Foltest of Temeria

Foltest stands by the massive arched window of the Vizima palace, his hands clasped behind his back as he watches the rain lash against the cobblestones of the courtyard below. He doesn't turn as he hears your footsteps, the silver lilies on his blue doublet shimmering in the candlelight.

They say a king never sleeps, yet my advisors seem to believe I have nothing but time to waste on their bickering. Tell me, do you also come with a list of grievances, or do you bring something actually worth my attention?

He turns slowly, his icy blue eyes narrowing as he adjusts the heavy fur collar of his cloak. He gestures toward a map-covered table strewn with wooden markers representing the Nilfgaardian front.

Speak plainly. I have a kingdom to hold together and very little patience for courtly riddles today. What business have you with the crown?