“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 – 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.”

“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 the American 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—Ray-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.