Wrapped in a tense kind of silence, you pressed your back against the wet stone surface of a cave wall and gestured for the rest of your unit to remain behind.

A small flame flickered between your fingers, yet you didn't call the magic to run free.

This ability of yours was an advantage that you needed to keep secret as long as possible. You weren't a skilled mage, but the element of surprise made you about as dangerous as a trained soldier with a sword.

As silent as possible, you slipped further ahead, always looking out where the shadows waited to offer a safe place to hide.

With bated breath you found cover behind a rock that was close enough to pick up some conversation.

The dull voices started to form watery words, not quite easy to understand but easy enough to know what was going on.

"This is a trap.", the voice of a man said, audibly angered by the recent events. "Somebody must have made promises so that they would abandon us!"

"It's the fucking blacks, I'm sure!", a female voice chipped in.

She sounded even more emotional, as if she were at the verge of letting loose all the anger and disgust she had stored for the Nilfgaardian army.

Someone, who wasn't the first man, let a sound of approval be heard. It seemed like this one was less impulsive and rather wanted to take his time and think before he said something.

You threw a glance over to the direction from where the noises came.
A few people stood around the campfire.

There was the woman you had heard.

She was blonde, with short, chopped hair that might as well could have been worn by a man. Her choice of clothes seemed questionable to you, since all she wore was some plain leather pants, a blue coat with short sleeves and a white cotton shirt that almost left all of her chest exposed.

One well placed arrow and she'd drop dead in an instant.

At the thought that she must have been the best the rebels had, you couldn't help but huff softly.

Your eyes moved on.

The other people, all men, didn't look rather threatening nor of interest.

Their faces were written with exhaustion and many long days on the battlefield. Splatters of blood covered their clothes and the blades around their waists didn't look like much either.

Those were men who were loyal to the borders they wanted to protect but didn't know how.

All of them, except for one.

As somebody moved, your attention was caught.

There was another man. He stood with his back towards you, making it impossible to see his face.

Yet it was easy to tell he was of higher importance since he wore some kind of armour in all white and blue.

The colours of Temeria.

His hair was covered by a black turban, while a large sword hung over his shoulders.

Despite the poorly equipped state that the rebels were in, he wore boots made of metal and other armour that was hidden from the eye underneath that long blue coat of his.

Interested, you stretched your neck in an attempt to catch a glimpse of his face.

But he moved.

A soft curse crossed your lips. You pulled back into the dark.

"It doesn't matter how many left.", he said.

Immediately, you noticed how smooth the tone of his voice was. It had something soothing to it, calm and gentle yet strong. It was the voice one would have expected a leader to have.

"What bullshit?!", the woman hissed.

The sound of her voice alone was enough to know that she was about to let hellfire rain down on everyone who dared to step up against her.

"Ves.", the man said in a calming manner. "We lost the ones we couldn't trust. What matters is, how many can we trust?"

One of the other man took a deep breath to let it out the next second.

"Not many, I fear.", he said. "A good half of our forces is gone."

"And the other half?"

"Loyal. More or less. About a dozen are loyal to you, Vernon. The others stay because the merchant payed them enough to wipe their asses with gold for the next decade or so."

As the name Vernon echoed from the walls, goosebumps grew all over your body.

This was a terrible joke by fate. Yet it also was an opportunity that you couldn't have even imagined to wish for.

Vernon Roche, the leader of the rebels against the empire was in this very cave.

For many months now it was said that his leadership caused the empire more than just a few struggles. The army of the black had even lost a few battles in smaller provinces because of his brilliant tactics.

You knew that as soon as his name would leave these walls, Emhyr would be fuming with hate.

If you would bring this man to the emperor he had no chance to decline you any more.

Vernon Roche was the only thing that stood between Nilfgaard's victory and the northern countries.

This was the last barricade that had to fall to end this war.

And you were about to burn it down.

Perhaps this day wasn't the worst of your life but would soon turn into the best you'd ever get to live.

With a gesture, you called one of the archers to your side.

"Go and tell general Voorhis that he needs to be prepared to catch a fish bigger than the merchant.", you whispered into his ear. "And make sure to only inform him. Not a word to another person."

You smirked while shadows danced across your face.

Understanding yet with fear of you in his eyes, he swallowed hard and rushed away.

Your gaze returned to the other soldiers.

Most of them were dressed in heavy armour with little possibilities to move quickly.

This was a good moment to strike the rebels by surprise, yet it could have been possible that they had other exits to escape.

In that case, the soldiers wouldn't have been able to follow.

An annoyed sigh rolled from your lips.

This was a risk you needed to take.

"Very well...", you whispered and ordered the magic to answer to the biggest chaos inside of you. "Soldiers! We strike!"