"Louis! Wake the hell up! WE HAVE TO GO NOW! THE BLACKCLADS ARE ON THE HORIZON!"
Louis opened his eyes, ears still ringing from the cannonade that exploded near him. All he could see was the smoke. All he could hear were screams all around him. In milliseconds it all rushed back to him. Ebbing, 1239. He was in a Volunteer Regiment. One that was in full retreat. Except for the one yelling at him, Luka.
The events of the past month rushed back to him, they were on the Ebbing Stair. The mountainous heart of the lands facing the full brunt of Nilfgaard's power.
Louis long loathed Nilfgaard, he heard stories of what they do to subjugated lands. In fact, the young Kaedweni had a familial feud with the bloodthirsty Empire. His family came to Kaeden to avoid the persecution of Freya's Followers, his grandpa would tell stories of their escape to the Northern Realms. Of the Nauzicca Brigades that almost captured them, and sometimes the sympathetic Gheso conscript that had been guarding them when they 'escaped'. They'd later see him hanging from a rope...
The Volunteer Brigade arrived too little too late, no number of volunteers could stop the Blackclad's. Now, in order to let the Northerners live to see their families, the native soldiers were giving a path of clear retreat to the volunteers.
The man snapping Louis awake was Luka, a Cidarian he met during his deployment Gors Velen. However, in this moment of time, there were no such thing as countries. Only life and death in different directions.
"Shit! How long was I out?" Louis wiped the soot off of his face
"Damn near an hour, I carried you as far as I could, but it's getting too steep. The Soldiers 'ere are giving the Blackclad's a run for their Florin's. There's an evacuation underway at the River Lete, just past the mountains. It's our only way out!"
There was a reason it was called the Ebbing Stairs, in 1123 the King at the time set about chiseling a pathway through the mountain, leveling it was simply too difficult. The result was a stairway through the middle of the mountain. Although trade was forced to be conducted by whatever would be carried by back, it's inability to offer a berth ensured protection against highwaymen. Not to mention an impeccable area to stage a defense...or an evacuation.
Luka led the way, with Louis close behind. Occasionally Louis would glance down the Mountain, all he could see was fire rising from every inch of the land below. Sometimes, he'd see an injured soldier stumble past them, or the occasional corpse. Louis despised thinking of the mother that would be weeping for them. He even saw a stony-faced mountain of a man walk towards the battle. The man gave the aura of an experienced peasant soldier. Worn down to an emotionless husk by years in the army. The three exchanged curt nods whilst passing each other.
Louis Charlins, the Mayor of the City of Ban Gleán was abruptly awoken to knocks on his door. The images of the grizzled Ebbing soldier fading from the recesses of his mind. He saw the darkness enveloping his windows.
The groggy Mayor opened the door to see Corporal Zyvik of the Dun Banner standing outside. Louis sighed, he couldn't stand the Dun's, they were Henselt's pride and joy and of course he decided to station them in his damn city. Although, he was growing quite fond of Zyvik. The man had become the unofficial military attache to the Mayor.
"You're up early, Zyvik, this best be worth my while." Louis told him in a jesting manner.
Zyvik wore a solemn expression while handing the note to the mayor. As if to add insult to injury, his Beaver Cap was tucked in between his armpit.
"Received from the fortress of Glevitzingen, you've been summoned to the Garrison in 15 minutes."
Zyvik closed the door, leaving the Mayor to think.
"I've never been summoned to the Garrison...my presence has only ever been requested."
As the thoughts swirled, Louis got changed into his casual attire. A suit he wore every day. His ensemble completed with a hidden knife in his coat.
Whatever was in this note was enough to make the easygoing Zyvik take off his Beaver Cap. The Mayor faced out his window, looking at the sleeping city. The people he swore to protect upon becoming the mayor.
After a deep sigh, Mister Charlins opened the letter. The words within it made him tremble.
"Nilfgaard crossed the Yaruga at midnight, Lyria and Rivia are under attack."
The quivering Mayor made haste after opening that note, which he noted was soaked with sweat and blood. The Grey Rider who delivered it rode with such ferocity that the stench stung his nostrils. Gingerly, he stuffed the note in his back pocket. Then set out for the Garrison.