The disorder coming from the Dun Banner garrison faded away. Louis walked down the darkened streets. Shafts of sunlight crept through the buildings of the city. He observed more people opening their shops, the distant clank of a Blacksmith forging a sword could be heard. Some people walked past him, unaware that a few hundred miles there is a war unfolding. The Aedirnians and Lyrians don't have that privilege.
The Mayor slammed the door to the town hall open. His secretary, Carol Vigo, dropped the breakfast he was preparing for the Mayor. Startled, she began to speak.
"Oh, good morning Louis, is anything the matter? You're acting like Lebioda just flashed you." She chuckled.
Louis gave the slip of paper to his secretary.
"Zyvik dropped this off for me earlier today, make sure it gets to the newspaper, and convene the council. It's an emergency meeting, and bring Marcel Baskabol this time."
"But sir-"
"I don't care what the other representatives say. Get them here, Nilfgaard crossed the Yaruga."
Carol turned pale.
"A-Again? All the blood spilled at Sodden Hill, done for naught?"
Louis nodded, Carol sharply inhaled.
"You can expect them here before noon."
Carol exited the Mayor's office, making sure the door was shut before she yelled out orders on his behest. It was more of a polite gesture, when she hollered commands the whole building could shake.
It was noon, the town council gathered in the meeting room. Around it sat five people.
Jan Stryker, head of the Ban Gléan merchants guild. He put the guild members above all other importance of the city
Dorothy Callister, representative of the Unicorn Dynasty. She was the only female in the group. This woman was the direct line from the Kaedweni Crown to the Southern City.
Marcel Baskabol, representative of Ban Gléan D'hoine. He also racked up twenty Vrihedd Brigade kills during the first war. His disdain toward the elven race was only withdrawn for Carlisle Skelter.
Lastly, there was the aforementioned Carlisle Skelter, Elven representative of the Ban Gléan nonhumans. All other members, save for Marcel and the Mayor grimaced upon his entrance. Carlisle served in Temerian intelligence as a valuable undercover spy. The Squirrels had a bounty on him for years. In fact, he had fought off three assassination attempts during his time in Kaedwen.
They took their seats, all of the members staring daggers into each other.
"Gentlemen, and Woman, I must thank you for convening on an emergency basis. I shall do away with the formalities. This morning I was notified by the Dun Banner that Nilfgaard has pushed into Dol Angra...This is no longer a border skirmish, The North is at war once again."
The room's occupants went pale. Whilst the outside sky darkened. There was a storm coming, in more ways than one. A silence fell upon each of the occupants.
Jan could only think about his two sons in Ard Skellig. How long until they got the news? Should they stay in Skellige until the war blows over? The thoughts weighed heavily on his mind.
Carlisle and Marcel looked at each other. They knew that once the squirrels attacked, the humans would start massacring the ghettoes. All they could do was sigh and hope that Ban Gléan didn't make that list.
Dorothy could only think of three things, her son who breathed his last on the Marnadal stairs, the Scoia'tael who slaughtered her daughter, and her only surviving grandson who lived with distant relatives in Pont Vanis.
While the majority of the group were consumed in thought, Marcel asked the necessary question...The one involving the Scoia'tael.
"Are the Scoia'tael ramping up attacks? Is the Vrihedd Brigade back in action?"
Jan Stryker interjected before the Mayor could answer.
"I'm sure you already know the answer to that."
Marcel spoke rather harshly, on Carlisle's behalf.
"Oh fuck off Jan. If it were up to you and your guild boys, you'd sell this city to Nilfgaard for three and a half Florins."
Louis slammed his fist on the table. Silencing everyone in the room with his reaction to the icy disagreements.
"THAT'S ENOUGH! Can't you dimwits see that this is what Nilfgaard wants. Emhyr Var Emreis wants this infighting, that's how we fall...you all remember Cintra, right? It was our reluctance that fucked over Calanthe, and it was our United forces at Sodden hill that stopped Nilfgaard the first time. Do you know what'll happen once the Continent falls under their grasp? They're gonna look east, to Zerrikania, and then west to Skellige...Who knows what they'll do after that, turn their sights to Ofier?"
Dorothy Callister spoke up for the first time in the meeting.
"The Mayor is right, when I served in the royal palace at Ard Carraigh we had a Nilfgaardian deserter on the General Staff. According to him, Var Emreis is an ambitious man. So long as he sits on the throne the man'll chomp away at the north until they are all provinces. It began in Ebbing, and it'll end in Kovir. Somewhere in between...there will be us."
Carlisle sighed, sensing the hopelessness in Dorothy's voice.
"That's it, huh, keep on waiting until Nilfgaard subjugates us? While the merchants thrive on the North in shackles."
Jan Stryker sighed a response back to Carlisle.
"You know damn well our crafts are being destroyed by those impossible to pronounce fucks too. Anything south of Maribor is most likely a Nilfgaardian good. We just can't compete with them."
Marcel silenced both of them, but Carlisle and Jan already understood they were both equally fucked under Nilfgaard's heel.
"So, what the hell are we supposed to do? We're a border city, not a large one at that. How do we play in the grand scheme of things?"
"I'm glad you asked Marcel, but before I tell you…"
He nodded at the two guards in the room. They simultaneously slammed the oak doors shut. They squeaked on its hinges as it closed with a mighty THUD.
The closure coincided with a crack of lighting. Signaling that the rains would be coming soon. Jan and Marcel got up from their seats. Together, they set about opening the windows in the room. The opportunity for summer rain wasn't going to pass them by so easily.
"I need to know that whatever I say doesn't leave this room."
Louis surveyed the room, a brief silence ensued until Dorothy Callister voiced her concerns.
"So...what're you gonna do now? Have you brokered a deal with the blackclads already?"
Louis took offense to that, Dorothy knew he was a veteran of Ebbing. The rains let loose, filling the room with cool air. Just enough to neutralize Louis's hot temper.
"Wha...No! I fought in Ebbing!" Louis took a deep breath, releasing his anger with the exhale that followed. "
What I'm about to tell you is something that nobody in the royal court should hear. Other than you."
Dorothy nodded, then gestured for Louis to continue.
"The same applies to all of you...Henselt is planning to betray the North."
Dorothy and Marco muttered in agreement, they knew Henselt was nothing more than a thief in King's clothing. Meanwhile, Carlisle and Jan remained skeptical.
"Care to explain where you got such a baseless accusation, Louis?"
Jan Stryker glanced at Louis, adamantly waiting for an answer that he thought would never come.
"I was just getting to that. Do you really think I'd go through all this trouble without having proof? Anyways, this morning, when I was in the Dun Banner barracks, I had to piss after my meeting. So I went upstairs to use the toilet. It was there that I accidentally stumbled upon a secret meeting between two people. One of them is a messenger on behalf of Menno Coehoorn. Y'know, the Governor of Cintra. That son of a bitch Henselt cut a deal with the Blackclads. Whatever the cunt promised to do at Hagge Castle, he won't deliver. Instead, he's going to march the Dun Banner across the Pontar and shake hands with Coehoorn on the River Dyphne."
Marcel was convinced. He'd seen betrayals like that before. Vividly recalling when North stalled to aid Cintra. Jan still wasn't swayed, he voiced his doubts.
"How are you so sure? Can't the Duns just be patrolling the Pontar, we are a border city after all."
Dorothy interrupted Louis before he could speak. She could vouch for him thanks to the vast experience in the Ard Carraigh palace.
"The Duns are Henselt's pride and joy, he marches them at the front in every parade. I've heard a lot of the general staff complain about how he outright ignores his siege divisions. Now, do you think it'd make more sense for him to have the precious Dun Banners do some 'border patrols'? Or perhaps it's more likely he's sending the Duns across Upper Aedirn to shake hands and size up the Blackclads."
Jan sighed, "I suppose that's true, I'm convinced, but whatever you're going to do I'm not on board yet. How much time do we have anyway? I've had to outrun the Alba Division before, at the speed they move you'd think you're riding against the Wild Hunt."
Now that the group was united, they turned to Louis for guidance.
"Hm...we could try to warn Aedirn, do we have a Grey Rider in our employ?"
Carlisle nodded, "Yes, fast as the wind and silent as the night. In fact, I heard he stole a Vrihedd's Steed at Brokilon and it took a day for them to notice. By that time he was already in Ellander."
Marcel spoke up, his voice beaming with skepticism.
"So we've got a Grey Rider, but where do we send him? Our heads will roll if we tell the wrong people."
It was within Marcel's sentence that Louis found a plan. He recalled Dorothy's nonchalant reference of a Nilfgaardian deserter in the Royal court.
"Dorothy, earlier you mentioned that there's a Nilfgaardian in the Palace. How's he doing nowadays? Perhaps it's time he paid a visit to Ban Gléan."
Dorothy nodded, "He's still in Ard Carraigh. I suggest we send the Grey Rider up North. Perhaps we can stop all this before it unfolds."
Jan Stryker pulled out a pouch of coins. Surprising everyone in the room. Jan was a frugal man, that was how he was elected to this position, after all.
"The merchants thrive in a unified North, we can't have any backstabbing. Split this between the Grey Rider and the Nilfgaardian. Salaries don't secure silence, but a few extra Ducats can get the job done. Whatever you're gonna do Louis, the Trade Guilds will support you financially."
What he didn't tell the rest of the group was that he wanted to make sure his sons made it through the war. He would pay any price to have his boys bury him, rather than have to bury them. Meanwhile, Dorothy spoke to Louis.
"I support you too, but I can't lend any coin. As a courtesy, I can keep you in contact with the Nilfgaardian and keep Henselt in the dark of any affairs."
Marcel and Carlisle were conversing. All eyes fell on the unlikely duo who would've stabbed each other a few years back. It was Marcel who spoke up.
"Me and Marcel talked it over. The Nonhumans hate Demavend, but we despise Henselt even more. Most of Jan's trades guilds are already nonhuman, but it won't take a lot of convincing for the rest of the lot. As for the D'hoine of Ban Gléan, I'm sure there are spies among us. He's going to keep this under wraps. That goes for you people too. Henselt has deep coffers, and he's gonna spend every Ducat to make sure this betrayal goes through."
The group nodded in agreement. They looked to Louis for the final time at that meeting.
"This meeting is dismissed, remember, if any agent of the crown catches us, they'll stretch our necks for it."
The guards opened the door, one by one, the guests filed out of the room. Leaving only Lewis and the two guards.
"You two, tell the Captain to double security in anticipation for assassins. Say that you got word of a Nilfgaardian plot to destabilize small cities to make it easier for the Scoia'tael or whatnot. Also, get word to Carol to prepare a meeting for the city and the outlying villages. People need to be informed. Make sure no one comes in here unless its Emhyr Var Emreis himself."
The two guards looked at each other, then to Louis. The bearded one spoke up.
"That sounds pretty important sir, what are you planning on doing?"
"I'm taking a damn nap."