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</div><br/><br/>Just like his ancestors before him, Corbin Remy was born and raised in the city of Reims. A city in northeastern France's Grand East region. It once was considered the best champagne wine growing region of the country. For more than 1,000 years, French kings were crowned at its Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Reims. That truth seemed like a fantasy compared to what was happening in the city in present day.<br/><br/>Corbin struggled to fall asleep. The sounds of war were no stranger to this region anymore. Footfalls of men walking about on sentry duty could be heard if he left his window open at night. He hadn't done such a thing in a while; nobody had. Children played inside for their parents feared they would be shot or taken by enemies of war. When sleep finally claimed him a dreamless sleep was welcomed.<br/><br/>What felt like mere seconds after he entered a darkened slumber he was pulled from his bed and forced onto his feet. Standing up at five foot and ten inches in height didn't make him not supress the scream that came from his throat as the cold steel of a gun contacted his temple. The sight of eyes the color of slate met his that were the color of hickory. The disheveled hair upon the soldiers head reminded him of the medium bronze color of antique currency. The man had facial hair, where as Corbin was clean shaven. A state of shock didn't allow him to understand what was being commanded of him. Only that his feet somehow knew self preservation as they stumbled in struggle to comply. By the time the scent of outside air reached his panicked olfactory senses a darkness took him once more that wasn't welcomed as the one sleep had been.<br/><br/>Silence eventually woke Corbin from his involuntary slumber. The uncomfortable pulsating spot he felt at the back of his head make him groan out loud. On instinct he tried to place his hand against the tender place and rub some of the discomfort away. The rattle of chain and an inability to move his hand to the desired destination made him come to full consciousness to his surroundings. He wasn't blindfolded and yet he couldn't see the very walls that surely surrounded him. His hands were bound in chains. He could take about five steps before he was restricted by the length of his bound wrists. He tripped over what he figured was a pot of some sort for relieving of bodily substances. He managed to touch three of the four walls around him. The fourth one just out of reach of his hands. He laid upon the ground and stretched forth his socked feet to attempt to feel the fourth wall.<br/><br/>His efforts were rewarded with feeling the sensation of a heavy door, rather than the rough concrete texture that had been of the other three walls. A distant noise not of his own making made him stand up and take steps away from the door until his back was against the wall that the chain was anchored to. Was someone coming?