Letters to the front lines- A collection by Cyanicus

The story of Aerivan and Ophedia

Seventh Day of Thyacles, 3rd year of Strife (dates approximate to 27 years before the Republic)

Dear Aerivan,

I hope the war is going well for the Legion and for Idya. I worry for your safety and I do wish you could come back to feel my tender lips. Things are well enough at home. My father was hired by the Inner Council to lead the construction and maintenance of the weapons workshops while my mother dear is staying home to tend her child. My responsibilities around the house are tending the sheep and pigs in the pen and making the morning and noon meals, while my mother makes the evening supper. I love her mutton stew, which she makes for the family every night. However, I must admit that you were here to sample her cooking with the whole family. My father really liked you and my mother was greatly charmed. Even little Enia accepted you into the family.

I must be babbling on for I am running out of ink. I must get another vial of it right now. I am back, me love and I thought about you when I walked to my father’s cellar. Oh sorry, I forgot that you are reading this. I must be worried with love for you since I see you in front of me when I feed the old sows.

Enough about my affairs, I would like to know you are doing? Please tell me where you are now. So far, I am imagining that you are walking through the marshlands hunting down the ruthless Cinerans. I can’t believe that they would attack Idya though. We did nothing to them yet their plans for conquest blinds them from the love they tear us from. Since I wish to talk to you more, perhaps we could share this short poem together. I wrote this when I was watching Ereal set last night. When you read this, say it out loud, and if you look up into the stars while the sun dips below the horizon, you may see me singing with you.

You are my sunshine, the one who lightens the day,

You are my flower, who catches the morning dew.

You are my sunshine, who makes the sky so blue,

You are my flower, the one who makes me gay.


Whenever I wake while the sky is new,

I know that I’ll always be with you.

When I look at the stars and hope, that my love

We’ll be forever, like the joining of the doves.

My love to yours, Ophedia



Twelth day of Invex, 3rd year of Strife

To my only true love, Ophedia

Your letter was lovely and I am writing back to you. When I first got the letter from my friend Jormidia, I was ecstatic that you would write to me. That night, I read the poem at the stars and I heard your sweet, Finch’s voice resonating throughout the heavens, like a goddess’ song.

However, I feel that I should write about what I’ve been doing out here. The war against the Cinerans is going wonderfully. We crushed the Cinerans at the northern bridge and we captured the Cineran village of Ruenis. I’m currently sitting in my quarters writing this letter with whatever things I have. I must regret that my commander gave me little ink and I must end this letter shortly.

I killed a Cinner today, although I take no joy in the slaughter of others. When the soldier was implaled with the tip of my blade, I knew that he was only defending his homeland, like that of us he had a family and loved ones as well. Enclosed with this letter is the charm I wear with me always. I wish you to keep it because it will look splendid on you when our wedding day comes after this war and because the blood from the battle would only tarnish its pure innocence, the ruby that adorns the charm. I can only hope that you wear it by your heart always as a reminder of my eternal love for you.

Sadly, I am a terrible writer and an even worse poet, so I will not torment you with my rhyme. Therefore, I will write you this lullaby that my mother sang to me when I was little to put you at rest.


When the sky is at rest and Ereal sleeps,

I only wonder what is in our dreams,

Is it sunshine, or is it flowers,

Is it the warm, tender smile of your mother?


Could it be the tranquil flapping?

Of gentle lark whom sees us sleeping?

When the fireflies dance through the night,

Shedding its peaceful blue light


My fears go away,

As the willows do sway

Like your gentle, light breath

Which as well puts me at rest.


When the fireflies dance through the night,

Shedding its peaceful blue light

My fears go away,

As the willows do sway.


With concern, your dearest Aerivan


Twenty-sixth day of Invex, 3rd year of Strife

My dearest Aerivan,

I received the terrible news from Legate Draxis. I can’t believe it, you broke your hip because of a cursed Cineran. When I heard of your injury, I wanted to kill myself. But when I thought of being with you, my spirits lifted and I dropped my grandfather’s old Idyan war dagger. I hear that you will never be able to walk again, other than using crutches. I know what you are going through, and I know how depressed you must feel to be injured so. However, if it is any comfort to you, I will help you through every step of the way, and if that doesn’t make your eyes light up, remember that I still have the necklace you gave me and I look forward to the day we wed. Once you are sent back into my waiting arms, we will live in our own house, and have a wonderful family. My parents are also anxious to see your face again and anxious to see us together, bonded by the head priest of Ereal like the bonding of the sun and the rock that we now grow from and are nourished by.

From Ophedia, Our love will live through the ages.


Second day of the Festival, 4th year of Strife

To my dearest Ophedia,

I too feel anxiousness towards our joining. It will be a glorious day in the heavens when our two souls merge as Ereal did when he did so with the rock. My commander will legally discharge me after a few more days in the hospice. The healers managed to set my hip bone back slightly, enough for me to limp uneasily with a crutch, and my pain is gone whenever I move my leg. I was fortunate to give my necklace to you before my blood ruined it.

By the way, I managed to earn enough praise during my services to Idya to actually be granted a small home on the edge of the city. The Legate was kind enough to compliment me on my valiant effort in the battle to the inner council so they rewarded me. He also knew that I was going to wed you after the war anyway.

I look forward to return home and sample your mother’s cooking as I have heard high praise of it in your letter. I also look forward to your gentle and beautiful face again, as it is a relief for the sore eyes that have witnessed way too much battle.

Dear love, I believe I cannot stop writing about you. My quill flows like the great river unendingly. However, although my hand is ceaselessly writing, my mind is as blank as a schoolboy’s slate. I will finish this letter off with a short ballad that we shall sing together in at the stars, like the poem you wrote me.

When the wind blows, my heart will flow

Flow with your gentle soul.


I see you there, upon a stone

Waiting, waiting for me


When the wind blows, my heart will flow

Flow as your free soul


You wave at me, and I wave back

As two lost friends reunited.

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