The nonhuman district of Ban Gléan is a marvel to behold. Vastly unlike its counterparts in other Northern Kingdoms. Where other cities possess a ghetto, Ban Gléan hosts a proud quarter. It is a melting pot of Nonhuman tradition.
'Cleanest streets in all the North's Ghettoes' the Tavern owners would oft brag to passerby's. 'The Squirrels would be hard-pressed to find an elf willing to house them' was a common phrase passing soldiers would hear.
The D'hoine here respected their nonhuman counterparts. Multiple reasons persisted as to why. One was Carlisle Skelter. The Viziman Elf that presided within the heart of the Quarter.
The night afore Louis' assembly of the city, Carlisle entered his home. The famished man became infatuated by images of what he'd cook. Perhaps some bread with caramelized onions. No, rather the pork that he'd been meaning to cook. The images swirled in his head whilst ascending the steps to his apartment. Unfortunately for him, all dreamy manifestations of food vanished upon entrance to his residency.
"Carlisle Skelter…nonhuman representative on Ban Gléan."
The intruder sat on Carlisle's couch. Consuming a sandwich produced from his pantry. That wholeheartedly eliminated the minuscule good faith occupying Carlisle. Alternatively mobilizing his hidden knife. The Elf had worked hard to purchase this apartment, it sure as hell won't host a stranger. Not one that ate the bread he uses for his unfathomably exquisite sandwiches.
"I must apologize for helping myself to your food. It was a long ride from Dol Blathanna."
The man spoke Elvish, Carlisle responded likewise.
"Have you any weapons on you? Drop them, I'm not afraid to paint my walls red."
Once again, the stranger revealed his unarmed persons.
"You needn't worry, if I wanted to harm you, I wouldn't be eating a sandwich on your couch. The name is Ma'val Helter. I have been dispatched at the behest of The Daisy of the Valley's, Francesca Findabair."
Carlisle betrayed visible confusion that dismayed him from sheathing the knife.
"Who the fuck is Francesca Findabair? What the gods is this?"
Helter's face soured.
"Have you any tea? I can answer your inquiries if you get a kettle boiling."
Carlisle sighed, caving into the man's demands. Always the pragmatist, he knew particulars extracted from this individual proved vital to Louis. The teamaking proceeded with haste, prompting Ma'val to balance the books. Carlisle awaited a response, adjusting to a relaxed position. Leaning on the window sill, he pricked up his ears.
"In regards to your questions, Francesca is...was a member of the sorcerers guild. She retreated from the Thanedd summit to form a nation for nonhumans...a place to call home."
Carlisle released a grunt.
"Really now, this is Dol Blathanna? Tell me, are you whoring out to Nilfgaard?"
Ma'val was flabbergasted by the inquiry, nonetheless, he retorted.
"We are allied with Nilfgaard, yes...but-"
Carlisle cut him off, all the while scouring his pantry for loose tea.
"No, you're a pawn to Nilfgaard, you know what will happen to that bitch Francesca once Nilfgaard is pushed across the Yaruga? Hm? There'll be a bounty on her head, your Dol Blathanna will be overrun. Worst of all, the non humans who made a life in the North will have go through the shit you put us through again. We've been through pogroms, extra taxes, brigands, but you haven't seen us put on a hat and galavant around Brokilon. Why are you even here?"
Amidst his rant, Carlisle found the Koviri Breakfast Tea. The disgruntled elf prepared the mug. An answer awaited him upon deliverance to Ma'vall.
"I'm here to formally ask for Ban Gléan to quietly revolt against Kaedwen. We can supply a Vrihedd detachment to assist you in your conquest. The acquisition of border cities like this will ease up logistical issues for our Commando's. I know you're not favorable of us, but surely you understand we are the only way forward."
Carlisle felt his anger rising. Yet, he suppressed his bubbling ire. Alternatively opting for gripping his kitchen ledge.
"No."
Ma'val groaned, predicting this answer.
"May I inquire as to why?"
"I serve the non-humans of Ban Gléan, not that pampered bitch in Dol Blathanna. Tell your terrorists to stay far away from this city and our people. We've constructed lives for ourselves, all you do is destroy!"
Helter paced to and fro. Arriving to rest against a window. Wing tousling his black curly hair, the full moon shone on his face. Revealing it to be devoid of scars. Carlisle took notice.
"Tell me, how many winters have you?"
"Twenty, sir."
"I've Thirty-Eight, I served in the first war. As a spy...excuse me."
Carlisle disappeared into his chamber, providing a Medal of Valor from the Temerian Intelligence Corps upon reemergence.
"This Medal was given to me in a ceremony attended by King Foltest and General Natalis. I earned it by dismantling seven Vrihedd Brigades from the inside. Thousands of Northerners would've died if I didn't put them six feet under. The things I saw them do made me ashamed to be elvish. I've a scar on my back to prove it. I saw with my own two eyes what they did to all that fought for the North. Tell me, have you ever seen an execution row? Hm? All the boys who are crying to see their mother again? Only to end up gurgling on their own blood, tears in their eyes? Have you ever seen a group of Dwarven mercenaries singing a tune from the Mahakaman mines as they dug their own graves? That's what I saw during my time in the Scoia'tael, and I won't let a single one of them into this city. Get the fuck out of Kaedwen, I won't ask twice."
Ma'val's ire climaxed, his adolescent innocence that successfully concealed itself had now shone brighter than the full moon.
"You're a damned turncoat that's what you are!"
Carlisle snatched the mug back to his possession.
"No! You're a naïve boy who doesn't understand how change really gets done! Right now I'm doing more than you and your merry band of terrorists could ever hope to accomplish in a century! You can keep spilling elven blood for a foolish cause, but I refuse to die for such a blood-soaked ambition."
Helter scoured for words, yet offered naught. All he could gather was a weak rejoinder.
"But what about the slurs, the pogroms? Our people are being murdered! All the while you chum up to our killers, you spy for them for Blathanna's sake!"
Carlisle pondered for a moment.
"For every terrible D'hoine that calls me a pointy ear traitor, there is a man like Louis. I assume you saw the extra guards stationed around the quarter? That is done to prevent any smart-alec's that may want a pogrom. Mayor Charlins may be an older man, but he is the type that will lead the Kingdoms of the future. You would never know that if you slaughtered him as the Squirrels do. That is why I do what I do, so that men like him may live to fight another day. So go die for your useless cause, or do what I did...The right thing."
Helter felt utterly useless, he presumed to convert this man to this indefatigable cause. All he acquired was the truth. Not all D'hoine wanted him dead, not every Elf was a stalwart liberator.
"Well, what is the right thing?"
"That's up to you to decide. If it were up to me, I'd save a tidy sum, and buy a nice home on the Ofieri coast. Far away from all this, but it's too late for me. Tell me, have you any family?"
"No sir, I'm an orphan."
Carlisle hadn't always been...Carlisle. Before the Temerian Intelligence, he was Cassidy Vantel. His emigration to Kaedwen after the war was marked with Scoia'tael assassination attempts. So he decided to make them win.
Carlisle was always prepared. In Cassidy's coffin is a Pontar travel permit and coin. He smirked at the soldier. For tonight, a young boy doomed to fight and die would get a way out.
"If I offered you a way out of the Scoia'tael, would you take it?"
"Aye, I would."
"Very well then, listen closely."
Carlisle inhaled sharply.
"There is a graveyard 100 paces east of here. That graveyard is where I faked my death under the name Cassidy Vantel. Within the coffin is a thousand coin, a change of clothes, and a travel permit across the Pontar. Take a ferry to the Novigrad in new clothes, don't reveal your coin to ANYONE. Once you get to Novigrad, look for a man named Hattori. Inform him that you were sent by Cassidy. He is going to ask you for your favorite holiday. The correct answer is Vacren Va. Follow his instructions from there. There will be consequences if you do not show up to Hattori in the next week. We have our ways."
"Alright...I promise, I don't know how to thank you for this"
"It's easy...once you've finished, leave the coffin open so it's easier to restock the escape kit. You're the third Squirrel to approach me this year."
Ma'val curtly nodded. Any thoughts he had of rebounding were formally terminated with that statement. The Scoia'tael needed young fodder, Carlisle had saved lives before him. Ma'val would not hinder him.
"Before I go...these other Squirrels, did they look like me?"
"Aye, they all possessed that youthful glare you had. I just hope they remember me when they grow old. You best get going now, sky will only stay dark for so long."
To his surprise, Ma'val hugged Carlisle. Holding for a long while before letting go.
"Stay safe on the highroads Ma'val."
"Thank you...Stay safe in Ban Gléan."