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Description
Atillya Military Infirmary was founded in 1887. It was a field infirmary that utilized the sulfuric spring waters of the nearby river Eux to disinfect wounds and clean rags and was under the Administration of the Cardinals. The military hospital ended along with the war, but was re-founded in 1942 as Zubarystical Psychiatric Institute under the new head Dr. Charles Coxbine and the White Professors. Its sudden shift from hospital to research facility has its details in the First and Second Etu Ibindar War.

A man named Mr. Melchor de Vega, who is the current archivist of Altillya Psychiatric Institute, has seen it all and has recorded everything he has seen: every cannonball that has ever nearly missed the Institute’s masonry, every “forced euthanasia” that has every taken place, and had received his payroll from both the Cardinals and Dr. Coxbine. The man himself was the Institute and wrote it all down in secret, in an old metal filing cabinet, under the folder name “Records of the Deceased”
--
This entry was taken down on August 4, 1992, towards the end of the First Etu War. Young Melchor was a field medic promoted to arsenal officer stationed to operate a bombard in the Guyes Line to defend the now borders of Aoult:

“The great winding river Eux would sizzle ferociously like boiling water whenever a misguided cannonball or charge shot landed in the water. To prevent the water from being disinfected, the medics would have to go further upstream to collect the fresh astringent water they so prized.

This miracle water was without its drawbacks. Upon being applied to an opened wound, one soldier described it as, and I quote: “(it) burned like the sun…” It had a higher acidity than the hydrogen peroxide the doctor’s where carrying and its only legal use outside of medicine was to melt the slag off the foundry...”

And to this day, the river remains sulfuric. One could do two things when visiting the river Eux: you could fish out old war memorabilia coated in yellow sulfur slime or jump off the Institute Bridge and drown in the burning water.
--
This was an entry that was written 2 years after the war, when Melchor got a job as a library assistant.

“After the war, the Reverend Vicar called in all Cardinals in administration to help rebuild the Basilical Abbey, which was damaged after the war. The Infirmary was abandoned and for a year and a half, I have been unemployed. I budget my leftover salary miserly; eating only the cheapest hardtack which would be occasionally be supplemented by the driest and oldest salted pork. It was like biting through two slabs of cinnabar.

Then, the second war came. I enlisted immediately for the rations and fresh uniforms. I was sent to operate the Guyes Line again, this time with new bombards and cannons. I fought for two years until the war suddenly ended. I saw my trench partner’s attention suddenly lull as the days went by. I asked what was the matter, he would only answer, if not at all, in grunts and sounds.

I can say that in that entire war, I had not fired a shot. I hadn’t even looked past the trench wall. God must have a special providence for me, for I had not been jabbed or mercilessly beaten by the countless enemy soldiers that had broken through our defenses. I am sure of it! For one fateful day, when I woke up, I had found everyone in my trench had been shot, stabbed and killed as they slept.

Then the war finally ended. Those who survived wandered around aimlessly with their heads and necks to the sky. It was like this for almost fifty years. The soldiers I knew died before me in such odd ways. I was 64 then.

Then all of a sudden, doctors in sharp white coats and vest rolled into the town and rebuilt the old infirmary. I watched for two weeks until they finally put up the struck sheet metal sign that read Altillya Psychiatric Institute.
They started wrangling up the old shifters and crazies, and I made myself presentable; I carried myself in a way that distinguished me from my former comrades as not to get caught up with them. I applied for a job, any they could offer. One old man just handed me books to arrange, and that’s when I started my tenure.

It was pathetic work for pathetic pay, but money was money, and back then; the war left Etu Gumade in shambles. People would just straight up kick the bucket and die before starvation or disease could get to them first. The magistrates and court officials took off with all the money they could pocket from the treasury, the remaining abbeys where destroyed and the holy men and women slaughtered by the invading horde as the whole town was left to rot in poverty and sickness. It was the first time ever, in this once holy and sacred basilica, that it seemed god had abandoned us for good…

But I was able to trudge through the filth. Before my job as an assistant, a man in a white coat gave thirty leopi and a hat to wrangle up as many ‘shifters’ as I could get. Through that work I was able to buy some more palatable foods, and this time, it was cold leftover buns and cheap imitation ham. I was also able to pay lodging, a three hundred square feet apartment, adjoined to the archive building. So compared to everyone else then, I was a very rich man… ”
--
But then the war came, I abandoned my post on the first sight of it. The others turned mad, for they were too foolish to think they could stand a chance against it. I ran, I ran as fast as I can; wherever I may end up.

Description
Atillya Military Infirmary was founded in 1887. It was a field infirmary that utilized the sulfuric spring waters of the nearby river Eux to disinfect wounds and clean rags and was under the Administration of the Cardinals. The military hospital ended along with the war, but was re-founded in 1942 as Zubarystical Psychiatric Institute under the new head Dr. Charles Coxbine and the White Professors. Its sudden shift from hospital to research facility has its details in the First and Second Etu Ibindar War.

A man named Mr. Melchor de Vega, who is the current archivist of Altillya Psychiatric Institute, has seen it all and has recorded everything he has seen: every cannonball that has ever nearly missed the Institute’s masonry, every “forced euthanasia” that has every taken place, and had received his payroll from both the Cardinals and Dr. Coxbine. The man himself was the Institute and wrote it all down in secret, in an old metal filing cabinet, under the folder name “Records of the Deceased”
--
This entry was taken down on August 4, 1992, towards the end of the First Etu War. Young Melchor was a field medic promoted to arsenal officer stationed to operate a bombard in the Guyes Line to defend the now borders of Aoult:

“The great winding river Eux would sizzle ferociously like boiling water whenever a misguided cannonball or charge shot landed in the water. To prevent the water from being disinfected, the medics would have to go further upstream to collect the fresh astringent water they so prized.

This miracle water was without its drawbacks. Upon being applied to an opened wound, one soldier described it as, and I quote: “(it) burned like the sun…” It had a higher acidity than the hydrogen peroxide the doctor’s where carrying and its only legal use outside of medicine was to melt the slag off the foundry...”

And to this day, the river remains sulfuric. One could do two things when visiting the river Eux: you could fish out old war memorabilia coated in yellow sulfur slime or jump off the Institute Bridge and drown in the burning water.
--
This was an entry that was written 2 years after the war, when Melchor got a job as a library assistant.

“After the war, the Reverend Vicar called in all Cardinals in administration to help rebuild the Basilical Abbey, which was damaged after the war. The Infirmary was abandoned and for a year and a half, I have been unemployed. I budget my leftover salary miserly; eating only the cheapest hardtack which would be occasionally be supplemented by the driest and oldest salted pork. It was like biting through two slabs of cinnabar.

Then, the second war came. I enlisted immediately for the rations and fresh uniforms. I was sent to operate the Guyes Line again, this time with new bombards and cannons. I fought for two years until the war suddenly ended. I saw my trench partner’s attention suddenly lull as the days went by. I asked what was the matter, he would only answer, if not at all, in grunts and sounds.

I can say that in that entire war, I had not fired a shot. I hadn’t even looked past the trench wall. God must have a special providence for me, for I had not been jabbed or mercilessly beaten by the countless enemy soldiers that had broken through our defenses. I am sure of it! For one fateful day, when I woke up, I had found everyone in my trench had been shot, stabbed and killed as they slept.

Then the war finally ended. Those who survived wandered around aimlessly with their heads and necks to the sky. It was like this for almost fifty years. The soldiers I knew died before me in such odd ways. I was 64 then.

Then all of a sudden, doctors in sharp white coats and vest rolled into the town and rebuilt the old infirmary. I watched for two weeks until they finally put up the struck sheet metal sign that read Altillya Psychiatric Institute.
They started wrangling up the old shifters and crazies, and I made myself presentable; I carried myself in a way that distinguished me from my former comrades as not to get caught up with them. I applied for a job, any they could offer. One old man just handed me books to arrange, and that’s when I started my tenure.

It was pathetic work for pathetic pay, but money was money, and back then; the war left Etu Gumade in shambles. People would just straight up kick the bucket and die before starvation or disease could get to them first. The magistrates and court officials took off with all the money they could pocket from the treasury, the remaining abbeys where destroyed and the holy men and women slaughtered by the invading horde as the whole town was left to rot in poverty and sickness. It was the first time ever, in this once holy and sacred basilica, that it seemed god had abandoned us for good…

But I was able to trudge through the filth. Before my job as an assistant, a man in a white coat gave thirty leopi and a hat to wrangle up as many ‘shifters’ as I could get. Through that work I was able to buy some more palatable foods, and this time, it was cold leftover buns and cheap imitation ham. I was also able to pay lodging, a three hundred square feet apartment, adjoined to the archive building. So compared to everyone else then, I was a very rich man… ”
--
But then the war came, I abandoned my post on the first sight of it. The others turned mad, for they were too foolish to think they could stand a chance against it. I ran, I ran as fast as I can; wherever I may end up.