Peacetime

On November 27, 2645 in the Strange Riel Calendar, the World War finally ended with the surrender of Belka. Twenty-three years. The war lasted for twenty-three years. For twenty-three years, draft orders came round after round, lists filled page after page; front lines advanced and retreated; cities were bombed, repaired, and bombed again; borders were drawn, erased, and redrawn. The train drove to the front line day and night, and then returned to the front line one day. The situation in the newspapers changes every day, but there is no end. People got used to air raid sirens, got used to curfews, got used to rationing, got used to living next to the ruins. They learned not to count the dead, not to look at the complete list, not to remember too many names. They learned to wait, to endure, and to continue living before it was over. Almost two entire generations were sent to war. Some died on the front line, some died during the retreat, and some died from bombing, famine, disease, and cold. Many more people survived, but never returned to the way they were before the war began. Later, people called that period "Judgment Day", as if only myth could accommodate such a long and systematic torture. When news of peace came, few cheered. Some people were silent, and some were in a daze. They just realized that all this could finally stop. As a result, the world repeatedly said the same sentence: We want to build an era of peace. And in that era, there was no place for war.