Chapter 6: Battle of the Marnadal Stair

POV Calanthe, 1263

Calanthe was going over the spring yields in her office when a knock sounded from her door, "Enter." she commanded and in walked a younger man. Without her looking up, she motioned for him to speak, "A message came from our men in the empire, your grace.". This quickly got her attention, her eyes snapping up to look at the young messenger and her hand reaching out.

Slightly frightened by her reaction, he gave her the parchment with a trembling hand. Once she took from him, she dismissed the messenger and quickly unrolled it. Revealing some troublesome information, 'Nilfgaard will invade in July'.

Shit, it's March.

_one week later_

She had finally finished all the paperwork: ordering supplies, gathering her men, mapping supply line, writing to the lords to do the same then meet her men at the Marnadal Stairs or Cintra.

None of these things have actually happened yet, but she got the horrid paperwork over with. Now though, now she has to somehow convince her granddaughter, and her silent supporter, that they were far too young to be joining in.

Mere moments after her announcement was sent out from her study and to all her lands, the city included, Ciri burst into the room. Jon right behind her, as per usual. "I want to-"

"No."

"But I-"

"No."

"Jon can-"

"No."

"And Gwyn-"

"No."

Ciri, pouting at her 'unfairness', turned to Jon. So, that he can try to convince Calanthe, like he typically can. Jon bravely stepped and stretched himself to his full height of four feet eight inches, tall for his age. His grey eyes looked into her sea green, showing his resolve. They stared at each other, then Jon took a deep breath, opened his mouth and finally said "We understand.". Surprising both lions, then after a second or two passed Ciri yelled, "What! Traitor!".

He turned to her saying, "Ciri, we are eleven years old."

"Almost twelve!"

Ignoring her, he continued "Grandmother fought her first battle at fifteen, we can wait till then."

"We're strong enough now and you can use Gwyn to scout!"

"Yes, we are. For our age, if we go grandmother will be too worried about us to actually concentrate on the battles. You are right about Gwyn though, he would bring a great advantage. When invading, but we are the defending army. All we have to do, is pick the right spot, build fortifications and wait. No scouting needed, only lookouts."

Calanthe had to admit, that was well thought out and more importantly, it seemed to convince Ciri. To lessen the blow, Calanthe had made plans to keep the children busy, but it seems it was unnecessary. Well, she'll tell them anyway. What harm could it do?

"You won't be doing nothing while I am away." she said, making the children's heads quickly turn to her simultaneously. She first looked to Ciri and told her "While I'm preparing for the war, your stately lessons will be put aside until it ends. So, that you can focus on more martial lessons. Like the axe and mace in combination with a shield. Along with horsemanship."

"Bu-"

"Cirilla."

"Yes grandmother."

Then she turned her head to Jon, "Do you remember what Mousesack said when he taught his first lesson?"

"Yes grandmother."

Thank the gods, no explanations. "Good, you and Mousesack will train your other magic."

"Yes grandmother." And no unnecessary arguments.

"Then you are both dismissed."

POV Jon

That went better than expected.

He managed to surprise Ciri enough to put her off balance and quickly convince her to not somehow sneak off to join grandmother on the war front, forcing him to use Gwyn to follow her. Though it seemed she already planned for that, bribing the two of them with magic and weapons training respectively, but Jon still doesn't know why they won't let Ciri join him and Mousesack in their lessons. He had theories, but none made sense.

POV Neutral

The next two months were hectic for everyone; Calanthe was organizing the arms, armour, tools, supplies, horses and every other little thing so that everything went perfectly for when she arrived at the Marnadal Stairs: Mousesack was putting Jon's nose to the magical grindstone, having him meditate in an enchanted tub of ice water for hours at a time, reading book after book on thermodynamics and how they react with his body when using temperature-based magic, how different materials react to sudden drops in temperature, the different structures water can form when frozen and their strengths and weaknesses: Ciri went to bed every night with dead muscles from axe training, sword training, repeated shield bashing, horsemanship, being covered in weights and running everywhere: Gwyn had fun flying around killing things, sometimes with his father it control.

When the first month passed, the first wave of soldiers reached the pass. These soldiers were from all the lands south of Attre.

Once the first soldiers arrived, they quickly set up camp and started construction on the fortifications. They chose an ideal spot for it, the narrowest point with the shortest, but steepest cliffs. Only one hundred feet, side to side.

They made three teams for, logging, digging and piling. The digging team would dig three trenches from one cliff face to the other, each one separated by about ten feet and each one three feet deep. The piling team would take the dug-up dirt from the digging team and use it to form an earthen mound, cliff to cliff, where the Nazair facing side would be steep and the Cintra side would be a gentle slope. It would be about four feet at its tallest. The logging team would cut down as many trees as they can on the Nazair side of their fortifications to be used to build a stockade and carve stakes for the trenches. This also had the benefit of keeping wood from the nilfgaardians, no fires or ladders for them.

Once all the digging and piling was done, those teams would come together and form the construction team. The construction team would first use the smaller trees to carve stakes to line the trenches. When that task was done, they would start building the stockade. The stockade would be built on top of the girt mound, adding three feet to its height.

The first wave army started construction on the fifth day of the second week of April, it finished on the fourth day of the third week of June.

A week later, the queen arrived with the rest of their army. Bringing their total numbers to a little more than 10 000.

POV Valerd, 13th of July

Today's the day. The lookout had come running back yesterday, telling them that Nilfgaard was only a day away.

Valerd was the commander of the archer division, he and his three hundred had arrived nine days ago with the queen. His soldiers were now positioned behind the stockade in six rows of fifty. While he was standing right behind it, so that he can see, a young messenger stood next to him. Her horse's reins in her hand. Both of them waiting until the Nilfgaardians came into sight.

It was early morning, so early the sun hadn't yet risen. "When do you think they'll get here?" the messenger asked him. "Soon, noon perhaps." he told her.

They silently stared together, until the eastern sky turned purple and they heard it. A rhythmic thumbing. It got louder and louder, then they saw them. A black sea of men, closing in with the rising sun. all of them barefoot and dressed in black cloths. "Slave soldiers, the only way for Nilfgaard to expand as quickly as it did." Valerd told the messenger, whose face had paled at the sight. She must be green. "Go. Inform the queen.", he ordered and the woman swung onto her horse and galloped away. Past his archers, to where the pass opened. So that their cavalry, their most well trained and effective division, could be effective.

Looking to the enemy, Valerd couldn't even count how many there were. As they came closer, he could finally see passed the slaves. Behind the slaves, there were spearmen. Who, occasionally, speared through one of the men in front of them. To keep them moving forward quickly.

Once the enemy entered range, Valerd commanded his soldiers to "Nock!"

Then "Draw!"

And "Loose!"

He watched as the volley flew above him and over to the slaves. I'm sorry.

Due to their lack of armour, hundreds of the enemy died in the first volley. Valerd ordered another and another and another, mentally apologising every time. By the fifteenth volley, the enemy reached the first trench and they did something that shocked him. Behind the slave soldiers, a man in polished steel plate with winged helm commanded a charge and the slaves were forced to comply. The spearmen remained where they were.

They ran, those in front falling into the trench. Killing themselves on the stakes within, until it was full of corpses. Then the men behind them ran over their bodies, only to fall in the second trench. Valerd commanded his men to loose at will and he watched the mindless slaughter.

In only three hours, all the slave soldiers were either dead or dying. Valerd had killed the last himself, the poor man had climbed up the corpses of his fellows to reach him behind the wall. The last of the slaves was killed with a simple sword thrust. The dry ground of the pass had turned into a red swamp and his archers had run out of arrows. The trenches and stockade had been rendered useless by the corpses.

Valerd was an old man, veteran of countless battles, but even he was thankful he hadn't eaten that morning.

As he watched, he saw activity behind the spearmen and soon, out came men with wooden planks. Then they started laying them on the bodies of the slave soldiers.

Disgusted, Valerd turned away from the carrion field and faced his men. Who thankfully not seen what he did. "Retreat!" he commanded, "We are joining the main army!".

POV Calanthe

"They what?" Eist, who's horse stood beside hers, asked.

"The Nilfgaardians have made the fortifications useless, your grace." said the commander.

"How?" Eist asked, incredulous.

The veteran paled and said "I... I'd rather not say."

"Speak, man." her husband commanded.

"They used slave soldiers to fill the trenches and make a mound in front of the stockade. Then started laying planks on their corpses so that the main army can walk across them. I chose to retreat due to my men running out of arrows."

"You made the right decision," she said calmly "you and your men will join the other infantrymen."

The commander nodded and returned to his men, barking orders. Then the division of three hundred, and their commander, quickly formed ranks behind her spearmen.

Calanthe sighed, "We'll be outnumbered."

"Aye."

She made to continue, but the sound of a perfect march stopped her. Then, she saw it. The main Nilfgaardian army, the most disciplined army in the world they said. From what she could see, they had three divisions, not counting the slaughtered slave soldiers. Spearmen in the front with tower shields, in black chainmail over black gambeson with black conical helms. Archers in the back, clad in black gambeson and conical helm. To the army's left and right were two separate cavalries, all on black destriers in black plate armour. With the occasional winged helm. In total, they had 50 000 men.

"They have us five to one." he said dryly.

"I can see that Eist." she returned.

"Though battles have been won with worse odds." he tried.

Her only response was a glare in his direction.

"We're surrounded, your grace!" Albin shouted.

A quick look around her confirmed it, they were finally surrounded. Her army had managed to keep that from happening for hours now, though it felt like days to her. Her army was strong, well trained and well-armed, but there were simply to many. Every time one was killed, two would fill the gap and take his place.

Her forces had lost most of her spearmen and all her archers, but most of her heavy cavalry still lived. They could still return to Cintra and hopefully kill enough of them in a siege for them to give up or they could outlast them.

She turned to her husband and tried to yell over the clashing of metal and the cries of dying men, even in the center of all her men and horses. It was just so loud. "EIST!" she called, "We must retreat! Back to Cintra!"

"Aye!" he yelled back and quickly removed his helm to look for a thinner section of the encirclement, but just as he was about to put it back on. A black feathered arrow ripped through his eye and out the back of his skull, swiftly killing him.

For Calanthe, it seemed that time froze, Eist just sitting in his saddle. An expression of shock on his face, then it restarted and his corpse fell to the ground. Watching this, something in her snapped and then, like her mind and body finally realised that they now had an outlet for all her bottled-up rage at her repeated loses, her bloodlust covered her vision like red tinted glass. Most of her critical thinking was kicked to the back of her mind and all she could think of was one of two things: glorious death killing all she could find or returning to Cintra. Thanks to the two waiting for her, her thoughts of returning to Cintra won out and she yelled "TO ME! TO CINTRA!" getting the attention of all her men, before kicking her horse northward. Intent on killing any who got in the way of her return and ignoring any injury.