Clash of Rhyfles: Coftyran BIG Sandwich!

Giant sandwich!

Painted by @varundin28

Maewyn's Walk

Every Vaek, whatever else was happening, Maewyn appeared somewhere along the line with sandwiches. Not fancy ones, but whatever the supply situation allowed, which in Coftyr in the autumn of 1782 meant bread that was going stale and whatever filling could be argued out of the quartermaster. The sandwiches were not the point. The Walk was the point.

He'd been doing it since before most of the current regiment had arrived. The rhyflers who'd been there longest said he'd never missed a Vaek, not even during the three weeks when resupply stopped entirely and everyone was eating cold rations and trying not to think about it. Those weeks the sandwiches had been mostly bread, dry enough to be unpleasant, but they'd arrived on Vaek and that was what mattered. 

The regiment had developed their own rituals around the Walk. Whoever was on watch kept one eye on the communication trench from mid-afternoon. The word went around without anyone being asked to pass it. Rhyflers who'd been short with each other all week managed to be civil by the time Maewyn arrived. He would hand slices out without ceremony and be gone before anyone thought to thank him properly.

Everyone understood that the Walk wasn't really about food. It was about the fact that every Vaek, without fail, someone had thought about them enough to make the trip. In a war that spent considerable effort making rhyflers feel like replaceable parts in a machine that didn't notice them, Maewyn's Walk was proof that someone did. The sandwiches were bad and the bread was stale and nobody pretended otherwise. They ate every last one.