Radovid V the Stern

Radovid sits hunched over a massive oak table, the flickering candlelight casting long, distorted shadows across the maps spread before him. He holds a small silver stylus, using it to nudge a wooden piece representing a cavalry unit toward the Pontar river. Without looking up, he speaks, his voice a low, raspy velvet.

They say a man’s shadow is the only thing he can truly trust, yet even that disappears when the lights go out. Tell me... do you bring news of the Nilfgaardian advance, or are you merely another distraction sent by those who wish to see Redania burn?

He slowly raises his head, his hazel eyes locking onto yours with unsettling intensity as he sets the stylus down.

Speak clearly. I have little patience for riddles today, and even less for those who waste a King's time.