Wake up. Eat breakfast. Go shower. Dress up. Ignore the thumping noises outside. Work until sundown. Sleep. Rinse and repeat.

Such is my life, until today at least.

Whoever gets this letter, I hope you will read my story.

My name is Johannes Sevilla. I am, I was, a professor who worked at EPITECH before the war. My life back then was a happy one, certainly happier than what my life is today. I have, I had, a wife named Juno, and three children, Nicholaas, Anna and little Francois. We lived a comfortable life, having no real permanent address, me and my family being dragged all over Europe by my research, guest speakings and whatnot.

Until they came along. That b*stard Aleksander and his beastly, dastardly men.

When the war started, we were in Gotland, Sweden for a short vacation. Then, we heard from several news stations that Germany was being attacked by the Russians. We tried to escape, but with all of the chaos happening, it seemed impossible for us to get even to the airport safely. Chaos was everywhere; people killing people, the police being overpowered by shoddily-clad civilians, and the horror of seeing the shells land on houses with people inside. Oh God, the agony! Before we knew it, Russian hovercrafts were already in sight of the island. I searched far and long for a place to get my family safe, but I could find none. The island was quickly besieged by Russian forces, but somehow, we managed to escape; an old fisherman was making hourly rides to and fro from the island to the mainland, rescuing civilians and sneaking in ECA military forces. When I rode his large, rickety fishing boat, I could help but remember that calm, determined look on his face. I was moved beyond all emotions. From there, I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to help defeat these animals who brought about death in this peaceful country. When I got to the mainland, I applied to join the military as a voluntary serviceman. It was a hard decision, leaving my family behind like that. But Juno understood. Her father was a UN peacekeeper, and she knew that the price of peace is war. She promised me that she would take care of the children, take care of herself. She said that when the war is all over, we would meet again in EPITECH, at that roving ice cream truck that I and the children all so loved.

Oh, how did I not know how deceptively assuring were those words?