Raymond's Raven

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 gunpowder 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—"

"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.