It is nighttime. As the darkness envelops the forest around you, you sit on a log, feet outstretched, warming your boots by a campfire. Your attention is not focused on the fire specifically, yet more so what hovers over it. Two sticks set into the ground about 2 feet apart to hold up another stick, to which a fish is attached, roasting slowly. You wish you'd had anything else but fish, as that's all you've eaten for the past week. You have no clue how long you've wandered this forest, how you got lost, or what you were doing in the first place. You pull a small amount of salt out of your pocket, some you bought at an inn shortly before your journey. You sprinkle it over your catch before plucking the stick from over the fire, blowing on the fish, and taking a bite. As you prepare to take another, a great green flash from behind the trees just ahead of you startles you, causing you to nearly drop your meal. You here a rustling, and then, nothing.

You gently place your fish back over the fire before pulling your dagger from behind your back. You slowly creep toward the forest, careful to be as quiet as possible. If something threatening lurks beyond the trees your hope is to get it before it gets you. As you move beyond the trees, you trip over something, or perhaps, someone.

A woman with light colored hair and Witchers clothing lies face down in the mud. You're not sure if she's hurt or dead or how she got there. You inch your index finger towards her, yet just as your skin comes into contact with hers you're jolted backwards and then...

You wake up.

The Velen sun warms your face as you slowly lift your head off of the stone it layed on. Just a bit away from your feet the campfire you'd built the night before lies dead, nothing but a pile of ash.

You sit up, recalling the dream you'd just awoken from. It's the only one you've had for weeks on end, yet you are unable to discern its meaning. A message? Perhaps even a prophecy. Some of its details vary from time to time, yet every time you have it you're unable to see the face of the unconscious lady with the light colored hair dressed in Witchers clothing. You wonder if she is real, if maybe you'd crossed paths with her in the past, or maybe if she is just a metaphor for something greater that lurks in your future. You shake off the thought for now.

You stand up and stretch your limbs. You grab your dagger from where it was placed next to your stone pillow and sheath it behind your lower back. You pick up your two swords and crossbow place them back in their rightful position behind your back as well. You move toward the water, kneeling by the lake and washing your face. You gaze at your reflection, noticing your short, disheveled, dark brown hair as your glowing orange eyes glare back at you. You notice that your medallion, the shaped as a cat, is slightly lopsided, likely shuffling its position as you tossed and turned in your sleep. You adjust it back to its rightful position. You move from water, pulling your hood over your head as you start your journey from the forest to the nearest town.

You take your time in your travel, as you currently have no specific goal in mind. Once you get there, it is nearly supper time. The aroma of roasted pork, your favorite meal, wafts into your nose from a nearby inn. Your stomach roars with hunger as you try to recall your last meal. Three days ago, perhaps? You pull a small pouch of gold pieces from your pocket and shake it. Maybe just enough for a room, a warm meal, and a few drinks, but you ought to find a contract soon. The night looms toward you and you decide to spend a night in the town.

You make your way to the inn, approaching the female innkeep.

"What'll it be?"

"A room, a pork sandwich, and a cup of mead."

You place the required amount of currency on the counter. The innkeep nods.

"Upstairs and two doors down on the right is where you'll find your room. If you'd like to eat first take any open seat and it'll be there right away."

You express your gratitude with a slight bow and head to the empty table in the back of the inn.

An hour and two pork sandwiches later a server approaches you. You place a gold piece on the table and in exchange he sets another cup of mead by your side, your third one. You take a sip and unwind, staring into the candlelight as memories of your reoccurring dream flood back to you.

You close your eyes as you envision yourself in front of a campfire, legs outstretched, munching on a helping of fish. A great green blast shakes the forest and you snatch your dagger from behind your back. You creep toward the forest and...

A hand a cold heavy hand is placed on your left should, shaking you from your anamnesis.

You turn slowly, careful not to make any swift movements that would cause your hood to shift position.

To your surprise, a Nilfgaardian soldier hovers over you. Not only that, but he is accompanied by five more.

"You're coming with us."

Sensing imminent danger, you contemplate an onslaught. You know for a fact that you could easily overpower this small group of soldiers in a flash, yet maybe whoever sent them knew that, and they're not there to capture you. You choose your words carefully, attempting to uncover their motive.

"Am I under arrest?"

"No. The emperor would like to see you."

Although the man's accent irritates you, you decide to continue the conversation anyway.

"What does he want with me?"

"That is his business and his business alone. Come with us."

"What if I don't want to see him?"

"Then we will have to take you by force. We are giving you the opportunity to come willingly. Would you like to take it or not?"

You chug the last of your mead and stand uneasily. You nod.

"This way, please."