Dorothy Callister witnessed the Grey Rider near her apartment. She knew they were going to rendezvous in the stables. A transaction that would occur under moonlight.

She grabbed a loaf of bread upon departure. Three moons had passed since the Grey Rider departed. The man needed it.

The narrow hallway she walked down was only a few inches taller than her. She despised it, always inches away from bumping into a roof. Shoulda joined the army, like that Black Rayla girl she met during Demavend'd visit.

The thoughts consumed her every time she wanted to join the army. The war had already taken her two kids from her, and she was the sole provider of her only grandchild. She wasn't gonna throw her life away on a whim, no, she was a politician...An agent of the crown.

Dorothy found herself in the stable at the end of her wagon of thought. The Grey Rider pulled in and stepped off his horse. He was half of Dorothy's height, but still towered over a dwarf. His horse eagerly gnawed on hay. The man took his hood off, revealing the sweating visage that lay underneath.

"From Caldwyn Aep Stregaa…" he wheezed through exhausted pants, eagerly eyeing the bread that Dorothy brought with her.

Dorothy nodded, the small man scarfed the entire loaf within seconds. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a sealed letter contained within his messengers cylinder.

"Thank you sir, you're free to rest in the stables, and as always, you're paid for your silence. Goodnight."

A pouch of coin landed in the Grey Riders hands, courtesy of Jan Strykers personal fund. The man tucked it within the bowels of his jacket then set about making himself comfy in the stable hands cot.

Dorothy found herself outside the Mayor's office, she knocked three times in close succession. Moonlight was still shining strong, the summer nights in Ban Gléan were always something to behold. The door swung open, and Louis ushered her inside. Closing and locking it behind her.

Inside, Louis was looking over his notes, which contained the most information he knew about the war...Save for the elephant in the room. He looked up from his notes.

"Time is of the essence Dorothy, the peasants from the outlying villages are gathering in the morn. Open the letter."

The seal broke, the letter opened. Louis diligently read while Dorothy listened.

"Dear Louis,

I would like to thank you for reaching out. I knew Dorothy made the right decision by contacting me. Rest assured I shan't inform Henselt about this. If he wasn't born a King I'm sure he would be running amok with the Duke of Dogs. Regardless, now that we have become acquaintances, I think it best that I tell you how I got here.

I am a high-born Nilfgaardian, not a part of a subjugated province. My father is Jeurgen Stregaa, a noble of Vicovaro. I assume Dorothy told you I'm a part of the General Staff, that is true, but I'm also related to the lord of Shaerrawedd. I've had a career in the army, and I worked with the Northern Coalition during the first war.

But first I must first tell you of my past if you are to understand my precarious situation that lead to my life in Kaedwen. For, I was born into a good life, the eldest child of the nobility. My father's name was Dilan, you do not know of him. The North doesn't remember the good Nilfgaardians.

My father wasn't like other nobles. As soon as I was able to walk, he sent me to the fields. Wanted me to toil like the peasants. He didn't give a naught for high blood. To this day I won't be afraid to give a farmer a hand in the harvest if he so needs it. I remember during one particularly bad harvest, we ate once a day just to give the rest of our food to his subjects. Not even the dogs starved that winter.

The events that changed my life began in 1257. It was an Autumn day, and I had just finished storing harvest tools in a shed. Frontin, the man who's tools I was storing for the winter, invited me to the tavern for a drink. I accepted, as any young bloke does for the opportunity for cold ale.

A chilly wind was whipping about as we made our way about the town. Perhaps a harbinger for what would occur. Me and Frontin turned the corner and saw the whole damn town gathered at the inn, listening to a messenger from the City of Golden Towers.

"—His Glorious Majesty of the Great Sun, Emperor Emhyr Var Emreis, the White Flame Dancing on the Grave of His Foes, has ordered the Stregaa lands to hereby send a centurion of Volunteers for service in the recent conflict in Nazair. All volunteers must report to the Noble of these lands. If the requirements are not met, a draft shall be enacted. Service to your empire is a privilege and a duty. We expect your forces to report to the Alba river outpost nearest to these lands for immediate training and deployment."

With that, the Messenger closed his scroll and departed the tavern. It descended into chaos, wives wept to see their husbands and sons go to war. Others were angry that Emhyr couldn't get it done with his current standing army. Most were still digesting the situation. However, the eyes around the room slowly turned to me. I was overtaken with anxiety. Dilan was usually the one in charge of this. The fear I felt in that moment still lingers in my mind. I knew I would never be fit for these lands if I ran to my father. So I did what any aspiring young noble had to do. I stood up on a table and the words poured out faster than my brain could process.

"It seems that we could not escape the shadow of war forever. It looms upon us now, stronger than ever. I see the fear and uncertainty in your eyes...I see it in mine too. However, this is not how you face a battle, I have yet to experience the horrors of war, but if Emhyr expects you to go through it, then I shall be beside you the entire time. Noble blood bleeds as the rest of you do. That is why I am volunteering myself as the first of the Centurion requested for service. Together we shall face this battle, and harm all those who wish to bring death to us. When the 100 of us cross the Alba, all of us shall return. If 99 return, let it be me who falls in battle. Now let us go to the castle."

I cannot explain what came over me. Next thing I know, I was leading the walk to the castle. My father walked outside, unsure if I was beginning a coup.

"Caldwyn, what's going on?"

"The Emperor called for a hundred volunteers. I'm going to enlist in it!"

The statement startled my dad, he must've seen my naïvety.

"No, I'm going in your place. You are of age to watch over these lands. We will talk after I've gathered the volunteers."

Within the hour, my father roused enough volunteers, and the village resumed to a state of uneasy normalcy. My father's next issue was dealing with my anger at not being allowed to fulfill my promise.

"If any brigands come here you will see them away with sword in hand. If any 'taxman' comes to town, do the same as you've done to brigands. My boy, you're going to rule well, do not have fear. It will show in your face, and your subjects will see it."

The next morn, they shipped our. The home front was slow for the rest of the war. The real downfall of the Stregaa lands came a month later.

My father was given an impossible task, and he knew this. He was to assault a Nazairi Castle in broad daylight. Deliberately meant to massacre him and his volunteers. We were always the black sheep when it came to Noble lords, and our neighbors knew it was time to do away with the Stregaa line. My father would not have it, he sent a messenger up North. My Father has family here, the lords of Shaerrawedd. Our cousins anticipated our arrival. The rest of the soldiers returned to our town.

Jeurgen would only accept volunteers for his last stand. The Ceallach clan was marching on our lands. I was given the task of shepherding subjects to our new life, but before I left my father had one last piece of advice for me.

"Caldwyn, you are the future of our Noble bloodline, but most importantly...you are my son. I wish that you could see me grow old, but your duties must take priority. I…"

His voice trailed off, replaced by tears. It was the first and last time I saw my father cry. We hugged each other for a long minute.

My father died the night we departed our castle. I packed our most valuable belongings and the long track to the North began. You can draw your own conclusions Louis, I'm grateful that we made it to Kaedwen. I'm grateful to have a beautiful daughter. I don't give a naught if she has 'low blood' mixed in her. My father instilled the values of not giving a shit for that. I have made him proud by opposing Nilfgaard every day. I will do my best for you, we are able to do the most good we can for the North. Send a letter back as soon as possible. Thank you for doing this Louis, until we meet again.

Louis wiped an almost imperceptible tear from his eye. Dorothy pretended not to notice. He set the letter down, and took a deep breath.

"Write back to him, we need him in Ban Gléan if we are to go all the way."

Louis paused.

"I had another one of those dreams Dorothy."

Dorothy knew what he was talking about, all the veterans had them.

"What was it about this time?"

"We were at the Ebbing Stairs, on our way to the Northern evacuation...Luka was there."

Dorothy nodded.

"You should write your dreams. It makes things easier, my son used to do it..."

Louis sat on his desk, rubbing his temples trying to recall his dream.

"Thank you, Dorothy, you can go now."

She glanced at Louis sparingly whilst closing the door. Then smiled, for she witnessed him with an ink feather in hand, and a piece of paper that was flooding with words.