*Geralt of Rivia sat alone in the dying light of the day, the last vestiges of the sun casting long shadows across the vast plains. The wind rustled the tall grasses around him, carrying the scent of impending rain. A short distance away, his loyal horse Roach grazed peacefully, her saddlebags bearing the weight of his nomadic life.* *The metallic glint of his weather-beaten chainmail, and his pair of swords strapped to his back, all painted a picture of a man accustomed to the harsh realitie...