an-and your hands¡­Uugh¡­is where the baby is going to come out.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m out. Good bye.¡±


    ¡°NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! (O?O)!!¡±


    And so the Canadian Pilot let go. The Canadian Witch didn¡¯t have time to even catch him. Watching the Ace among Aces fall down from sky scraper height, she wept, like a heartbroken maiden she was......¡­Until he landed upon a loft branch from a tallbeech tree nearby.


    ¡°¡­RAYMOND COLLISHAW! YOU PLANNED THIS FROM THE BEGINNING, DIDN¡¯T YOU!?¡±


    ¡°N-not really. I was still waiting for the wind to change direction. It was a 50/50 chance.¡±


    ¡°YOU GOD-D@MN PERVERT!¡±


    Please note, the Canadian Pilot was a gentlemen through and through. He really was waiting for the cardinal winds to change course to allow him to decelerate enough at a 45 degree angle to land in the cluster of branches. End of story.

 Twenty-Second Chase of a Lovely Wolf (RavenGirl Again))

    ¡°Ray-Ray. Want some of my salad? I¡¯m full.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t go wasting what little food we have. We¡¯re on rations remember.¡±


    There was a problem going on in a city near the French Border, next to Germany. As much as the main territory of France was under the influence of the Allied Powers, there were still some places that were in danger of being over-taken by the Central Powers. With the all Allied forces spread thin across Bulgaria, Arabian Desert, and not to mention the African continent, the Germans and their organized cohorts were pushing head strong into various territory across the European Theatre.


    Namely, they were trying to lay siege onto a half-empty city that was sitting right near the France Germany border. It held no economical value, it was already ransacked of its treasures and original food supplies in the initial invasion at the start of 1914. It¡¯s in ruins, only half of the city survived the never ending rain of artillery shell from German Guns.


    But should the enemy acquire this location, they could easily set up an effective Anti-Air defense point. This would impede all Allied Air Forces from conducting their final operations in an massive upcoming air assault. Their planes and bombers would be in danger should the town be turned into a living city of machine guns designed to shoot down British Sopwith Camels, American Curtis 18s, Italian Caproni CA.20 bombers, and even the Allied French Nieuport 28s.


    "Sleipnir. Eat your cheese. You need all the protein you can get. Plus, it fills your stomach more than bread and water. The body needs every ounce of calories to run in a long-term battle like this, so eat up."


    "...Th...this may be a bad time to confess, Ray-Ray, but... even if I''m Canadian, I''m lactose intolerant."


    "Don''t mind if I do."


    "Heh!? A-at least console me before you up and take my cheese wedges!....... Sob."


    There was a platoon of soldiers and pilots who were stationed at the outer edges of the ruined city near the French-German Border. They were there to defend another major location to prevent Allies from easily marching on soil owned by the German Empire. However, this narrator say platoon but it really was no more than several small rifle squads and a maximum of 12 German pilots with five part-time mechanics. The war has stretched all sides thing, every able man and talented sniper were deployed across the Trenches in Sommes, Passchaendaele, Vimy Ridge, Cambrai, and so on. So to conserve on energy and resources, they just relied on German batteries to hit the ruined city from afar.


    Holding their positions inside of said ruined city, hiding from the howling Artillery Guns, was a certain Canadian Pilot and a certain Canadian Witch. They were hiding inside of a Royal French Hospital. The situation they had been facing, was far worse than the enemy surrounding them right outside of the city gates.


    ¡°I really don¡¯t want to complain and all, Ray-Ray. But eating greens won¡¯t do. We still need the necessary protein in order to fuel our bodies, and to improve the healing of muscular tissues. There are even some witches who rely on raw meat to fuel their magical energy or use as resource in a ritual to summon tactical zombies. If we don¡¯t have any meat, we¡¯ll only get malnourished!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve went through all the supplies, theres isn''t even so much as processed canned meat available. Our rations are all the dehydrated type so that alone isn''t going to help. Even I¡¯m getting tired or eating raw vegetables dug out from the backyard, but the enemy is right outside. They¡¯ve already got snipers out inside the woods. We¡¯ve lost two men just because they were smoking out in the night.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t smoke, so I should be safe.¡±


    ¡°Even in the dark, with how exposed your white skin is, they¡¯ll spot you out like a dove in a jungle.¡±


    ¡°S-so rude. M-my breasts are too big!?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯m trying to say!¡±


    The Canadian Witch who wore a dress made of 1000 raven feathers, hugged her proud chest defensively. The Canadian Pilot on the other hand, ignored her emberassing gesture and continued to pick out the carrots from his canned saut¨¦ed salmon with grilled onions and peas. He would feel bad if he tossed the pieces of carrots onto the ground, he didn''t want the rats to choke and die. That would be cruel.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Eat your fish, Ray-Ray. It has lots of omega-three and other vitamins to make your brain smarter.¡±


    ¡°This is military rations meant to live through 10 years while dibbed in questionable food preservants. Do you really think the army would go out of their way in putting fresh pacific salmon or rainbow trout into ration cans?¡±


    ¡°¡­. I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t know better.¡±


    ¡°I agree, but there¡¯s no need to cry.¡±


    The Canadian Witch could be found sobbing (fake tears) at one of the tables in the empty hospital cafeteria. They were not the only one who were in hiding from the Imperial German blockade. There were also a mixture of different units from various nations such as the British Royal Regiment, the Scottish Argyll and Sutherland Highlands, Australia Mounted Division, American 17th Field Artillery Division, even parts of the 1st Canadian Mechnanized Brigade Corp were presently taking cover in the medicine room and cleaning supply closets.


    Sitting with these soldiers, were also another group of specialized operatives. This would be members from the Canadian Witch Corp, the British Magic Division, and even the American Warlock Chamber. Magic existed, but it had to be kept a secret from the world. Even from the fighting soldiers of the military. Only designated officers of high rank of various department would be aware of their true identity, and are bound to support them in fighting non-magic combatants as the magic specialists deal with enemy magicians.


    In order to avoid suspicion as to their true identity, many of these Witches and Magicians would pose as army nurses, nuns, chaplains, to even a regular rifleman if needed. Their job was to focus on anti-magic countermeasure from enemy spellcasters and keeping track of their own magical intelligence network.


    The Canadian Witch who was playing around with her bowl of salad was one of those important people.


    ¡°At this rate, the Krauts will kill us off not by execution of a bullet to the head. But from meat cravings and malnutrition. We need to do something fast or else they charge in and find us nothing but skin and bones!¡±


    ¡°Monks in Tibet already have survived years of solitutde and lived off of nothing but the vegeation grown in the Himalyas and Goat milk. We should follow their example and focus on planning a counter offensive.¡±


    ¡°Even if you say that, every single soldier and witch in this hospital have all relied on meat to grow! To suddenly not have any source of the food group would be no different than forcing someone to stop smoking. They¡¯ll be affected from cold turkey and fail to operate at 100% capacity!¡±


    ¡°The h*ll does frozen turkey have to do with this?¡±


    ¡°Guh!? D-don¡¯t tell me this era doesn¡¯t recognized that word!?¡±


    For those of you who are curious, going cold turkey meant to abstain from the drug or tobacco without any other medical aid. In order words, you throw out the box of cigars and endure the cravings like a man - or roll on the ground kicking and screaming.


    ¡°This still isn¡¯t helping with how we should break the Imperial German siege. The only reason why they¡¯re not attacking us right off the bat is the fact they don¡¯t know our true numbers. They still think we out number them, they¡¯re too scared to sacrifice what little soldiers they have left in case of an ambush.¡±


    ¡°Right. If it weren¡¯t for several witches who specialize in Illusions and Hallucination curses, they wouldn¡¯t believe the fact we only have 150 people total, and not 2500 holograms. But again, they used up the last of their energy to cast that 10<sup>th</sup> Level Spell to trick the enemy. They still need meat source to refill their diet!¡±


    ¡°¡­Does canned salmon work?¡±


    ¡°If we¡¯re lucky, they won¡¯t vomit it out as if they have morning sicknes.¡±


    ¡°That bad huh?¡±


    ¡°I hate to say it, but being a witch requires following exact rules to function with magic. No exeptions are allowed, or else our blood vessels will burst.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. I never knew that magic could be this inconvenient.¡±


    "Apologize to my pride, Raymond Collishaw."


    The Canadian Pilot gave an off handed ''hmm'' again, completely ignoring the Canadian Witch''s clenching fist. Even if magic did exist to help with the war effort, the price to properly use it was a complete pain in the @ss. So many rules and regulations, not to mention the unspoken techniques for different schools of the mystic. Obviously, no one in the Canaian Witch Corp could up and use their powers to summon loaves of bread or fresh fishes ¨C that¡¯s a God-class Miracle Spell in itself. Not even the Archwizards supporting the Vatican could replicate such an important spell. So there was still that issue of an imbalanced nutrition, and the morale of the troops. The scales in this situation were lower than average.


    ¡°Sigh. This is so depressing Ray-Ray. It¡¯s to the point where I can¡¯t even hear the drumming of the Kraut artillery that¡¯s trying to smoke us out.¡±


    ¡°If I¡¯m not mistaken, I think they¡¯re on their dinner rotation now.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Dinner. Wonder what they¡¯re having.¡±


    ¡°I guess potatoe soup, potatoe pancakes, potatoe waffles, potato roast, and sauerkraut. Since they¡¯re outside of the city walls, no doubt they have access to wild game. Lucky them¡±


    ¡°......................................................................................................."


    "...Sleipnir. I don''t like how wide your smile is right now. S-stop it, i-it''s even creepier than a clown."


    "Heeeeeey. Ray-Raaaaay. It''s such a lovely night today... Why don''t we go on a stroll and have a date?"


    "Guwoooh! S-Sleipnir, halt! D-don''t grab my belt and drag me out of the door! Th-the other soldiers will misunderstand me! I-I''m Canadian, I-I don''t want to ruin the image of my country!"


    On that cold and lonely night, a miracle had appeared. It came in the form of a single all black triplane Sopwith Camel that flew over the small enemy siege of several squads, 12 pilots, and five engineers. The craft dropped something, not a bomb, but a devastating beast.


    The final reports of this event were unclear, some aspects of the debriefing were difficult to translate from German to English. To summarize, the Imperial Germans swore that a beautiful woman dropped into their camp - and transformed into a tyrant werewolf... and it wasn''t even the full moon. The collatoral damage that night consisted of their tents being smashed apart, their officer rations and frehsly caught game meat stolen, and several German Soldiers with more than black eyes.


    ... The commanding German Officer who reported this, was automatically transferred to the Russian Front.


    ¡°Come on Sleipnir, we got the meat, their ammunition, and you gave them a beating, We have to--WHY THE H*LL ARE YOU NAKED!?"


    "Geh! M-my Wild Shape Spell lost it''s effectivenes from the lack of proteins in my body! An-and my dress won''t recover until I eat... TH-THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT RAYMOND COLLISHAW!"


    "D-DON''T BLAME OTHERS WHO CAN''T UNDERSTAND MAGIC! J-JUST GRAB THE MEAT AND RUN BACK TO THE HOSPITAL!"


    "THAT''S TOO MUCH FOR A GIRL!"


    The Allied Forces celebrated this... sudden victory, with the game meat the Imperial Germans had caught. What ho.

 Twenty-Third Laugh of the Raven (Trauma Wing)

    Ray-Ray¡­ Don¡¯t leave me. I-I promise I¡¯ll change. So, please don¡¯t abandon me! At least think about our child, 10 years down the road when this sad war is over!¡±


    ¡°¡­ I¡¯m only going for a shower, Sleipinr. Its in an entirely different bunker. It will only be 10 minutes...¡±


    "Even so, you''re still leaving a lonely woman by herself in your barrack! Think about my feelings!"


    It was midnight. There was a reason why there we still some people who were wide awake at this ungodly hour. One would be the fact this was the middle of 1917, in the heat of the First Great War. Soldiers could not sleep at times like this, hearing the distance howls of the enemy cannons, the cold and chilly breath of the trenches, or felt homesick while thinking of their beloved family and lovers back home. Insomnia was common among the ranks, both above the brass and below. It could not be helped.


    This also included the fighter pilots who were all pivotal members in the progress of the war across the European theatre. Gong on dangerous missions, facing explosions in the sky and conducting deadly reconnaissance on foot when their planes go down. Everyone had to pull their weight to ensure the victory falls into the hand of the Allied Powers. Often, the things they go through just to achieve that success, came at costs too great it was impossible to forget it all in their sleep.


    A certain Canadian Pilot was one of those restless souls. He thought he would calm down with a shower, maybe a glass of warm milk if he could sneak into the officer''s mess hall without notice. But it seems the Canadian Witch who was hugging her entire curved body to his leg had worse trauma of the days actions. The way she tied herself on him, remind one of a koala in the cold winter.


    ¡°Ray-Ray. I-I promise I won''t call you names or make fun of you! I-I swear I won¡¯t throw around my rank as a Witch and put you down as a non-magician! I-I even stop sneaking out your boiled eggs from our morning rations! I¡¯ll be a good girl. Honest to Thor!¡±


    ¡°¡­Sleipnir. Again, I¡¯m just going to have a shower. I¡¯ll come back. You won¡¯t wake up in a coffin like last time.¡±


    ¡°Geh!? D-don¡¯t remind me! Don¡¯t remind me!¡±


    Maybe a quick background check. The Canadian Pilot and his partner the Canadian Witch were given a mission on the ground. They were to undergo a reconnassiance detail to aid with the combined French and Italian army in reconfiguring their new anti-air defenses stationed at the base of the Aosta hills, near the Italian-French border on the italian side, right in front of the entrance of Switzerland. The Imperial German Lufstreikrafte (not Luftwaffe) have developed planes with stronger armor and capable of soaring over high altitude. It was imperative to set up a new line of anti-air machine guns in certain key locations across key strongholds like Lyon, France and Milan, Italy.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    The Canadian Pilot and Canadian Witch were in charge of overseeing the operations, and help to conduct air drills for the French and Italian forces. However, the Imperial German somehow got wind of their appearance, and dispatched several units of their own to intercept them.


    For the recod, Magic exist but must remain in secrery even during the war time. If news got out that magicians were hiding within the different combat group as side-line engineers or members of a nun or chaplain group, it would cause chaos an confusion across the world (not to mention the cr*p ton of paper work). The Pilot¡¯s partner was a member of the Canadian Witch Corp, and she ensured him and his No 10 Naval Squadron (call sign Black Flight) would not be attacked or assassinated by enemy magicians.


    However, the ones who intercepted them in an ambush with flaming horses, lightning elephants, and some exploding wind eagles were elite Magicians from the Imperial German Zauberer Intelligence Division. To summarize, the Pilot and Witch were forced to split up, and the Witch ended up being captured. In her debriefing, she p*ssed off the enemy magician so they stuffed her inside a coffin and buried her 5 meters under ground - just to shut her up.


    Rough.


    ¡°It¡¯s no fair, Ray-Ray! Why did you look so happy when the French Illusionist dressed as a nun rescued you from the lighting bolt spell? Don¡¯t you ever feel proud whenever I intentionally trip and fall in your lap! And that look you gave to the Italian Druid from the resistance force, I can¡¯t believe you still have feelings for her ever since our last recon!¡±


    ¡°You barely survived being buried alive in a wooden coffin, and this is what you¡¯ve been worried about the whole time? I seriously can¡¯t tell if your still traumatized or just plain messed up!¡±


    ¡°Think about it, Ray-Ray! I, a woman with a beautiful figure, have been by your side since we both started this crazy war in 1914! Yet you never taken advantage of me even when I give you all the right messages! Is my sex appeal realy that flat!? or are you an iron wall made from the bricks of pure chivalry!? If it¡¯s the latter, please break it and just pounce me already! I-I feel like my pride as a woman is suffering depression even as we speak!¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t understand why you¡¯re so obsessed about that kind of relationship or play. I have no interested in hurting a girl, and I even plan to find one AFTER the war is over so she doesn¡¯t have to pick at prayer beads for my safe return! Sleipnir, please go back to bed. You had a long and trying day. Even your magic doctor said you''re still shaking from the event. I¡¯m just heading out for a wash, not to have a liason with a shady women like some kind of cheating husband,¡¯


    ¡°Nyaah! M-my husband, with another man? CHEATING! I¡¯LL CUT HIM AND NEUTER HIM! I¡¯LL CRUSH HIS DADDY BAGS AND MAKE SURE HE DOESN¡¯T TAKE YOU AWAY!¡±


    ¡°The h*ll, I don¡¯t swing that way! Now get off of my leg! Medic! Someone get a medic! This crazy witch has lost it!"


    ¡°Lassie? LASSIE!? IS THAT THE NAME OF THE FRENCH NUN B*TCH WHO KEPT TRYING TO MAKE A PASS AT YOU! I¡¯LL SKEWER HER ***** OFF AND GRIND IT INTO HER **** AND THEN SHOVE IT UP HER *****!¡±


    ¡°SLEIPNIR! Y-YOU¡¯RE SUFFERING A MENTAL BREAKDOWN! CALM DOWN OR THE DOCTOR IS GOING TO GIVE YOU A SEDATIVE!¡±


    ¡°RAY-RAY! WHY CAN¡¯T I SEE! WHO TURNED OFF THE LIGHTS! HOW COME I ONLY SEE NOTHING BUT RED! K-KILL THE BITCHES! KILL THE BITCHES! KILL THE¡ª¡±


    Fortunately, the Canadian Witch who suffered her first mental breakdown in the war was given a lovely shot of highly effective anaesthetics to numb more than her emotional pain. If there was a way to best describe what happened her for the next five days after being buried alive, it would be the fact she looked higher than a kite.


    ¡°Looooooh. Ha-ha. The moon is so round. I love it when it has a big @ss. Raaaaay-Raaaaay. Wh-why don¡¯t we get down and have lots of babies~--hiccup?.¡±


    ¡°¡­...What the h*ll did they give you?¡±


    Cocaine, a widely accepted analgesic at the time.

 Twenty-Fourth Claw of the Eagle (Bullet or Tackle)

    ¡°R-Ray-Ray. Wh-what do I do?¡±


    ¡°Not shoot me would be number one on the list.¡±


    Bastogne, Blegium.


    The land was found in between the French border and the Imperial German border, so it was usually stuck in between both warring nations, a highly contested battlefield. Due to the strategic value of Belgium, if either warring party were able to control the territory, they would essentially have easy access to enemy terrain and deploy their troops and heavy artillery with very little resources.


    At this point in time, it has been a pass and go. Monday to Wednesday, the Allies and Belgium Resistance have control. Then from Thursdays to Sunday, the German Empire had claim. It was pretty much like a tug of war situation, only neither side were going to let go of the rope even if their hands were red and bleeding.


    That was why it made so much sense, to see a certain all black triplane Sopwith Camel fighter plane half-buried in the mud and dirt in the fields of Bastogne. The air raid was dispatched on Wednesday, the moment midnight struck and Thursday came - all h*ll broke loose. The German anti-aircraft machine gun fire came in too fast for anyone to recover.


    "Mein gott! Wh-why are these German Rifles so-so hard to carry! I-it''s heavier than my dress!"


    "...Sleipnir. Now isn''t a good time to use German to express your frustration...you''re confusing the person who''se holding me at gunpoint. I think he''s starting to believe you''re spy on his side."


    "NEIN! I''ll never betray my country! Vive Le Canada! Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the waves!!"


    "Nuwooh!? D-don''t just up and sing Rule Britannian out of the blue! Y-you''re p*ssing off the one whose holding me captive!"


    The pilot from the downed Sopwith Camel was an Ace among Aces. Althought he wasn''t necessarily the legendary Toronot-born pilot, Billy Bishop, this gentlment in question fly over 60+ aerial missions and leads his own No. 10 Naval Squadron (callsign Black Flight).


    His name was Raymond Collishaw. Fighting along side him, was his partner, a member of a hidden Canadian Witch Corp. She was best described as a beauty wearing a showy dress made of 1000 raven feathers. People would think, she would be wielding around a stick she would call a wand to cast spells and incantations.


    For some reason, she was actually holding onto a Gewehr 98, a standard issue rifle in the Imperial German army.


    Maybe it was because her Pilot friend was being held at gunpoint by a German soldier.


    "D-don''t worry, R-Ray-Ray! I-I''ve seen the silent movies where the prota-protagonist can shoot at the hostage taker by hitting him in the most exposed area possible! I-I know I can make the shot."


    "Sleipnir. I beg of you - don''t do it. You haven''t taken a proper gun safety course. There is no way you could fire a high-powered rifle without dislocating your shoulder. Th-the shock itself would throw off your aim."


    "...D...dislocated my jaw? Uwa-uwa-uwa. I-I didn''t know it had that big of a kick!"


    "I said shoulder. Come two steps closer to listen to me properly, b-but no more or you''ll provoke our German friend."


    "...........Don''t worry, Ray-Ray. If it''s for you, my jaw will take it."


    "I SAID LISTEN TO ME PROPERLY! DON''T SHOOT! EITHER OF YOU!"


    It was a mess. Right after the Black Maria got hit by a series of anti-air machine guns from the Imperial German trenches, it knocked the engines out of commission and forced both the Canadian Pilot and the Canadian Witch to experience a hard landing. Fortunately, the mud in No Man''s Land was sufficient to cushion their fall to prevent any major concussion, however they ended up landing on top of a German gun bunker made of wood and bricks.


    The crash alone, annihilated a good portion of the trench line, taking out several soldiers in the process. It was only a matter of time before the others would realize their defenses were breached and will send out men to both invesitgate and shoot on sight. Hence why Raymond Collishaw struggled to pluck the Canadian Witch out of the squished cockpit of his plane''s tail gunning session.


    It was highly unfortunate, that one German soldier had survived, found a weapon and barked at them to stand still.


    "O-okay Kraut! I know you can understand some English so l-listen up! P-put the gun down, or I''ll shoot you! If you don''t comply, I''ll shoot you! If you shoot my darling, I''ll shove this rifle up your @ss personally!"


    "Sleipnir! That''s too graphic! You''re already making my captor nervous!"


    ¡°H-how can you joke at a time like this, Ray-Ray!? He¡¯s going to kill you and capture you! Or wosre, throw you into a pit of German Shephards! I-it''s still the peak of m-mating season, y-you know!¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°What he does, doesn''t matter right now. I''m more concerned with the rifle in your hands! I''ve never seen you use so much as a pistol let along a child''s slingshot. I-I have zero confidence in your ability to upgrade straight to a hunting rifle!"


    "...A-are you s-suggesting, w-without training th-this thing will explode in my hands! Uwa-uwa-uwa. Th-that sounds super scary... B-but how come it looks so easy for your men to point this thing at others and start shooting? C-certainly, th-there has to be a trick to simplfy the controls!"


    "........................ Please don''t pull the trigger. Even to save my life."


    "Heh? You mean this one?"


    "NO! SLEIPNIR! THAT...was just the hammer, phew."


    "Oh you mean this little ding-a-ling right--"


    "DON''T TOUCH IT!"


    In a serious situation like this, it was hard if Raymond Collishawhad snapped from the tension, or was simply born a brave man who could smile through any adversity. Somehow, he felt he had the right to start yelling at the Canadian Witch, even while he had another German pistol touching the back of his skull.


    Now that you look at it, this simply was a dangerous scenario. Ignoring the fact the Canadian Pilot was held captire, the fact an untrained Canadian Witch holding onto a rifle of high calibre was just as scary. The Gewehr 98 was a bolt-action based Mauser rifle. Capabe of carrying a clip of a maximum of five 7.92 x 57 mm Mauser bullets, this rifle had been in service since 1898 to 1935, which was then replaced by the Karabiner 98k, or more popular known as the Kar98k. The Gewehr 98''s design was so smooth and practical that it became the inspiration for future bolt action rifles later re-designed by the British, Japan, and even the United States. Having seen first blood during the Boxer Rebellion, it eventually was widely distributed across both the Imperial German Army and the Ottoman Army when the First Great War had begun.


    Regarding to power - it had a muzzle velocity of 639 m/s, fired at a rate of 15 rounds / minutes, and had an effective range of 500 to 800 yards (depending on Iron Sight or Scoped). It could, essentially, punch through three stacked watermellons in a single pass...don''t imagine the after shock as skulls.


    So even if the Canadian Witch didn''t successfully hit the enemy''s head, the bullet itself was capable of going through virtually any flesh substance as if it were butter. And since this wasn''t a movie that allowed slow motion effects, there was no way anyone could dodge a bullet from such a rifle within a radius of 10 steps.


    "Ray-Ray. I-if you drop on your knees, I-I could get a clear enough shot to--"


    "No."


    "G-guh!? Y-you have to trust me, darling! I-I may not know what a gun even is, b-but I have various spells that allow me to adjust my aim! Wh-why, I-I can even use the last of my magic to learn the designs of the gun and how to operate it like an elite soldier! Y-yes...Oh cr*p, I-I think I left crucial ingredient of a wasp honey comb and elf leaves in the plane.......L-let''s go back to you dropping on your knees! I''m confident--"


    "No."


    ¡°Th-this isn''t good! Th-the German is yelling at me to drop my weapon! I-I can''t let things end like this, n-not when I haven''t even tried to bear darling''s child!"


    "...Oi."


    "Uuuh. I-I know! I know! I''ll use Colossal Titan Spell, that Mystical Rangers usually apply in combat! Y-yes, I can double the damage point of one shot and take out that lousy Kraut B@stard that''s holding you hostage.................."


    "........Slepnir. I sense a ''however'' that you''re not telling me."


    ¡°The spell deducts five points of accuracy...I-it''s just five points, th-that''s not much right!?"


    "Nein."


    "UNYAAAH! W-was it the Kraut or you who said that!?"


    Raymond Collishaw was in a pinch. A German Soldier pointed a gun from behind. A certain Canadian Witch was pointing a gun at front. He wasn''t a soldier who specialized in trench warfare, but he could already imaging 1000 different scenarios that this could end badly.


    The Witch girl shoots - Bad end. The German Shoots - Bad End. The Witch and German Shoots - Super Bad End. The last thing Canadian Pilot wanted, was to see anyone''s brain matter flying over his face.


    There had to be a solution to this messed up Mexican Standoff.


    "...Ray-Ray. I''m sorry but... I love you."


    "I understand. I hope your jaw doesn''t get blown apart from the recoil of the rifle."


    "........................................................................."


    "...NOW YOU HESITATE!?"


    "I-I...I don''t want to lose you... and I-I want to keep my face intact... I....I............Huu...huuu....HUAAAAAAHNGGAH! YIPPEE KAY YAY, MOTHER--!"


    "NO! ANYTING BUT A RECKLESS AMERICAN CHARGE!"


    The Canadin Witch made her move. She took the first steps that would eventually reach the conclusion of this standoff. Will it be a happy ending like the Battle of Gettysburg, or another re-enactment of the Last Alamo. The only way one could truly decide the fate of the world, if they boldly reach out and grasp it with their fingers.


    "§®§Ö§ß§ñ §Ù§à§Ó§å§ä §²§à§Ò§Ú§ß. §Á §Õ§Ö§Ó§å§ê§Ü§Ñ. §®§ß§Ö §ß§â§Ñ§Ó§ñ§ä§ã§ñ §ç§à§ä-§Õ§à§Ô§Ú §Ú §Ü§à§ê§Ü§Ú! §µ §Þ§Ö§ß§ñ §Ü§â§Ñ§ã§Ú§Ó§à§Ö §á§Ý§Ñ§ä§î§Ö! §®§ß§Ö §à§é§Ö§ß§î §Ø§Ñ§Ý§î! §´§í §Ú§Ù§Ó§Ú§ß§ñ§Ö§ê§î§ã§ñ! LEEROOOOOOOOOOOOOY!"


    "WHY ARE YOU YELLING IN RUSSIAN AT TIME LIKE THIS--NUWOOOOH!"


    The Canadian Pilot ducked at the last minute, the tip of the rifle flying over his head. Ther German Soldier was not as fortunate, as his head was too confused from the random outburst of a different language hammering his senses. Fortunately, the Geweher 98 in the Canadian Witch''s hand had no bayonet, so he was not run through.


    Unfortunately, they both tipped over like tea pots and fell into a messy pile.


    ¡°NYAAAAAH! TAKE THIS YOU KRAUT B@STARD! AND THIS! AND THIS! I¡¯LL SCRATCH YOUR EYES OUT! GYAAAAAAAAH!¡±


    ¡°Sleipnir, enough! You¡¯re going to kill the poor girl¡­.Heh? Girl?¡±


    ¡°GYAAAA! GYAAA! GY¡­..Heh? Wh-why is this guy moaning like a lady¡­...GEH!? A GERMAN MULAN!?¡±


    Turns out the German Soldier was a girl pretending to be a boy. Her backstory was complex and it involved bribing recruiting officers with lots of Schnapps, but we''ll leave that side plot for another time.


    "...Ray-Ray...this crossdress''ers breasts are bigger than mine...I''LL CUT OFF THOSE***** AND GRIND THEM INTO ****, THEN I''LL TAKE ALL YOUR GOOD BITS AND SHOVE THEM UP YOUR ****** WITH THIS RIFLE IN MY HAND!"


    "S-STOP IT, SLEIPNIR! THE POOR GIRL IS ALREADY WAVING HER WHITE HANKY IN SURRENDER! SHE''S JUST TRYING TO RAISE MONEY TO FEED HER 10 SIBLINGS, SO-SO JUST GET OFF HER AND LET - HER - GOOOOOOOOOO!"


    In the end, the Canadian Pilot and Canadian Witch were able to sneak back to their Allied Headquarters, with a certain German soldier (girl) in tow as a house warming gift. The details of her whereabouts would be left for another day, but rumorhad she was able to extradite all of her 10 siblings and live in a certain farming town in Ontario, as part of a Prisoner of War re-allocation program.

 Twenty-Fifth Preparation of the Walrus (POLL AVAILABLE)

    ¡°Ray-Ray. Have you ever wondered what you¡¯ll do after this crazy war?¡±


    ¡°¡­I don¡¯t know. Settle down and raise alpaca on the farm... Hmm...Maybe I should relocate to Bell Island, Nova Scotia.¡±


    ¡°...A...alpaca? I-in Canada!?"


    "Don''t you know? We also have Llamas in Newfoundland too."


    "N-nuwoooh!? M-my mind just exploded from this sudden revelation!!"


    "Said the self-proclaimed Magic Specialist.Sigh."


    1917, the First Great War.


    Everything started when the Central Powers of Imperial Germany, the Kingdom of Austria-Hungary, and the Ottoman Empire decided to co-conspire against the whole world and began to expand their territories across the lands of Europe. Whether it be the planes in the air or the tanks on the land and the soldiers in the trenches, they were willing to go at all cost to become the strongest super powers of their time.


    Even if it meant picking a fight with the United Kingdom and her colonies, the United States of America, the French Army, the Italian Royal Guards, or even10 other states and nations aligned to the Allied Powers. The iron will to survive and evolve into a new era of science and warfare was too great to be ignored by a simple shrug of a shoulder.


    Among those who valiantly put their lives on the bitter line to bring forth that brand new future, was a certain Canadian Pilot and a certain Canadian Witch. One was an Ace among the Aces, a talented fighter plane rider serving the British Royal Naval Air Service (now called Royal Air Force), Canadian Unit. Then there was that girl who claim she could wield great magic on the arcane-side of the battlefield and was an elite member of the hidden Canadian Witch Corp.


    The duo could be found on an airfield of a hidden airbase in the coast of Italy. On the shores was an Allied Dreadnought of the British Royal Naval, and the skies were controlled by squadrons of British Avro 504 Reconnaissance Biplanes and Bristol F.2 Fighter units.


    Everytihng was being set up for an up coming operation in the Mediterranean Sea, where the Canadian Pilot will lead the No. 10 Naval Squadron (callsign Black Flight) into Ottoman Territory to gain air supremacy for the Allied forces in the dune seas. The mission will begin in about 1500 hours (3:00 PM), so they had to prepare for the major sky offensive. Refuel, maintenance, and ordinance stocking was imperative in these crucial hours.


    ¡°I¡¯m serious, Ray-Ray. What do you have in mind when this war is over. Certainly, you¡¯re not going to prepare for another conflict anytime soon. No man could stay in the army forever.¡±


    ¡°You''d be surprised of my friends who spent all their days fighting in the trenches and made it through operations at Vimy Ridge and Passchaendale. They may be tired, but I could still see the fire in their eyes in wanting another go at the next World at War. I myself would be ready to answer the call of her Majesty the Queen should she declare another war on a global enemy."


    ¡°Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. How disappointing. The great Raymond Collishaw is not even listening to a simple Witch¡¯s question. Stop avoiding the topic. This is very important for your psychological assessment! Do you truly believe you''re body would truly adjust to a normal life after enduring so many dangerous tribulations? The moment you sit down in your favorite rocking chair in front of a warm fire - you''ll become so restless...If it''s any consolation, you could leave me your address and I could - fu-fu-fu - volunteer to keep you company, especially those cold and lonely winter."


    "Hmm."


    "...You stopped listening at psychological assessment, didn''t you?"


    "What? Sorry, Sleipnir, I''m busy. I need to make sure I have enough rounds loaded into Black Maria, and prevent the feed belt from jamming her guns. Even with the new upgrades with the new syncronization gear. This involves a lot of focus and calculation on my part, so it''s tricky to balance a conversation with someone as I''m fixing the gears."


    "...So. Essenially, you''re calling me annoying."If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    "More like mathematical interference."


    "I''M HURT!"


    The Canadian Witch was a beautiful woman who wouldwear this super showy dress made out of 1000 raven feathers. That was not a metaphor -it was a god-d*mn fact. She said she had magic, so even her clothing had to have some magical influence to support her abilities. In a sense, the 1000 raven feathers covering her body were all held together by a form of magnetic force. If one were to pull on it the wrong way it would destroy itself and scatter, revealing everything that is to know about her body.


    Despite her complex beauty and long black silky hair, there are times where she could be seen having hackles on the back of her neck when she snaps her teeth like a angry German Shephard. Like right now, for instance.


    ¡°Ray-Ray. Look at me. From this point on, when the war is over, you will settle down with me and we will have lots of bouncing children!We''ll live in a little house on the prairie, and it''s so secluded no one will give a two fig about the messy noises we make!...Uwa-uwa-uwa. I-I''ve suddenly become super excited by this revelation.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Nice try, Sleipnir. But I¡¯m immune to your hypnotism, remember?¡±


    ¡°God-D@mn it Ray-Ray! I was trying to persuade you to forget about fighting a crazy Second Great War! H-how on earth did my Chest Diversion fail to distract you! U-usually many men I don''t like fall for that trap!¡±


    The Canadian Pilot let out a sigh. He felt the war will be over soon. It had been going on since the fires started in 1914. Now it was 1917. He may not have the power to see the future like the Canadian Witch (which she keep bragging about it), he knew this war would eventually come to a closing end.


    What would happen then? Could he really see himself sitting in a cottage raisingalpaca on Bell Island, Nova Scotiaas a pastime? He wondered, who would he share the rest of his life with. Deep down, he knew his future had nothing to do with a certain long silky black hair beauty like the one wailing over his shoulders.


    ¡°Sleipnir. I appreciate all you''ve done for me, and as a gentlemen the most I can do is shake your hand in gratitude. Also, I''m trying to refuel Black Maria with Petroleum. It''s highly flammable. Pressing your chest against my back is not a good idea right now."


    ¡°The h*ll is wrong with you, Ray-Ray!? You¡¯ve flirted with that British Magician from M.I.-whatever, the Italian Druid dressed as a green nun, and even the French Resistance Witch who always greets you with lots of tongue! You¡¯re Canadian, be loyal to your country and hug a fellow maiden from the land of the maple leaf!¡±


    ¡°Just because we¡¯re both Canadians, doesn¡¯t mean we have to marry each other on first sight.¡±


    ¡°Sh*t. Did I get the Love Gaze spell wrong? The formula I made was flawless, so how could I fail so miserably!?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll pretend I didn¡¯t hearthat. Now help me in loading this bomb onto Black Maria.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­ Pass.¡±


    ¡°No. You¡¯ve been lazing around on my plane long enough. As my partner, you have toput your back into helping me now. So please quite dawdling like a bored quail and get over here!¡±


    ¡°Meap! Meap! (OxO)¡±


    The Pilot, by the name of Raymond Collishaw, had his beloved all black triplane Sopowith Camel with the words ¡®Black Maria¡¯ carved into the sight. He was the Flight Lieutenant of the No. 10 Naval Squadron (callsign Black Flight). Among the squadron, there were other well known British and Canadian Pilots who commandeered their own custom black aircraft: the Black Roger, the Black Death, the Black Prince, and the Black Sheep. Together, they were one of the most recognized fighter group in the entirety of the First Great War, having accomplished many missions and even clashed with the notorious Imperial German''s Red Baron and his Jagdgeschwaders (Flying Circus).


    ¡°Sniff. Sniff. Ray-Ray is slave driving me (TxT).¡±


    ¡°The bomb in your hand is less than 100 pounds. It¡¯s no heavier than a newborn.¡±


    ¡°Now that you put it like that, there¡¯s no way I¡¯m dropping this sucker to the ground¡ªEEEP!¡±


    ¡°CAREFUL!¡±


    The only reason why this great flying legend was putting up with the antics of the Canadian Witch was simple. Believe or not, even in the First Great War there existed Magic. As much as the Magical Society hidden in Britain, Canada, America, and other parts of the world want to keep their existence unknown, there were still those in the Imperial German Army, the Austria-Hungarian Forces, and the Ottoman Empire who were willing to betray the Secrecy Protocol for the sake of victory.


    It¡¯s only obvious that the Canadian Witch Corp, the British Magic Division, the American Arcana Society, and other magician group were sent to deploy magic countermeasures againstsuch enemy. Hence why this Canadian Witch was the Canadian Pilot¡¯s partner. Note: she hated flying.


    ¡°Sleipnir. Forget it. I¡¯ll handle the rest. You¡­ can go and sit in the shade like you always do. I won''t judge you.¡±


    ¡°Uuuuh. Ray-Ray. I-I¡¯m not useless! I-I¡¯m a Witch, I am not at all capabe ofmanual labour! S-so please - don¡¯t divorce meeeeeeee!¡±


    ¡°¡­We¡¯re not married, s-so please stop hugging my leg! The-the Dreadnought Crew will start gossiping about us, even if they''re all men! J-just, wipe away your tears and sit to one side until I''ve finished prepping Black Maria. The last thing I want to deal with is you suffering from a sudden heat stroke... So be a good girl, please.¡±


    ¡°FINE! BE THAT WAY! GO AHEAD AND HAVE AN AFFAIR WITH YOUR TRIPLANEWAIFU IN FRONT OF MY FACE! SEE IF I CARE IF YOU''RE BOTH HAPPY TOGETHER! HMPH!¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­.. I seriously want to go to tbed.¡±


    The Canadian Pilot can¡¯t say he would like to go home. The War wasn¡¯t even over yet. Sigh.

 VOL2 - Entry #1 = The Pilot and the Raven

    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>June 3, 1917


    Allied Airbase in Calais, France


    No. 10 Naval Squadron


    231st Royal Flying Corp</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    I have just been promoted to Flight Commander of


    my own squadron. Our call sign is ''B'' Flight. I want to


    be excited, but it''s not possible.


    The Red Baron andhis Flying Circus are shooting


    down our morale. Ever since Bloody April,Everyone


    is losing hope for winning the war in Europe.


    Recruited some good pilots to make the team. Ellis Reid and


    Marcus Alexander from Toronto, J.E. Sharman from Winnipeg,


    and Gerry Nash from Hamilton. I''m the only BC guy, so got


    to make a good impression for the boys.


    Hope the boys from Canada and I could make a difference.


    We want to at least get back home with heads held high.


    Last thing we want is our future kids looking down on us.


    Command is giving us new planes to fight the Germans.


    We''re excited, heard they were the latest fighter models ever


    to be made for the War. Can''t wait to fly them.


    Got a strange letter this morning, that command will be giving me


    one more person, but he doesn''t have a plane. I wonder who he is.


    Is he Canadian too?


    ~ Collishaw


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <hr>


    ¡°Hello darling. I¡¯ll be your wife for the remainder of this war. Please take good care of me.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­What?¡±


    Raymond Collishaw was born in a small town on a small island off the mainland coast of British Columbia. He always wanted to join the Royal Navy, but he didn¡¯t heard back from them, so he decided to enlist his services to the Royal Naval Air Service.


    From 1915 up to this year of 1917, he had been working hard to make a difference to this war. Now, he was the leader of an important squadron that would change the face of aerial combat history in the months to come.


    Yet, his first day as squadron leader started with a beautifully strange woman knocking on his office door. He had just woke up, he didn''t get a chance to grab a comb to calm his bed hair.


    ¡°¡­Wh¡­who are you, miss? And... is Halloween early in France? Wh-what''s with the fluffy costume?¡±


    ¡°Did you not receive the letter? I am a member of the Canadian Witch Corp, Newfoundland Regiment. My duties will be strictly to counteract against magicians serving the German army. I hope to be of use foryou in the future campaigns together. Tee-hee.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­ Are you a man?¡±


    ¡°The last time I checked in the shower, yes I am.¡±


    ¡°Then what do you say to a lady when she is holding onto a large valise in her two small hands in front of you?¡±


    ¡°¡­Um...How much does it weigh?¡±


    ¡°Th-that is the worse response possible!¡±


    Raymond Collishaw didn¡¯t understand. The first thing he had planned all night, was to begin full maintenance of the new model planes he was given for his squadron. He heard they were specialized for high-aerial combat, with increase acrobatic performances. They were beingshipped oversea fromFolkstone Harbour of Great Britain,where they will be delivered via trainway to the nearestAllied Air Base in Calais.


    Based on experience, he knew the production models were not enough to keep up with the German Fokkers D.VIII the or the Gother G.V bombers that were given superior light-weight and tactical design. He had to improve the specs of the planes before they could even dream about encountering German aces close to the Red Baron.


    Having fought him and barely escaping alive on numeours occasions, the Canadian Pilot knew how necessary it was to be at his best game with the best weapon on the playing field.


    Yet somehow, he felt like he screwed up somewhere in his detailed plan by showing up to answer a knock on his office door with only his tanktop and uniform pants. He didn''t have times to find socks.


    The girl standing in front of his room with a large travelling bag tried very hard to not stare any lower than his belt.


    ¡°¡­ Sorry. I don¡¯t have enough pocket money to buy cookies. You can try the Field Commander¡¯s officer, right next to the hangar with the British Mark V tanks. He has three children back in London, so maybe if you ask nicely and use the right words, he''ll buy your entire inventory.¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°I TOLD YOU, IAM A WITCH! NOT A F**KING GIRL SCOUT SELLING COOKIES TO SHADY STRANGERS DOOR TO DOOR! C-can you please just carry this heavy @ss bag for me!? A magician of my stature is not meant for physical labour! Hurry, the nerves in my fingers are going numb from dragging my clothing and magic equipment for 6 hours!"


    "...Oh. Right. My bad... Wait, this isn''t heavy at all. See, one hand is doable."


    "Repeat that sentence after I polymorph you into a girl who had just turned 17."


    "............I-I''ll be quiet now...Sorry."


    The Canadian Pilot eventually submitted. He picked up her bags and put them aside. There wasn''t much room, his quarters were smaller than his bedroom back at home. A single bed, a work table, a lamp, an independant bathroom with working shower.


    Although he was on the edge of France in the middle of the First World War, the room itself kind of reminded him of a boarding school space. Dim and dreary with only one window to keep up with the daylight.He himself had just moved in soon after receiving his promotion to full class officer, so he hand''t unpacked his own things. Meaning it was going to be cramped if he unpacked, eventually.


    When he tried to take a moment to understand what was going on, something caught him off guard. It was best described as this wierd girl marching into his officer cabin... as his quarter belonged to her since the day she was born. She even kicked off herlong heeled leatherboots and sighed when she stretched her sore feet.


    Somehow, the way she moved reminded the young man of a raven... a very lazy one.


    ¡°Hm. This bed isn¡¯t comfortable. Please put in a requisition for a softer mattress, oh with goose down. You see, I have acquired a bad back during my training in Nova Scotia, so I can¡¯t sleep on something that¡¯s like a white brick.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­That¡¯s my bed.¡±


    ¡°I am aware of that.¡±


    ¡°Are you suggesting that should I sleep on the floor from now on? Even when this is my own quarters?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think I would be doing that in your stead right!? I may be a Witch, but I¡¯m still a lady!¡±


    There was this steep silence. Like when a plane takes a nose dive from a high altitude, not making any gestures to pull up from its suicide drop, then it pulls back up at the last second to conduct three major loops in quick succession. Something that would make audience¡¯s hearts just up and stop beating for the duration of those three loops.


    ¡­Then Raymond Collishaw spoke up.


    ¡°Sorry. But you need to leave. This is a military base, not a playground. I ask that you leave the premises or you will hurt yourself from heavy machinery.¡±


    ¡°NuwoooH! D-don¡¯t just up and princess-carry a girlin order to toss them out like dirty laundry! I-I¡¯m really a Witch! Didn¡¯t you read the god-d*mn letter explaining about our background!?¡±


    ¡°Frankly, I only skimmed thefirst introduction page out of the 30, I''m anticipating the arrival of the new Sopwith planes that are being transported all the way from Britain. I don''t have the luxury to read through all the thick layer of documentation, or serve you tea and scones as you explain to me your complicated backstory."


    ¡°I-I would prefer bacon slices and maple syrup. I heard the wine in this part of France has a rich texture, we could try that for starters.¡±


    ¡°In all kindness - get out.¡±


    ¡°WAIT! LISTEN TO ME! TH-THIS WAR ISN¡¯T ABOUT BULLETS AND CANNONS ANYMORE! TH-THE ENEMY ISN''T JUST THE GERMANS OR THE OTTOMANS, I-IT''S A LOT MORE COMPLICATED THAN THAT NOW! TH-THIS IS SUPER SERIOUS!¡±


    The Canadian Pilot was known by his peers to be a nice man. If a soldier was breaking down from the stress of a firefight, he would tell him they were going to get through it with a smile. When a pilot was in trouble from enemy anti-air machine guns, he would gun them down with a smile. When he would face three German planes at the same time from different angles, he still would face them with a smile.


    Smile, smile, smile. Whether it be rain or shine, being yelled at by his superiors, he would clench his teeth with a grin. It was unclear if he was naturall optimistic on a 24/7 basis, or this was a psychological defense mechanism that Sigmund Freudn would have trouble to explain in full. Often times, his kind gestures would p*ss off the wrong people at the wrong time.


    For once, this was not the case anymore. Facing a beautiful girl who showed up as his door step, claiming herself to be a Witch who could use spells and magic... made him think of an old novel he read,where the protagonist was greeted by a stranger who claims she was his daughter... and how his grandson had a fever.


    So, he had to be rough with this new situation. He had no choice. The way he was trying to kindly push the girl out of the front door - was exactly how a grown man would attempt to push a cat into a bath tub. With her long arms and legs bracing the frame and her body refusing to budge... it was hard to keep fighting with a smile to endure the pain.


    ¡°AREN¡¯T WE CANADIANS! WE¡¯RE SUPPOSED TO BE NICE TO EACH OTHER, RIGHT!? RIIIIGHT!?¡±


    ¡°THIS IS A BATTLEFIELD! THIS IS NO PLACE FOR WOMEN AND CHILDREN TO HURT THEMSELVES! LEAVE IT TO THE MEN TO FACE THE HORROR ON THE WESTERN FRONT!¡±


    "SEXIST! SEXIIIIIIIIST! YOU HAVE ZERO FAITH IN WHAT A SCORNED WOMAN CAN DO! WE''LL MAKE A GERMAN MAKE A RUN FOR HIS MONEY IF THEY MESSED WITH US! LET ME GO! PUT ME DOWN! PUT - ME - DOOOOOWN!"


    Raymond Collishaw wasn¡¯t against women and their pursuit for equal rights. Back in his hometown, he would always offer an old lady his seat on theelectric trolleys, bow to a young mother, and let girls go out the door first. It''s just that, how to put it as accurately as possible... he panicks when he sees a girl cry.


    "I had high hopes for you as a fellow Canadian! Y-you''re nothing but a bully!...Sob."


    "Nuwooh!? W-wait! I-I believe you, y-you''re a Wizard. Y-you can fly on broomsticks and keep black cats by yourside. I-I totally believe you j-just please don''t cry in front of me!"


    "YOU''RE STILL MAKING FUN OF ME! I''M A WITCH GOD-D*MMIIIIIIIIT!"


    "THAT''S NOT WHAT I''M TRYING TO SAY! PLEASE CALM DOWN AND LISTEN TO MEEEE!"

 VOL2 - Entry #2 = Sopwith Triplane and Magic Circuits

    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>June 5, 1917


    Allied Airbase in Calais, France


    No. 10 Naval Squadron


    231st Royal Flying Corp</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    My team and I received the new shipment of planes. They''re


    the newest model in the Sopwith line. It has three wing layers!


    The problem is, we realized the current performance setting


    won''t be enough to deal with elite German fighter pilots like


    the Red Baron and his Flying Circus. They need to be more


    manueverable as well as fast in the air. It needs some upgrades.


    The boys and I are working around the clock to make adjustments


    and add some improvements. Maybe if we switched for a new engine


    and remove the one extra machine gun, we could balance out


    the weight ratio to improve lift. It might work.


    We got a deadline to achieve before we''re sent to the Western


    Front to support the troops on the ground. We need to be ready.


    I hope we could finish the upgrades post haste, with as little


    distraction as possible.


    ~Collishaw


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <hr>


    ¡°You have to believe me! I¡¯m a bonafide Witch from Canada! Look at my Identification Papers!I was even trained in Peggy''s Cove, Nova Scotia! How can you not have faith in a fellow Canadian!?¡±


    ¡°As much as I would like to listen to your story, I don¡¯t have the time. We¡¯re trying to reach a deadline before we go into full sortie. Could you pass me that wrench?¡±


    ¡°Who do you take me for? Do I look like the type of person you would want to boss around as a maid. I can turn you into a Rainbow Trout with a flick of my wand and.............G-geh. Fine! S-since you asked nicely, here you go! B-but don''t be mistaken, I''m not your caddy!"


    ¡°Thank you...Wait... Miss¡­ That''sa blow torch.¡±


    Raymond Collishaw was busy, so he had no time to fiddle around with a blow torch. The upgrades and mechanical improvements he was making didn¡¯t necessarily need him to cut open parts of his plane to install gears and switches. It would cost too much time and resources to put everything back together and that would push their timing back another week.


    The day his ¡®B¡¯ Flight have to be shipped back into the Western Frontwas tomorrow morning, 0800 sharp. The flight plan was to first launch from theCalaisairstrip, to make a quick stop at St. Omer, fly over the hills of Flanders, then refuel and rearm at the Hazebrouck Allied Airbase for battle.


    The German Empire was pushing hard, hammering the Allied Trenches and have been taking over multiple strategic strongholds in rapid succession. The events from the Battle of Arras were a disaster for the Royal Naval Air Service. They lost four times the number of planes compared to the German Lufstreikrafte. Due to these depressing results, that day was nicknamed Bloody April.


    Morale was already at a new time low¡­ Raymond Collishaw hoped he and his team could change that sad fortune around.


    ¡°A wrench. You know, a long metal tool with teeth that looks like a Y?¡±


    ¡°¡­Uuuuuh. This one!?¡±


    ¡°No. That¡¯s a screwdriver. I can¡¯t twist a nut and bolt with that.¡±


    ¡°Th-then, this one.¡±


    ¡°¡­That¡¯s a measuring device to see if a table is balanced or not.¡±


    ¡°¡­.. Uh.¡±


    ¡°Miss Witch. Do you even know what a wrench is?¡±


    ¡°O-of course! I-it¡¯s kind of like a Scottish Terrier, right? O-only... with Y-shaped horns?¡±


    ¡°There is a shed near the mess hall about 3 meters from here. Feel free to sit under an electric fan to cool down. If you need anything, feel free to speak with the local nun who breaches at the base on a daily basis.¡±


    ¡°G-guh!? D¡ªdon¡¯t look down on me like some lazy bum! I-I¡¯m here to pull my weight in this war, not sit around on my hands like a dead weight school girl! Move aside, let the professionals solve this equation with magic!¡±


    ¡°W-wait! Th-this is a nine cylinder engine! D-don¡¯t wrecklessly stuff it with questionable herbs or drip blood on it.¡±


    ¡°IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK OF MAGIC YOU BRAT!?¡±


    Raymond Collishaw hoped he could complete the adjustments by late noon. That way he could run some tests on the new 110 hp Clerget 9Z nine-cylinder rotary engine. They had to remove the stock engine from his plane as it lacked enough speed to get him enough lift to pull high gravity turns.


    Knowing German Fokkers, they excelled in making sharp U-turns once they fly past their targets to get a quick beat on them. With slow reaction and movements, it was only a matter of time any Allied plane would be gunned down.


    He was running all sorts of mathematical equations in his head that could help reduce drag and improve speed and maneuverability for his plane. However, due to thinking so deep to the point where he might go insane from thinking about Fibonacci''s Ratio - he failed to have enough mental power to defend himself from the girl who had shoved him aside. A splash of her long black silky hair hit him in the face, waking him up like a slap of cold water.


    ¡°Gughgg! Cough! Cough!¡±


    ¡°D-don''t bite on my hair! I-I''m trying to concentrate...Ramora-Akava!¡±


    The girl held out her dainty looking hand. It was smooth, free of callouse, as if she never touched any that weighed more than a fine china tea cup. With a rotation of her wrist, her bridal gaunlet like sleeve ejected a thing wand carved from an arbutus tree.


    A spark of strange light emitted from the tip. Soon, a pulse of strong green light radiated from the end of the hand-carved wand and washed over the side of the exposed engines.With a stick of her soft tongue and fine eye-hand coordination, she used a small Telekinetic spell to make the nuts automatically turn to tighten itself.


    ¡°¡­Clockwise. You have to go clockwise or the bolts will loosen and fall off.¡±


    ¡°I-I know that! I-I¡¯ve studied Psychic Powers! A-Abraham Lincoln discovered it right?¡±


    ¡°¡­I think you¡¯re trying to say Physics... And no, that''s Isaac Newton''s field of study.¡±


    ¡°G-guh!? SHUT UP!¡±


    The Canadian Pilot find it hard to believe, but once the nuts and bolts turned in the proper direction he could hear them tightening. The same way if he did all 10 bolts by hand, only with 10 hands simultaneously.


    ¡°¡­ I don¡¯t believe it.¡±


    ¡°See. This is proof that magic exists! Your government only tells you it doesn¡¯t exist, is because we made an agreement to hide in the shadows of your modern civilization. Ever since the Global Witch Hunt, everyone who knew or were adept in magic had to go into hiding or face false trials and gruesome execution. We left our homes, our nation, and our ancestrial roots to protect our lives and our traditions.¡±


    ¡°No. I mean I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re able to turn the nut and boltsso quickly. Maybe you should consider opening an auto repair shop with that talent.¡±


    ¡°ARE YOU MOCKING MY MAGIC, YOUNG MAN!?¡±


    The girl who called herself a Witch gnashed her cute teeth. The way her black hair splashed over her face when she flicked her head back in rage had an appeal that was almost irresistible not to look. Spitting her own black strands from her lips, she glared at the Canadian Pilot who had the expression of ¡®I want to take you seriously, but I¡¯m tired¡¯. We''ll talk tomorrow.


    ¡°Hey. While you¡¯re here, could you see if you can fix the tail rudder. It looks like it gets stuck halfway when I turn left. See, the rudder angle isn¡¯t going all the way. If this stays, my right turns would be short and slow, we can¡¯t risk that while fighting in the air with high speed German Machines.¡±


    ¡°I told you I¡¯m not an equipment you can use for your accursedmachinery! I am a Witch, a Magic Agent serving the British Magic Intelligence department! My jobs is to work along side regular soldiers in the army, and fight against magicians on the war front. To bring glory and pride to the British Empire!¡±


    ¡°¡­Wait. I thought you said you all decided to abandon your nations to live a life of solitude. Now you''re fighting against your own kind...What, are you suddenly in the middle of a Civil War?¡±


    ¡°N-no! Th-that''s not how it sounds! The German Empire have begun to deploy Magicians into the war, they''re attempting to turn the entire battlefront to their favor.It''s a complete breach in the Crowley Pact, where we should never interfere with the affairs of the modern world or set regular people as a target. If these Kraut Magicians came at you while you have no proper magical defense, every soldier on the air, land, and sea won''t stand a chance!"A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°¡­The fact that you¡¯re doubting my entiresquadron''s ability to survive in this war is rude.¡±


    ¡°Th-that isn¡¯t the point! This isn¡¯t like facing a line of machine guns which you can dodge! I¡¯m talking about Sorcerers summoning Hellhounds to rip your body to shreds; raising spears of ice from the ground to stop your artillery movement;or even creating walls of storms to blockade your offensive! They are taking complete advantage of this war, like an adult bullying a child!¡±


    "...................."


    "...Wh-what?"


    "I''m 24."


    "A-are you seriously paying attention to the weight of this situation!?"


    ¡°¡­ Then what about you? You said there is this law amongst your people that you cannot get involved with our war. What made you change your mind? Aren¡¯t you all breaking that same law?¡±


    ¡°W-we¡¯re different, we¡¯re the good guys! I-its only natural we come out of hiding to-to lend you all a helping hand!¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­.¡±


    ¡°N-now don¡¯t give me that stare, y-young man! It has ¡®you¡¯re just making excuses like the enemy¡¯ written all over it. I resent that! S-so don¡¯t look at me with that judging gaze.¡±


    Raymond Collishaw didn¡¯t mean to be rude. He knew when it was not nice to stare and when was a good time to do so. It''s not nice when someone is talking and you¡¯re looking so hard at them, he knew that. He often daydreams whenever his mother tried to tell him not to play ball inside of the house (which he earns karate chops to the head to wake him up).


    The only time it was considered proper, if the speaker is denying their problems like an alcoholic. It was that simple.


    ¡°U-uwa-uwa-uwa. Th-that serious look in your eyes is making my heart beat too hard.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­Are you really a witch?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course! I was born and raised in Bell Island, Newfoundland! I was born in Canada! My parents are legendary witches! Do you not see me waving my wand?¡±


    ¡°¡­Wait. Your parents were Witches. Doesn''t that mean they''re both... girls?¡±


    ¡°Yes. How I was born to be as beautiful as them is a mystery indeed."


    "That''s not the reason why I feel incredibly confused."


    "E-enough of this side talk. Listen properly! My duty is to protect you. Your team mates, and any poor soldier who has the crosshair of an enemy magician on their heads. We know not everyone is at fault for the Global Witch Hunt, it was all caused by lack of communication and xenophobia, conflict of cultures if you will. Our Magic Society only hid away in the best interest to keep both worlds from colliding like snooker balls¡­But now that our own kind is rising up to shoot you down with their powers¡­ it¡¯s only right that we cast aside the shadows we¡¯ve been living in ¨C and fight for our mother nation.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­..Wh-what? Wh-why are you staring so hard at my body!?¡±


    ¡°You remind me of something. Like when a bacteria infects the body.¡±


    "...Young man. Do you wish for me to strike you with my hands? Or with this weapon you call a Screwdriver."


    Raymond Collishaw held up a hand, trying to calm down the Witch who already picked up the blow torch from the ground. She didn¡¯t know how to turn it on. It was a simple as turning the canister nozzle to release gas at a certain constant flow of velocity, then add fire to the end to create a focused and pressurized flame cutter.


    But if it didn''t have an incantation, charm, or ritual involving a wide scale hex that could shake the city of Hamlet with dancing rats - she had no f**king clue how to use it. He was safe.


    Until she realized the canister itself was heavy and large enough to be used as an alternative melee weapon. Deadlier than a bayonet even. So he picked his words very carefully to defuse this battle on the ground.


    "...D-don''t touch that. I-it''s cursed by an evil wizard! The longer you hold it in your hands li-like that, i-it will turn you into a man. Wh-why, I used to be a pretty girl just like you three weeks ago."


    "GYAAAAAAAH! WHY THE H*LL DIDN''T YOU TELL ME BEFORE HAND! NYAAAAH! I-IS THERE AN ADAM''S APPLEGROWING IN MY THROAT!? IS THERE!?"


    As if the blowtorch was the plague itself, the Canadian Witch dropped the item and started to violenly rub her hands all over her dress. It was like she was trying to remove invisible mud from her palms.


    The Canadian Pilot bit his lips. If he lets out so much as a tiny chuckle, the ruse was over and the girl would rightully smack him on the head to defend her pride (and emberassment).


    "A-ahem. Wh-what I was trying to say is, th-that y-your Magicians showing up r-remind me of a bacteria getting into the body. Wh-when that happens, our immune system released antibodies to target the foreign infection and d-destroy it... N-now that you say evil Magicians are showing up every where, a-ahem. It''s only natural good Witches like you would show up and protect humanity right?"


    "...Young man. I feel like you''re making fun of me."


    "...N..no."


    "Look at my eyes when you lie to me, then I''ll believe you. Am I really a Streptococcus germ in your eyes? Haaah!?"


    ¡°W-wait, hold on. Th-the Great War i-is still on. Th-there''s no need to turn on each other i-immediately, r-right?¡±


    The Witch ended up forcing the Canadian Pilot to back up. The moment when his back hit the side of his plane, he knew that was where the road ends. And he hadn¡¯t even taken off from the ground as the Captain of ¡®B¡¯ Flight. What a shame.


    ¡°¡­I-I¡¯m sorry¡­ I will try my best to understand you better... P-please don''t poke me with that arbutus twig. I-I''m ticklish.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­.......¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­.. Miss, you¡¯re staring.¡±


    ¡°Sleipnir¡­ You can call me Sleipnir.¡±


    ¡°Is that...your name?¡±


    ¡°No. Due to my sensitive identity, this is a code name. I don¡¯t like it, but I have to bear with it as it matches my organic magic flow to my spiritual conduit. The last thing I want is to change my name to Susanna or Tiffany and experience unnecessary seizures every time I cast a spell.¡±


    ¡°¡­ I see.¡±


    The Pilot let out a sigh the moment the Witch stuffed her arbutus wand... down her blouse (cough). He watched her straighten the angry ruffles she made in her garment. It was an exotic dress that looked like it was woven from over thousands of raven feathers, tied together like a quilt that doubled as a ball dress. It wasn¡¯t a standard uniform, neither a robe that a military nun would wear¡­ but¡­


    ¡°¡­Y-you¡­ boy. If you tell me your name, I will call truce.¡±


    ¡°Lieutenant Raymond Collishaw, from British Columbia. Serial Number 2561A¡ª¡±


    ¡°W-wait! I-I asked for your name as a friend, n-not as an interrogator!¡±


    ¡°S-sorry¡­ I¡­ I honestly have never talked to a girl this close before¡­And¡­ you smell nice so I was distracted a bit.¡±


    ¡°Uwa-uwa-uwa. Sh-should I take that as a compliment or sexual harassment. Uwa-uwa-uwa.¡±


    The Witch was suddenly caught off guard by that small comment. The collateral damage was so high, she had to shield her cheeks from letting the red glow flow through her fingers. The last thing she wanted was to show any sign of weakness. Especially when she had to be seen as a strong ans useful indvidiual. After calming down, muttering some kind of magical hex or Buddhist sutra (unsure), she eventually held out a hand to¡ª


    ¡°I-I look forward to working with you, Raymond Collishaw¡­If you don¡¯t mind¡­ could I call you Ray-Ray. I¡¯m bad with names so I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Here. You start with the rear end and I¡¯ll work my way from the front. If we do it quick enough, we can finish coloring everything in a few hours.¡±


    ¡°¡­A¡­aheeh?¡±


    When the Witch held out her hand, to offer a possible hand shake to seal their relationship ¨C Raymond Collishaw absent mindely hung a bucket on her open palm. By the time she felt her other hand received a brush, she looked down to inspect the content of what she was holding.


    Black paint.


    ¡°I know it¡¯s against regulation to paint our aircrafts, but it can¡¯t be helped. The metallic material is too reflective and will blind us whenever we turn into the sun. He last thing we want is to crash into other planes when we''re supposed to be useful in the air. And since this is 80% off from the local paint store, I thought it was suitable choice.¡±


    ¡°¡­Wh¡­what¡­I?¡±


    ¡°Surely you know how to paint right? I mean, some of you have to draw symbols in caves to cast a spell to knock out a princess right?¡±


    ¡°Do¡ªdo I look like a Neanderthal!? Wh-why are you shoving a bucket of cheap paint and a horse brush into my hands! I-I¡¯m a Magic Specialist, I don¡¯t do hard labour!¡±


    ¡°The more help the better. It¡¯s all hands on deck from here on in, we have to get these planes flight worthy by tonight or we¡¯ll miss being shipped out to the front tomorrow morning. Come on. If we hurry we could paint over Black Roger, Black Death, Black George, and Black Sheep we could run a test flight before we hit the sack!¡±


    ¡°Stop! Th-this level of enthusiasm is scaring me! I-I may a be a Witch who has seen dangerous hexes and gorey magical explosions, I¡¯m still a girl! M-my arms will shatter if I lift anything more than a paperweight! I-I can''t even keep a bouncing baby in my arms for God-sakes!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you won¡¯t get your dress dirty. It¡¯s the same color anyway. Consider it as an initiation party to joining the ¡®B¡¯ Flight.¡±


    ¡°NO! STOP! D-DON¡¯T DRAG ME! DON¡¯T DRAG ME! I¡¯M HERE TO FIGHT MAGICIANS, NOT WORK INTO A SWEAT! NO! NOO! NOOOO OOOOO OOOOOOOO OOO!¡±


    And so Raymond Collishaw went to work. Adopting a new friend into his squadron, he had an extra pair of hands that allowed him to speed up the tasks that had to be completed before the sun set. He looked forward, seeing his new plane coming to full fruition. A brand new high powered engine, reinforced frame to endure both turbulence and high-gravity turns, a custom paint job.


    Somehow the Canadian Pilot understood why the Red Baron painted his aircraft a bright red. It wasn''t about blending into the sky or using camoflouge to improve stealth, not even comitting to uniformity at all.


    It just looked better than a standard plane... and to add the finishing touches, Raymond Collishaw added a simple name across the side of his pitch black plane, dibbed in golden letters.


    Black Maria.


    "...M...my hands... I-I can''t feel the skin of my own palms... m-my shoulder is going to pop out from hefting bucket after buckets of paint for you...T-take responsibility for my damages!"


    "Would a Crepe Suzette be sufficient? Sister Amelie makes the best ones in all of Calais, and she''s volunteering in our mess hall. I''ll introduce you to her."


    "I''m not in the mood to see your god-d*mn mistress. My hands are ruined because of you!"


    "...She''s a nun... and I told you to hold the brush like a pen, not like chopsticks."


    "I''M A WITCH! I''M NOT MEANT FOR PHYSICAL LABOOOOOOOOUUUR!"


    <hr>

 VOL2 - Entry #3 = Go for Black Flight.

    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>June 6, 1917


    Lynde, France


    ''B'' Flight Squadron (No. 10)</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    The boys and I have completed refueling at St. Omer.


    We''re order to conduct several patrol cycles to keep out


    German aircraft from invading the town of Lynde.


    Allied Command are attempting to create a foothold at


    Lynde, in preparing for a major offensive next month.


    They''ve already deployed the ''Prince of Wales Rangers''


    50th Field Artillery Regiment, the 102nd Battalion ''Irish


    Fusiliers'', including the 216th Briish Royal Engineers,


    to establish a forward base of operations.


    ''B'' Flight''s job is to provide air support when they launch


    the attack. For now, we''re hovering over the mountain ranges.


    I find that the Germans were always good at navigating


    through treacherous mountain ranges undetected.


    If that is the case, then we Canadian Pilots have to work


    harder and up the gamble.


    ~Collishaw


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <hr>


    "...I think we''ll call ourselves Black Flight. I mean, we''re designated with ''B'' and our planes are painted black. It think it''s a fitting title. Makes us look like the Allied version of the Germans Flying Circus squadron, don''t you think Sleipnir?"


    ¡°¡­Huuuurrrk¡­ Uuurrrrrgh.¡±


    "Please don''t throw up in your seat. It''s next to impossile to clean. Your bile and stomach acid would eat through the leather."


    ¡°I-I hate flying. Alright? Happy? Nowstop going up and down unnecessarily orI''ll...I''ll....Hurk¡ªBleeeeeeegh!¡±


    There were 10 Sopwith Triplanes that were flying over the small mountain range located some distance from the town of Lynde. it wasn''t as grand as the alps, but it had enough valleyes and coverage to hide a small enemy plane through the gaps, to prevent enemy detection of high-altitude telescopes.


    There was a certain Canadian Pilot leading his own four-man squadron in a large scale V-Wing formation. He would wave his hand to the other squadrons of the Royal Naval Air Service and Royal Flying Corp into different directions, in which they would partition into three equal pieces to broaden their range of aerial detection. His plane with the name Black Maria took his fellow pilots through a small forage of clouds. They reminded him of sheeps back in his hometown.


    So it would make sense he felt guilty in shredding through them with his plane''s propeller.


    He took a moment to steady his controls and pulled out his flight map. With a fountain pen he stuffed in his globe for easy access, he started to make some small scribbles and notes on the side of the map. Point-formed summary of his patrol report at the end of his 3 hour run before the planeshave to refuel again. It was his only method of escape from listening to the sounds of a cute girl flipping her guts out over the side of his aircraft,


    "...I don''t understand, Sleipnir. Aren''t Witches good at flying. Couldn''t you, you know, turn into a bat and stuff and take to the sky? You''re probably a flier than me."


    "S-such a prejudice remark! Just because I am a Witch doesn''t mean I shove a broom between my legs and flying around like a bee looking for honey!And that last part in your second comment makes me sound like a blood sucking vampire. That''s not what I am. I just dislike flying! Having nothing under my feet doesn''t sit well with me, so I make it an effort to devote myself to Evocation Style magic and skipped the Flight Spell courses...Uuurk."


    "...Why did they pair you with me again?"


    "Random lottery. It''s a terrible system. Buuurrgrghhll!"


    ¡°Not to be rude, but you should have stayed back in Calais or even St. Omer when we were refueling. I don''t care if Command ordered you to follow me, seeing how you can''t keep your stomach down from thinking about a barrel loop, I don''t feel comfortable in dragging you into battle."


    ¡°D-don¡¯t, uurk, look down on me! Just because I don''t specialize in Fly or Levitation Spell, I can still launch missiles of fireball, drop wall of ice, or even distort the winds withair funnels to give you more aerodynamics. I''ve endured being cramped in a tin can merchant ship while being shiped over here with 1900 other newly graduated Witches, I can totally tank--BLEEEEEEEEUUURRRRRGHKKK!"


    "Seriously, Sleipnir. You need to go to a hospital. You''ve been wretching for the last six hours, with only a 45 minute break when we landed in St. Omer. And what the h*ll, did you eat? Spider legs and lizard tails!?"


    "H-how rude! Only shady Druids who suck on toxic mushrooms would eat spider legs for their Web based magic spell. As for salamander''s tail, what''s wrong with it? It''s a special recipe that involves using British Columbian honey, Alberta barbecue sauce, and maple syrup from Saskatchewan! It''s delicious when roasted on an open yulelog fire!......Oh sh*t, uurg."


    "Over the side! Over the side! Not at my face!"


    Raymond Collishaw kept his eyes on the horizon, in time to avoid a beautiful girl flopping over the side of the air craft and making small noises that would ruin the romantic mood.


    The Canadian Pilot was flying a specially designed aircraft produced by the Sopwith Aviation Company. Titled the Sopwith Triplane it succeeded the previous Sopwith Pup model and carried three sets of foiled wings, as noted in its namesake. The Triplane was also designed with an extra set of flaps in the tail, a first in its line, in order to improve elevation and reduce stress in the main wing''s aileron flaps.


    Modified with a 110 hp Clerget 9Z nine-cylinder rotary engine, it had improved speed as well a lift that mixed engineering and aerodynamics to a whole new level. The aircraft was capable of conducting three vertical loops in rapid success, displaying efficient vertical lifts and maneuverings to get over and behind an enemy craft in rapid succession. However, given how bulky the plane as a whole was, it was noted to have awkward turning features that would make others think of a ''drunk man stumbling out of a pub after happy hour.


    Two notable weakness of course, would be how unstructurally stable it could be when experiencing high-gravity pinwheel turns for over long periods of time. The triple wings could potentially collapse on a weak support point in the frame and ultimately cave in if the pilot wasn''t careful in taking advantage of weight distribution and stress from Newton Force. It was armed with only a single Vicker Machine gun which was syncronized with the plane''s propeller to prevent it from being buzz-sawed by gunfire. It also carried a limited payload for bombing raids, so it was focused on being an air-superiority based fighter plane in high altitude combat.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    While the Canadian Pilot was marking off notes in the side of his map, he also kept note of how fast the fuel being consumed, the maximum velocity of the craft after different weather or flight conditions, as well as all the other dials displaed on his console.


    All the while the Canadian Witch tried to recover herself from her ''excitement'' in sitting in a new craft made by the realm of science.


    "...Ray-Ray. My body can''t take it anymore. I''m going to jump."


    "Please don''t. There''s only less than 2 hours worth of patrol time before we head back to base and refuel for the next run. If you could hold it in a little while longer, I would be most grateful. Maybe when we get back, I could ask your superior to transfer you to a proper location or--"


    "Oh god no. Th-the Director of the B-British Magic Intelligence will tie meto a light post, naked. I won''t last 10 seconds in French Winters! D-don''t worry. I''m a strong girl. I''m not meant for just cooking and knitting. I too am trained to fight in a war of bullets in order to take down magicians who betray the Crowley Pact and throwing off the balance of our two worlds into chaos. You may have your iron tanks, brave cannon horses, and thousands of men willing to give up their lives for the British Empire - but one careless Fireball spell could essentially obliterate an entire column. In order to reduce that form of casualty, I am hear to create the necessary countermeasure to protect you from enemy magic... It''s my duty, so, I shouldn''t be complaining."


    "..............................."


    "...Wh-what is it Ray-Ray? Y-you''re staring s-so hard into my eyes. I-is there something in my hair?"


    "It seems you''re getting used to flying in a plane. You haven''t thrown up in the last 10 minutes. I think that''s an improvement on your part, don''t you--"


    "BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEGH! EEEG! UUUURRRRRRRRRRK!... S...save me...Huurrk..."


    "God-d*mn it Sleipnir. Not the leather."


    Raymond Collishaw frowned at the sound behind him, but he did his best to not show it across his shoulder or body language. In his training with the Royal Naval Air Service, he spent the early days in the First Great War as a naval officer on the HMS Niobe. He remember those days were shipmates would try and get used to serving on a vessel on rocking waves while running around to keep the ship in tip top shape. Mock battles against fake targets, with the cannons rocking and barking in the sailors'' ears, didn''t help with keeping their breakfast, lunch or dinner down.


    He didn''t want to be seen as rude or inconsiderate, should there be a newbie trying to get used to flying in high altitude. Even he had head aches while adjusting to the lighter air pressure in the sky at first.


    Then, a small and shaking hand reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder. It was the quivering in the fingers that made him snap out of his thoughts more than the gesture itself.


    ¡°¡­ No matter what. Don¡¯t.. uurhg¡­. Don¡¯t leave me behind, Ray-Ray. I want to protect you, with all my might. I-it''s...uurk...my duty as a Canadian Witch."¡±


    ¡°M-Miss Sleipnir. I appreciate your help. But it''s best you stay on the ground from now on. For the sake of your health."


    "W-weren''t you, uuraggaa...L...listening to meeeeeuurrrrgg... Th-the Director will publicly hang me, hgg, upside by the toe for 10 days and 10 nights... H-her punishments a-are worse than the wish trials m-my ancestors had endured... Ggeehgg."


    To summarize the internal, external, physical, and psychological trauma that the Canadian Witch had experienced - she lookedl ike hammered sh*t. Sweat drenched her forehead, hair splattered all over her face, her neck trembling from excessive vomitting, and she tried to keep her next back of yesterday''s brunch down by holding a kerchief over her mouth.


    "Holy sh*t! Wh-when did my bile turn black as tar!?"


    "Oh sorry. That''s the towel I used to wipe thefuel stir stick."


    A certain pitch black hand towel was tossed out of the side of the plane, left to flutter over hundreds of French mountains like a wingless dove.


    ¡°¡­Miss Sleipnir. Tell me, why are you working so hard to follow me.¡¯


    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to die. That¡¯s my reason.¡±


    "............"


    "Honestly. Cough. The first time I met you, you seem like a nice individual. You didn''t question my background, or not to the point of raising the entire camp on an epic witch hunt after me! Y-you look intelligent enough to avoid re-enacting that tragedy!"


    "... I am not sure if I should feel flattered for my patience, or insulted for not being assertive enough about your re-assignment."


    "Also, Magic is wonderful. It''s a beautiful art that many of use mystical scholars wish to pursue, to master and refine our craft to it''s maximum potential. We honestly see it as a form of self-improvement and skill shaping, to help us grow and evolve. To use it as a weapon, it makes me sicker than flying in this plane... I would really, really hate to see our own people using magic for the wrong reasons against you... Fu-fu-fu. It would be sad if you didn''t survive this war, live to a ripe old age, settle down with a cute housewife, and raise five children on a small farm full of Blackface sheep....... Uwa-uwa-uwa. Wh-why am I suddenly imagining myselfas the small hosuewife in your family potential photo!> Uwa-uwa."


    "...Miss Sleipnir. You need to--"


    "Oh please, darling. Don''t add the fuel to the fire. I-I''m genuinely worried if I might just fall for your good looks, boyish charm, and that Cheshire grin of yours."


    "N-no. I need you to get down and--"


    "No, no, no. You shouldn''t rear sheep. It''s too bland. Alpacas, yes, alpacas."


    "Sleipnir."


    "H-heh!? Y-you dropped the miss!? D-did our relationship just evolved to a new level!?"


    "I''m going to do a barrel roll. Please grab onto something and... don''t throw up on me."


    "...Hmm?...What?... Wait, y-you''re serious! No! D-don''t turn the plane! Don''t tilt the plane! Don''t--GYAAAAAAAAAAAH!"


    Raymond Collishaw suddenly wrestled with the joystick and increased his craft''s thruster to maximum. With a swift tilt of his plane, he and his four other squad-mates broke their formation towards the four corners of the wings.


    In time to avoid several flights of German fighter planes charging through their patrol lines. They had somehow manipulated the routes within the mountains below the Allied patrol and masked their prescence with echoes negating each other in the mountain pass. By the time they spotted each other in the air, the two forces were suddenly on full collision course.


    "All wings, form up! Germans in the air! We got 15 planes in total, so grab your target and keep your wings down. Show them who they''re dealing with and give them a h*ll to remember!!"


    "NYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"


    The screaming of a cat caught in a blender like spin was drowned out by the dozens and dozens of airplanes that began to buzz in the air. 10 Sopwith Triplanes and 15 Albatross and Halberstadt fighters planes were now caught in a cyclone of their own making, spiraling up and down, banking to and fro, and trying to out run each other. With the German crafts good at making sharp left and right U-turns, the British planes made up for incredible vertical climbs and loops that out raced their enemies.


    "HURRRRRRRLLLL!"


    "Hoh!? G-good shot, Sleipnir! You got the Albatross pilot in the face! He''s going down! All wings listen up! Nash, you take out the Aviatik, it''s tail gun is giving us too much trouble. Reid on me, we''re going to clear our the main group. Sharman, Alexander work together and give us cover fire from enemy chasers and watch out for those Halberstadts! You guys got this, you''re all the best Canadians we have the air. So let''s waltz to the Dance of Death lads!"


    And so, begins the first skirmish of the legendary Black Flight Squadron (June 6, 1917).

 VOL2 - Entry #4 = In Flanders Field (Remembrance Day 2018)

    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>November 11, 1917


    Nieuwe Molen, Belgium


    2 km from Passchendale


    Third Battle of Ypres (Concluded)</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    It''s been five days since I crashed somewhere in Belgium.


    I lost my map when I landed, so I can''t tell which direction


    leads back to the Town of Passchendale. I hope my fellow


    Canadians were successful in taking the town from the


    German troopers.


    I''m alone with my partner. Both of us are injured from both


    the battle and the landing. We used up whatever rations


    we had left, and are forced to ''borrow'' chicken eggs or


    fruit from a farmer''s tree. I would like to ask for the locals


    help, but I can''t tell which part of Belgium is still under


    German control or not.


    Following my compass due north, and keep going straight.


    Hopefully, my partner and I will stumbled onto an Allied Trench.


    Who knows, maybe I would meet up with the 2nd Canadian


    Division and get some help.


    My leg''s all banged up, but my partner is in worse condition


    She shielded me from most of the damage during our fall.


    I want to thank her, but my lungs hurt really badly.


    ~Collishaw


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <hr>


    ¡°¡­Hey...Ray-Ray. Wh-where are we? D-did we just enter the realm of Valhalla? L-look at all these flowers made of ruby gemstones!¡±


    ¡°No. Those are Poppies, so I''m pretty sure we''re still in Flanders, Belgium. I wonder if we''re even close to returning to the battlefield in Passchendaele."


    Raymond Collishaw tried to walk on his two feet, but even with a tree branch he broke off to use as a walking stick his gait was rather clumsy. He felt guilty in having to lean all of his weight onto the Canadian Witch who was really no older than 18. However, his leg was broken and moving was almost unbearable without help. He had to use his scarf to tie up two pieces of cork bark he ripped from a tree in a wine field. The Canadian felt guilty, for wrecking private property and having to steal scraps of food from farmers, but his body got the best of him in order to survive.


    He glanced at his bandaged leg. It''s been a few days since he tied it, the blood that drenched through his flight scarf was now caked in both mud and his blood. It looked awful, so he tried not to look at it.


    At the same time, he kept his wandering eyes on the horizon, not on his partner''s legs. The Canadian Witch''s magical dress made of raven feathers was torn up, exposing her mid riff that had this killer looking gash swiped across her stomach. It looked like some kind of giant prayer mantis got a good slice into her flesh.


    Also, the skirt of her black feathered gown was torn up. It was mostly because she offered them as bandages to tie up Raymond Collishaw''s cracked head and creating a makeshift sling for his one wounded arm. It first started with 2 inch wide strips to stop his bleeding, but every nice whenever he passed out she would secretly change most of his bandages to prevent infection.


    Thus, her calves covered in mud, blood, and cuts from shrubberies painted her once fine legs from toe to above the knee. Normally, she would complain of the condition, but today she rather shut up and carry a grown man on her shoulder.


    "...Ray-Ray. It''s been days since we last saw anyone from the Allied Forces. Are you sure we''re going the right direction."


    "No. The map got burnted up when Black Maria engine''s spark and exploded. I only have this compass, which now I''m starting to believe is broken as the needle hasn''t moved for three days no matter where I turned. I don''t want to say we''re lost to cause a panic but....... yeah. We''re lost."


    "...It''s fine... so long as I''m with you."


    "Sorry? Did you say something, Sleipnir? You''re mumbling."


    "Just keep using my body as your crutch. But you can''t take advantage of me?."


    "...Sleipnir."


    "Joke joke...I heard laughter can be a medicine to dull the pain... I guess I need to work on my sense of humor."


    The Canadian Witch bit her lip, hiding the fact she hadn''t slept in the last two nights. Being away from the nearest Allied base or trench, no one was sure if they were behind enemy lines or even close to a neutral zone on this battlefield. They dare not come close to villages, lest they take the chance of Imperial German patrols capturing them. They would often camp at the edge of a quiet farm, either in a stable or under the family oak tree to rest up before walking on.


    Even if they agreed to take turns on watch, the Witch would go overtime and let Raymond Collishaw sleep a little longer. Often times, throughout the entire night. So it would make sense why she had bags under her eyes that struggle to just keep open like a flickering lightbulb.


    "...Ray-Ray. You''re hands are cold... if only I have some strength left in my mana pool, I might be able to use a low setting of Burning Hands to keep you warm."


    "Don''t push yourself, Sleipnir. If I hadn''t figure out that magic is fueled by your life force, I wouldn''t have let you use your spells to cook wild game and eggs every time. If you keep exhausting your energy like that, you might die."


    "... Ah. How romantic to fall into my darling''s arm as I sacrificed myself for my lover''s survival. The tale of a devoting housewife. Oh-ho-ho."


    "Please... don''t joke."


    "Yes, yes, yes. I''m sorry."


    Raymond Collishaw didn''t want to rely on the Canadian Witch anymore as a crutch. As a man, he should be bold and brace against the pain in his broken shin and walk on with just his tree branch as a walking staff. No good, without even an injection of a proper sedative, the lightning bolt like pain would keep stabbing into his nervous system like an ice pick.


    Realizing how useless he was, he decided against struggling with his inner ego. Or else the more he stumbled, he''ll force both the Canadian Witch and himself to go tumbling down the steep hill.


    And into a large field of bright red Poppies that waved at them in silence.


    ¡°So this is the legendary Flander¡¯s Fields.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not exactly legendary. I don''t know if there''s any other folklore behind the origin of these flowers in Belgium.¡±


    ¡°But it was written in that book we found, no? The one that was half buried in mud back in the empty Trench we stumbled into. At first, when you read it to me the content made no sense... but now that I''ve seen such a field, I am beginning to piece the puzzles the author has left behind for us..."


    "Hmm. Regardless if I a Pilot, I have too many friends in both the Royal Navy and in the Trenches who have been through h*ll... Often times, they don''t get to come back so conveniently for another drink at... I miss them, every now and then."


    "These Poppies are beautiful in their own haunting way... so much, that it hurts my heart every time I look... yet I can''t help but feel a sense of hope for the future that these flowers will bring to us."


    ¡°Like his book said: each and every one of these Poppieshas a soldier buried under them. Their blood fills the earth, feeds the soil, and their heartsgrow into the core ofthese flowers in the field of Flanders. I heard, they used to be white before the First Great War began."


    "If that fact was true, Ray-Ray, then even a magician like myself would dread about how many souls would it be necessary to change the natural chroma of a plant like this into such a vivid crimson... the numbers frighten me."


    The Canadian Witch and the Canadian Pilot watched over the Poppy fields. The flowers swayed quietly to the breeze of the winter, their stems and leaves already forming a thin cover of frost from the mildew. And they watched over them, like parents over their child playing in the gardens.


    Unable to continue on their path, they decided to stop for a short. They had been walking for the past five days almost non-stop, marching for hours down roads, undiscovered paths, and routes that steered clear from possible German detection. To take a break, was necessary or else the muscle fiber in their legs would snap.


    Raymond Collishaw bit his lip as he put the tree branch to his side. The dull pain in his shoulder hurt, it was hard to lift any higher than his collar bone. Sitting down next to him was the Canadian Witch who lost part of her skirt. Rather, she didn''t sit, she just up and plopped down next to him. Her legs had passed out in the last minute, making them cramp across the front and back and in her toes.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The girl endured, only able to swallow her saliva as her own source of fluid intake to reduce the muscle contractions in her legs. As if to hide her pain, she tucked them close to her body, acting like she was on a regular Sunday outing for a picnic... albeit the lip biting.


    ¡°Hey Ray-Ray¡­Do you think us Witches will be remembered? For what we''ve done for the war?¡±


    ¡°What are you saying? Magic or not, you¡¯re soldiers too. Many of your sisters are helping the troops in the trenches, and you¡¯re with me fighting Magicians in the sky. I don''t understand why won''t you receive any recognition for your services?"


    "We Witches and Wizards don''t exist, remember? Not in your modern society. We are merely figments of your imagination that creep under your own shadow, just so we can live a peaceful life pursuing the art of magic without prejudice... We''re kind of like super secret spies. Our nation will deny our existence, so why make a funeral ceremony for those who ''aren''t real''?"


    "But... that wouldn''t be fair.I mean, about one year ago I was attending the funeral service of lads I met during my training on the HMS Niobe. They were all serving the HMHS Britannic when it was torpedoed off the coast of Greece. They received full honors as well as a small memorial engraved with their names... I...I really don''t see why your organization wouldn''t even give you the time of day if you fell in combat, protecting us."


    "Ha-ha. It''s a cruel world, darling. If the Arcana Council and the British Magic Intelligence honestly printed the names of every Witch and Magician who gave up their lives for the British Empire in the local newspapr... people would start to question who we really are, and why there is magically a large number of people that ''exceeded'' the recorded Volunteer roster...It''s only a matter of time before your government uncover our secret, and start a second Global Witch Hunt again."


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡±


    Raymond Collishaw wanted to answer. He had opened his mouth, formed the right words in his mind, and even steeled himself to save what he felt with every raw emotion. It truly was unfair, to be forgotten like a piece of trash. To sacrifice one''s life for the sake of a nation''s future, only to have some jack@ss vandalize their grave or ruin the charity that go into remember them. He knew that was a terrible feeling, to simply be forgotten.


    Yet, no matter how prepared he was... he just couldn''t get the words out. He tried to cut it down, to a bare minimum, to get something spoken, to move the conversation. In the end, he would get one word that would make no sense being said on its own. B@stards. The Canadian Pilot thought about keeping that to himself, until he could come up with a better context.


    "...Besides. It''s not like I''m all for the whole fire three volleys into the sky or anything. I don''t even like being stuffed in a coffin. It''s too cramped.


    ¡°Sleipnir, don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    "It''s fine, Ray-Ray. I really don''t mind. The moment my fellow sisters and I joined the Canadian Witch Corp, our first day was spent understanding that our loses will never be remembered. It will never be recorded. We either live to fight for those who cannot defend themselves with magic, or disappear from the face of the Earth. Ah, how well I remember.290 of us signed up, only 58 stayed after that little lecture. And here I am, a full-fledgedMagician of the Canadian Expeditionary Forces fighting the Kraut Empire from world domination......"


    ".............."


    "...Please don''t feel guilty, darling. You have your own burden to worry in this war as an airplane ace. This, is my burden as a Witch."


    "I understand now. At first, I never really believed in your magic, or your world. But having fought next to you, the way you protect me from German and Austrian-Hungaria Sorcerers, or even Magis of the Ottoman Empire. I truly understand... you''re no different than the lads in the Royal Naval Air Service or the Trenches. You''re fighting along side us, the only difference is that your ammunitions are bolts of fire and scatter of lightning. To be honest, you and your fellow Witch sisters are really amazing."


    "Oh my oh my. Is Ray-Ray praising me. Be cause how you use your honeyed words, my dear. I might just fall for you even more."


    "Witch or not. You can''t let the system end like this. What about your parents? Your two mothers. What do they get? For us, at least they receive a pension on our behalf and a national flag to honor our duty to our country."


    "... They''re Witches too, on a level greater than myself. They know the risk too well. They have been serving the Crown and British Royal Family for many years, it''s in our bloodline to protect the British Empire from collapse and destruction. At least, they will be proud of what I am fighting for in the Western Front."


    "We shouldn''t leave it like this. I may not be a suitable person, but I am willing to speak with your superiors, or council, and advocate for you Witches to received some sort of equality. Even if you''re all girls, you''ve showed as much courage and bravery like any other young man would in the field. Whether it be battling a mage, healing the sick, or even tossing grenads out of dug outs. We need to at least try to--"


    A slender finger reached out, touching Raymond Collishaw¡¯s lips. It was a touch that would silence a savage lion or a frighten lamb. The soothing sensation that would tell you everything was alright now, you have nothing to fear.


    Like that lullaby¡­ Hush little baby don¡¯t you cry, Mama¡¯s going to buy you a diamond ring.


    ¡°Sssssssh¡­.It''s alright, Ray-Ray. I really enjoy this pleasant atmosphere with you. So please, don''t ruin it by dragging in unnecessary politics... alright?"


    "... Yes. I understand."


    "Fu-fu-fu. I have such a cute partner, eh Mr. Ace?"


    "You''ve been improving over the last few months. Who knows, if you really devote your time into becoming a pilot, you''ll become the next Canadian Ace like Billy Bishop."


    "...Pass...Now, be a sweety and give me your arm to hold."


    The Canadian Witch smiled and she coiled her long bruised arms around the Canadian Pilot¡¯s arm. Even with sprained shoulder, she was willingto gnaw on the inside of her cheekto endure the pain, so she could envelop herself in a gentle warmth that she yearned deep inside. As if tired from all the evil from the world, she rested her head across Raymond Collishaw¡¯s shoulder. Her long black hair spilled over them like a weeping willow, her frail and exposed legs covered in cuts drawing int to make her body curl up.


    Like a fetus in a mother''s womb.


    "... Hey. Ray-Ray. If I ever become a Poppy, would you remember this cute little Witch?"


    "Yes. Yes I would."


    "Tee-hee. Don''t ever make a girl a promise, if you know you can''t keep it."


    ¡°I promise I will remember you. Even to my last breath.¡±


    "... Ray-Ray...Could you read it again. That poem in the book you found. I... I want to hear it once more."


    Raymond Collishaw was in pain himself, but he didn¡¯t care. All he could do was slowly move his working arm to pull something out of his jacket pocket across his chest. In his fingers was this leather journal the size of his palm. The skin was so worn out, there were torn holes from prolonged use and rough handling. Not to mention multiple pages covered in both rain and mud stains.


    Its leather skin was well worn, with holes ripped from prolonged use and the corner of the page stained in rain and mud water. There was a single red ribbon clipped in between a section of pages. The Canadian Pilot carefully opened it, to reveal the marked section. There was a series of hand writing, that filled exactly two pages. It looked like something a doctor would scribble when providing a medication to a patient.


    Raymond Collishaw took in a small deep breath... and read the words.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center">In Flanders field the poppies blow


    Between the crosses, row on row,


    That mark our place; and in the sky


    The larks, still bravely singing, fly


    Scarce heard amid guns below.</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center">We are Dead. Short days ago


    We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,


    Loved and were loved, and now we lie


    In Flander''s Fields.</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center">Take up our quarrel with the foe:


    To you from failing hands we throw


    The torch; be yours to hold it high.


    If ye break faith with us who die


    We shall not sleep, though poppies grow


    In Flander''s Fields


    ~~Dr. John McCrae</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    "........Sleipnir?"


    When Raymond Collishaw had completed reciting the poem inside of the tattered journal, he felt an awkward silence hang over him. This wasn''t the same type of dead air his partner and himself would have if the conversation involved magic and science. Neither was it the kind of quiet tone that didn''t want the conversation to run down a dangerous path.


    The Canadian Pilot turned, and found the Canadian Witch slowly drifting to sleep across his shoulder. Either in her final moments of consciousness, or her subconscious surfacing as she dives into a well deserved slumber, she cried with a small faint smile.


    "Promise me...Don''t ever turn into a Poppy...Ray-Ray..."


    "... I''ll do my best, Sleipnir. Sweet dreams."


    <hr>


    ::RAYMOND P. COLLISHAW ::


    Retired from military service at age 33 in 1943 as Air Vice Marshal of the Egypt Air Command in the African Campaign (WW2). Married to Neita Trapp in 1942 England and eventually settled down and passed away in West Vancouver, British Columbia in 1976 (Age 82).


    :: *ID CLASSIFIED* ::


    Codename: SLEIPNIR. 10th Lv. Magician of the Canadian Witch Corp, 5<sup>th</sup> Newfoundland Wands.


    M.I.A. as of August 8, 1918. Last known mission, Battle of Amiens.


    Whereabouts = UNKNOWN.


    <hr>


    ''Please don''t forget us.''


    ~~ Canadian Expeditionary Forces


    Remembrance Day, 2018

 Note from a Canadian Bunny

    Hello everyone, my name is GreenFlame000.


    For those who follow this story, thank you so much for your support, your kind words, and your thoughtful reviews. This BunnyWriter has taken your suggestions to heart and will do her best to improve.


    The whole ''Second Volume'' will continue as Raymond''s Raven (World War 1). It would be easier for everyone to read from as an independant volume. Feel free to leap through time like a beautiful girl and click here (https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/21723/raymonds-raven-world-war-1</a>)The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    To all the writers here on Royal Roads, please do your best and reach for the top of the charts!


    This Bunny Writer is rooting for you! (^x^)v


    ~~GreenFlame!


    P.S. I-if it pleases the masses, y-you may pull on this Bunny Girl''s ears--UGYAAAAAAAH! N-NOT SO ROUGH! N-NOT SO ROUUUUGH!