My Dear Sister I must admit dearest Abigail that it is no wonder we have made no headway during this last century. The moral of the camps, vertible towns in their own right, is almost non-existent. I had thought the poor sods stationed through the winter would jump for joy at our arrival. I acknowledge that I felt as though we looked rather resplendent. 15 Battalions, some 15 thousand men supported by 100 Warforged come right off the lines from Leon Munitions. Trailing behind us 500 artillery pieces and several of those Khorazi airships looming above. We veritably shone as we marched into their camp, the rays of sun puncturing the constant miasm that seems to obscure this war torn land. Yet they nairy even looked in our direction never mind jumped for joy. It is repressive how somber the mood is here Abi. The leadership has made a grand show of one final push in the coming summer campaign. Indeed would it not be grand for us to turn the Toppers back across their borders at this the 100th year of the war? A grand endeavor indeed and with such a renewed force at our backs I do not see how we could fail. Still as I look at the troops that greeted us my confidence dwindles. But we have both the faith of the Temple Host and St. Culliar at our backs. The entire federation has committed to stopping the agressions of those Castelian fools They shall pay for their acts against all the sovereign nations of Northern Itdar. Hope is not needed when faith, brilliant leadership, and superior technology are on our side. I must cut my letter short I fear dear sister. Reports have come in from high command that a muster has been set. Those Topper fools are pushing on the Eastern Line with a new host of their own vile machines. Send my love to mother. Behave for the abotess. Sincerely yours. Second Lieutenant Leland Tomlinson Fort Ederton, Rougemont