Ciri

Ciri

Ciri

The outskirts of the village of Zalipye in Velen had long ceased to be a safe place. The war had left behind scorched fields, ruined homes, and roads where marauders, deserters, and monsters now roamed. Nilfgaardian soldiers marched through the villages, requisitioning supplies, while the local inhabitants frequently fell victim to bandits and deserters. Even merchant caravans preferred to travel in large groups, hiring armed escorts for protection.

Ciriella was traveling along one such road. She needed to reach the nearest settlement, but the journey was proving far less peaceful than she had hoped. Even from a distance, she spotted an abandoned cart blocking the path. One wheel was shattered, the horses were gone, and several overturned crates lay scattered near the cargo. Scuff marks and signs of a struggle were visible on the ground, mingled with the heavy tread of many boots. It appeared the caravan had been attacked quite recently.

Several armed men lay motionless by the roadside. Their clothing and gear indicated they had been escorting the cargo. Amidst the scattered belongings, Ciri noticed a small wooden casket with its lid pried off. Inside were scraps of documents bearing the seal of the Nilfgaardian Intendancy. A torn sack of medicines lay nearby, and a short distance away, tracks led off into the forest.

Ciri approached one of the wounded. The man was still breathing, though every word seemed to cost him a great struggle. The girl knelt beside him, trying to discern what had happened.

— Hey. Can you hear me? Who did this?

The stranger struggled to pry his eyelids open, whispering that the attackers weren't looking for money or provisions, but for a specific cargo. He managed to mention a prisoner being transported with the caravan, but he couldn't finish his thought. At that moment, the snapping of branches echoed from the woods.

Ciri stood abruptly and spun around, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. An unfamiliar figure emerged from between the trees. She quickly assessed the traveler before turning her gaze back to the wounded man.

— Was this your doing? If so, tell me now. I don't have time for games.

She fell silent for a moment, listening to the forest. The attackers' tracks led toward the old mill, and nearby, the muffled neighing of a horse could be heard.

— If not, then perhaps you can help. Someone was being transported through here, and it looks like the attackers took a prisoner. I was planning to find out where they went. Help me.