Work Text:
'To my dear friend, Couriway,
Hi, how've you been? I've been receiving your letters from the Head general, but I haven't found time to write you back. Thank you, by the way, for keeping in touch. I'm sorry that I haven't responded in months, so I guess, here's some updates on how things have been in the Empire.
Right. So how do I start this. I know you're curious about my rankings and well I was promoted to general a few months back. It's nothing special in my opinion. We get to order others around but I'd much rather be a soldier. Not to say I don't want this promotion, it does give me insights to important things ahead of time. I like that. However, not everything about this title is good. I handle a lot of people in the expertise I was assigned to and it just so happens to be most of the youngest of young, rowdy, soldiers. At least my own brother is part of my assigned group, he's become my assistant.
My brother has been adjusting well to this whole soldier thing. Flanke takes after me with his skills. I'm afraid he'll pass me in ranks someday but that won't be until he's at least eighteen. That's to say he's probably the best soldier among his age group and has been getting well acquainted with the other generals. I'm proud of him.
I can't just mention the other generals without talking about them, can I? We were put into the position at the same time, to replace the ones who resigned or passed. Being a general, though with an intimidating title, isn't much of an honor. Sure, soldiers would respect you more, but there were much higher ranks than us. But the others seem to wear the badge with too much honor and power. They act too egotistical. Well, you can argue I have a huge ego too but not like them. Especially that new Head of our general group, it's weird how he immediately has everything planned. I don't get the whole thing, with being proud of this general role.
To be honest, the Empire hasn't been sitting right with me lately. This whole war on the Rebellion doesn't feel... good? What I'm saying is I don't feel like I'm on the right side. Though the Rebellion doesn't sound right either. I don't want to go to the Rebellion. I don't want to uproot the life I've been building here with my brother. And what will everyone think of me as? A traitor? It isn't pleasant to be at the end of the Empire's blade, I would know. I am a part of it.
Enough about me. I've read some of your letters. I'm glad to hear everyone's okay back in the village. I don't know if I was expecting much, but I appreciate the updates, I really do. I would write the others a letter, just tell them to do so to me so I don't feel like I'm talking to a paper. Anyway, I'm pleasantly surprised how well you all adjusted after I left... and Harvey and Fruit too . . . Have you or any of the others been in contact with them? I'm intrigued to hear updates from them from the Rebellion. Especially since I myself can't send them a letter.
If you haven't guessed, I avoid them during war and fights our sides get into, and some other missions we do. I don't want to hurt them, though it is expected of me to. I am a very trusted soldier, but I can't get myself to fight them. Even if the Rebellion has done wrong to us. I just hope they treat them okay, and not like horror stories I've heard from the past generals. It's getting increasingly harder to avoid them now since we gathered some information that someone who looks awfully like Harvey is being considered to a leader role. That means I'll have to face him even more now. And I just don't want to.
. . .Not to get emotional, but I miss being home. This is better for me and my brother, but I miss everyone. It's been too long since I've done a proper visit, and I want to, but I'm going to get busier since the impending war is approaching. It's the second war I'll be involved in. I'm not nervous, but I'm not ecstatic either. If you-'
—
There was a knock on the door and Feinberg hadn't even turned in his chair before it creaked open. Purpled, one of the intern guards, leaned on the doorframe, spinning a key ring with his finger. The two stared at each other in silence before Fein managed to ask, "What?"
Purpled snickered lightly, "What? You're ten minutes late to the generals meeting. Weren't you informed? I came here to get you because none of the generals wanted to." Suddenly Fein was aware of the clock on top of the door, he was very late.
"Ah, right. Sorry." As much as he thought Purpled was annoying, he was glad that he told him. He glanced back at the paper where he had just poured his heart out about his higher position. Fein had always been on time before then anyway, so being tardy wasn't a big deal here, but he didn't actually want to be removed. Fein reasoned, "I'm just finishing up something important."
The younger one cocked his head at him and at his workstation, "You mean sitting around and drawing something?"
"I'm not drawing— I'm writing. And it is important."
"Sure."
"Fuck off."
He laughed again, but put his relaxed fidgeting to a stop. Fein raised an eyebrow when Purpled looked at him again, with seriousness. "Just, get to the meeting room. They're waiting.. And I'll vouch for you if you tell them some stupid excuse."
He scoffed and then nodded at him, "I appreciate it, Purp."
"It's nothing."
The guard left his doorway and Fein turned back to the desk in front of him. A sigh escaped his lips before he crossed the half sentence on the paper and reached for another. His hands shook slightly but he snapped out of his nervous daze to conclude his letter.
—
'I have a lot more in my head, but I'll wait for you to ask more. You'll probably know what I'm thinking, you always do. Just send the next paper soon, alright? Stay safe. And take care, please.
Your dear friend,
Feinberg.'