Chapter Sixteen: Banners of Our Brothers
July 14th, 1275
La Valette Castle, Temeria, Empire of Nilfgaard
To His Nobility the Grand Duke of Temeria Joseph var Attre,
It pains me to write this message to you. I seek only to keep the glories of our Nilfgaardian brothers and sisters whole, and I am greatly saddened to see how little you seem to care in that goal. Make no mistake, I ordered the assault over the Pontar at Rinde that shattered your forces. I am indeed the one who ordered Baroness La Valette to stand her soldiers down when you attempted to levy them a week ago. While I am saddened at the loss of wholesome Nilfgaardian brethren, I will not allow such insolence to stand.
But I tire for your upstart rebellion. There are more pressing problems for me to worry about. I am certain you are aware that two undefeated Koviri armies remain north of the Rogge only because they seek to strike us when we are weakest. If you believe you have the expertise to defeat the commanders who could slay our beloved Emperor, you are terribly, terribly mistaken.
I send you this message now, as my forces prepare to siege Vizima and end your rebellion. Make no mistake, I have no desire to hurt my fellow countrymen. But I will not let this insurrection continue. Nilfgaard must be united if it is to stand a chance against the enemy. Surrender your claim to the throne, and I will allow you to retain most of your privileges as duke. As a var Attre, you must understand how important it is to give for your country. I only ask you to sacrifice now to save the realm you love.
Forever loyal and vigilant,
General Morvran Voorhis, the Rightful Emperor of Nilfgaard
With that, Voorhis put down his pen, and looked over his message one last time. He was fairly certain the Duke would not relent; the man was too headstrong for his own good, and didn't know when it was time to give up.
What little remained of the Temeria divisions had scattered; their morale was low and they had little faith in their commander. Nearly two thousand men formerly a part of the Temerian legions had fled over the Pontar to join Voorhis. Barely a thousand men held Vizima, and Voorhis was a master of siege warfare. The assault would be no problem whatsoever.
The real issue lied with coming down south of the Pontar. He knew the Koviri forces wouldn't hesitate to strike south if they knew Voorhis wasn't defending Tretogor; he was the main reason they had stayed north for now.
Voorhis knew it would be impossible to recover from this war. They would never restore Redania, and frankly, he could accept that. The land was more hassle then it was worth. Aedirn was different, however. The loss of Aedirn could mean the loss of Lyria and Temeria, which he was never going to allow as long as he lived.
He got up and looked out a window from his room in the tower of the castle. From afar, it was almost like he could see the hills that marked the gateway to Vizima.
One way or another, Vizima will be mine.
One week later…
July 21st, 1275
Vizima, Temeria, Empire of Nilfgaard
Army Camp outside city
Voorhis rapped his knuckles against his desk in his camp. The beat of rally drums had been beating since early morning, and he was beginning to wonder whether or not the duke would answer his summons.
They both knew what a refusal of the peace offering meant. Voorhis was certain the man had seen the catapults and trebuchets armed and readied. They simply awaited orders from their commander.
Voorhis knew Vizima very well; he had been there routinely in years past, and was responsible for taking it during the last great war of expansion. Var Attre had no doubt repaired the damages, but that did not mean he could completely redesign the city.
No, the siege would be quick and brutal. The people of Vizima would be taught what it would mean to go against the rightful heir of the Nilfgaardian throne, and Voorhis would be able to focus on the much more dangerous threat of Kovir.
At least, that was the plan.
"General Voorhis." With that, Voorhis looked up from his desk. His chamberlain had opened his tent to reveal Duke Var Attre, being escorted by several of his own guards.
"Thank you for bringing them in, Bruno. You are free to leave." With that, the chamberlain exited the tent. Var Attre's guards took spots directly opposite the general's guards, and the duke himself sat down right in front of Voorhis.
He looked quite shaken up. It was clear to Voorhis that the duke had not realized how powerful and intimidating Nilfgaardian engines of war could look when kept in the right hands. His dark blue and black uniform, clearly based on his standard noble attire based on the Temerian lilies, was slightly damaged and crooked. His boots were caked in mud. He had seen better days.
"I must say Duke var Attre, I admired your courage. Most would not dare to do as you have done, raise your banners and fight for your country. Ten thousand black suns, a mixture of every Northern regiment and many Southern ones." With that, Voorhis looked down to the map in front of them, showing the most recent battles and sieges, outlining the present situation in the Northern Kingdoms.
"But courage means nothing without direction. You learned this, or at least I would have hoped you would, time and time again, as well trained and well led Koviri and Kaedweni forces broke your banners at battle after battle after battle. Not only did you lose Aedirn, but your cowardly retreat from the kingdom means Lyria is exposed, a situation the Nordlings are already taking advantage of." With that, the duke's eyes went wide. Voorhis chuckled as he tossed the man the message.
It was a report from the commander of the garrison at Rivia. The Nordlings were camping at the Lyrian Crossroads, the point where the paths to Aldersberg, Rivia, Scala, and Lyria all met.
"That message was sent several days ago. We haven't heard anything since."
The Duke stuttered, surprised. "But…I ordered Findabair to strike the Nordlings if they moved from Aldersberg! That two facing elven bitch!"
To that, Voorhis smirked. "You honestly believed that the elves would side with us, when it is significantly better for them to stay neutral? They believe the war is lost, and being on the losing side would only undo all of the work Findabair has put into Dol Blathanna."
The duke looked at Voorhis directly in the eye. "And what about you, general? Do you believe the war is lost?"
Voorhis glared back. He knew exactly what kind of game the duke was trying to play, and his refusal to take seriously this important matter was only one more reason for him to do as the witcher had suggested…
Stop it. Get both of them out of your head. They are like bees, buzzing around your head, attempting to draw you away. Don't let them get to you.
The general cleared his throat as he responded. "I won't lie to you, most of the land lost is unsalvageable. Unless by some miracle the Redanians rebel against their new Koviri rulers, we will never retake all of Redania. The same goes for Aedirn. I've veteraned to many campaigns to know how this will turn out duke. The war can only be stopped if Kovir believes further invasions will not go as easily as this has so far."
"Why on earth would they believe that?"
"Unlike Nilfgaard, Kovir is limited in manpower. Or at least that was the case. We are at a lull in our strength, but even then we could match them on the field in numbers. Kovir cannot push farther than the Pontar; they won't manage it and we won't let them. There is simply no way for them to occupy that large of an area and continue to succeed the way they have."
"So what's your solution, general? Surrender? Concede the greatest loss in Nilfgaardian history in decades?"
"No, Duke var Attre. I will save this realm with a united front. Whether or not you are a part of that is frankly up to you."
Six weeks earlier…
June 1st, 1275
Northern Bank of the Buine, West of Blaviken
Redania, Empire of Nilfgaard
Koviri Scout Camp
The night had just fallen. The trees rustled in the wind. Several of the scouts decided to head off for sleep as the remainder took watch. It seemed relatively peaceful. As far as they could tell, the Nilfgaardian forces were several leagues south, and were not an immediate threat.
By all the gods they were wrong.
The raiders hit hard, killing the guards in a few strikes, and taking the entire camp prisoner. They began searching through the camp to find any valuable information that they could either take back or destroy right then and there.
Behind the camp, on a small hill, lied a tree. The view of said tree from the camp was hidden by the darkness of night, but from there, one could see everyone and everything in the camp.
It's exactly what one would want if they were preparing to strike the camp.
The rustling of the wind, mixed with the shouts of the Nilfgaardian soldiers and the screams of tortured scouts, hid the sound of a sword being drawn next to the tree, followed shortly thereafter by the sound of some sort of magical charm being cast.
Come on…move a little bit more…
One of the guards closest to the tree, on the outside of the camp, fell to his knees with a clearly audible thud. Several of the Nilfgaardian soldiers turned to see a bolt lodged deep in his neck, the tip having pierced through the other side's skin. They all drew their weapons, bracing for a strike. The commander ordered the men to spread out, and as they did, silence fell upon the camp. They scanned the hills to see nothing around them.
The next thing they knew, everything went dark. A smoke bomb had gone off, and they were all disoriented.
The commander's head swung side to side, desperately trying to make sense of his surroundings and find where the bomb had come from. Before he could shout an order at his men, however, he felt everything go cold. He was dead before he hit the ground.
The soldier right in front of him felt a spray of liquid against his back. He turned quickly, his sword readied. The last thing he saw was a flash of metal. His head came right off, flying into the night sky.
One of the soldiers managed to make his way out of the smoke cloud, desperately gasping for clean air, when he heard a thud right next to him. He turned to see one of his comrades' heads. He shrieked and fell over, falling directly into a rock. The concussion blurred his vision temporarily, and he couldn't hear or see properly as he shook, his knees on the ground, his sword somewhere too far away.
As his vision was restored, he blinked to see a man in front of him. He only got a moment to see the man as the blade came down, but he was able to make out one small detail; the griffin medallion on his neck.
Damien cleaved the man in half from his shoulder in; the body made a disgusting sound as it fell apart without bone or muscle to keep it together. The smoke had cleared, and four Nilfgaardians remained. They were standing in a diamond shape, with the two on the right and left sides holding large tower shields with the Nilfgaardian sun on them.
A smile appeared on Damien's lips, as he twirled his sword into a stance he felt comfortable with. He started pacing slightly, the soldiers watching his every step. It's what made it even better when Damien blasted the front man to the floor with a quick twirl of his hand.
As the front man hit the floor, Damien rolled closer, stabbing the man in the leg, before blocking a strike from the soldier to his right. He then moved back, repeatedly dodging close strikes before he managed to roll behind one of the shield men and strike him in the back, slashing him down his spine. The man fell over, giving Damien the space he needed.
He was like lightning, bouncing back and forth between the soldiers, blocking and dodging and countering strikes with great ease. He finished two more of them like this, leaving only one soldier, who didn't even have a shield and was wielding his sword with only one hand. Damien smirked, expecting this to end very quickly.
He rushed forward, coming down a strong strike, only he had been expecting the man to counter, and he didn't; as a result, Damien was thrown off balance and stumbled slightly. The soldier took this opportunity to move closer to Damien, which further threw off the witcher.
The hell is he doing? What the soldier was doing became obvious to Damien very shortly. Unfortunately, it was too late.
The soldier had saved a grapeshot bomb to the end, and rushed against the witcher, pressing the bomb against his chest as he set it off.
The soldier erupted, a frenzy of red and white and a vast array of colors, his organs flying everywhere, with pieces of chainmail stuck between them.
Damien's Quen sign had absorbed some of the damage, allowing him to stay in one piece, but he was lodged with shrapnel and fell to the floor in searing pain. The few remaining Koviri scouts came out from hiding and rushed to his side and brought him to the camp, hoping he could recover.
As they carried him off, he struggled to keep track of time. He couldn't open his mouth, or even breathe properly. His vision was blurred, and his every body part felt like it was being stabbed repeatedly. He lapsed in and out of consciousness, both on the way to the camp and at the medical tent.
As this was going on, he had no idea what was going on around him. He could hear movement and voices every once in a while, but with no detail and no clarity. But he could have sworn, as the night went on, that someone was sitting by his side, watching him.
Someone with hair red like fire.
End of Chapter Sixteen
Author's Note: I really want to apologize for taking so much longer on these last two chapters, especially considering they are shorter than normal. College has been sucking up most of my time as of late, and getting adjusted took more time than I thought. I'm in a rhythm where I can write again, however, so don't worry, the story will be finished. I've also been having issues figuring it how I want the ending to be accomplished, so planning that out has taken some time. All in all, thank you to everyone who has been reading until now. I'm not going to give up, the ending will make sense with everything I've written, and everyone will get drabble at the end.
Updated list of references: Guns of August, Dragon Age: Origins, Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Sun Also Rises, All Quiet on the Western Front, Harry Potter, Flags of Our Fathers