Fighting the Antareans. There was nothing truly like it, that's for certain.

You found yourself wounded in the midst of yet another large-scale conflict, the heavy field guns ripping out massive shells towards advancing Antarean soldiers. Thankfully, you were carefully tucked into one of the many craters made by explosions during the battle, keeping you out of the way of anymore harm.

A whistle rang out, followed just as quickly by the sounds of multiple men yelling, the familiar sight of men in Aquilan uniforms charging by to engage the approaching threat. One almost ran right by up until he caught a glimpse of you in the crater, stopping on the spot and jumping in with you.

"Wounded?" He spoke the word quickly, moving to crouch beside you to take a look at your present condition, a hand already moving to grasp at the satchel on his waist.