“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."

"More like mathematical interference."

"I'M HURT!"

The Canadian Witch was a beautiful woman who would wear 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?”

“[email protected] 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 raising alpaca on Bell Island, Nova Scotia as 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 hear that. 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 to put 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—EEEP!”

“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 against such 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 of manual 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 TRIPLANE WAIFU 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.