Water dripped down the ancient stonework, a slow trickle seeping through the ceiling from the many layers of earth above. Other than this faint sound, little could be heard in the dimly lit cell, deep beneath the foundations of Vizima.

Sven leaned back against the wall, ignoring the damp chill on his spine. The heavy iron manacles hung heavily around his wrists, leading up to a ring set firmly into the wall and preventing him from lying down or wandering around the confines of his new home. Not that there was much to explore, anyway. Three featureless walls, and a fourth comprised of iron bars looking out on a circular hub that led to a dozen other cells. In the centre of this larger room, a small table had been set up, a pair of simple chairs on either side and a flickering lantern sitting on top of it. Two guards, clad in chain mail and the blue tunics of the Temerian Royal Guard, sat at the table, playing a card game and muttering between themselves. Neither spared Sven a single glance.

The young man leaned his head back, staring at the featureless ceiling. A spider crawled across the uneven stonework, meandering between the seams in the masonry as it hunted. The prisoner felt a twinge of jealousy. The tiny creature hadn't a care in the world, save for where its next meal would come from. It was free to roam as it pleased, ignored by the world at large.

A sudden scraping noise tore Sven from his thoughts. He turned to look towards the door to his cell, eyes struggling to focus in the gloom.

The two guards had stood, sudden unease filling their posture as they turned to the entrance to the dungeon, where a new figure now stood. Sven squinted to see the newcomer better, noting the heavy black gambeson, the royal blue hood, and the finely crafted sword that sat at his hip. Stern features glowered from beneath salt-and-pepper hair, matched by a neatly maintained beard that masked his chin and jawline. A scar marred his right cheek, just below the eye. The dark gaze quickly surveyed the cell block, a gleam in the centre of those cold eyes as they caught sight of Sven. The guards, scrambling to their feet, offered a quick, crisp salute before a twitch of the new arrival's head sent them scuttling away. As the echoes of their boots on the cold flagstones quickly retreated, the newcomer strode up to Sven's cell. Keys jangled in one hand, while a roll of parchment filled the other. Those keen eyes flickered to the parchment for a long, silent moment before he finally spoke.

"Sven Arheim of Boggevrieg, is that right?" His voice was hard, the words precise.

"Who's asking?" Sven's lip, swollen from a blow sustained during his capture, made speaking clearly a little challenging. Droplets of blood still oozed from a split gum. He spat noisily, the gobbet of phlegm splattering across the cell floor. The strange figure ignored the display.

"Someone who has taken notice of your activities." The figure in the Temerian armour glanced at the parchment again. "Says here you were captured for the murder of Baron Mergen, one of his highness' oldest friends and supporters. A serious crime."

"Yeah, well, he was an asshole." Sven muttered, bile filling his words. "Pulled back his forces during the last skirmish with the Reds, all to protect his own lands instead of defending the people. Might as well have laid out a fucking banquet for Radovid's men when they came calling."

"Yes, I remember..." The newcomer mused. "The Redanian army advanced quite far into our territory thanks to his decisions. Four villages burned to the ground, including your home of Boggevrieg, am I right?"

"Coward was too busy watching his own back to care about the people that died in the process." Sven growled bitterly. "He deserved everything I gave him, and more!"

"From what I heard, you stretched his entrails out across his banquet hall, before finally slitting his throat." The figure shrugged. "A bit extreme for my tastes. I prefer to be efficient over being elaborate. How did you get into his estate? He was known to employ a large number of guards."

"There's not many places can keep me out." The prisoner grinned, the gaps of his missing teeth black holes in the gloom.

"Clearly." The figure shuffled a few more papers. "Robbing the granaries of Varsten, ransacking Hannel Boromil's silk shipments, the raid on the Blood Wyverns' camp in northern Velen… Quite the record, my friend."

"Boromil was a traitor!" Sven spat again. "Selling us out and jumping in bed with the Reds first chance he got. And as for the Wyverns..."

"I'm not here to criticise." The figure raised the hand that held the papers, a calming gesture. "If anything, you've shown a remarkable dedication to the true ideals of Temeria. Standing up for her people, exacting justice on those who would harm our nation. Perhaps not within the strictest limits of the law, but it seems like you've made quite the career of 'liberating' goods and righting wrongs against the people of this land by the greedy and the corrupt."

The figure moved next to the bars of the cell, dropping into a low crouch. Those sharp eyes scanned Sven's face once more, analysing every detail of the prisoner before speaking again.

"I could use someone with your talents."

Sven remained silent for another long, long moment. He was a good judge of character, prided himself on the fact, but something about this man was utterly unreadable. Clearly he was a figure of many secrets, someone used to hiding his truth behind a wall of assumptions and misdirections. Not a liar, but just not accustomed to giving up the truth straight away. And yet, there was something there, a strong feeling of trustworthiness. If Sven proved worthy, reliable, and not a liability, then he could entrust this man with his life. The prisoner's eyes narrowed warily.

"Who are you?" He asked again.

"My name is Hatzel." The man replied. "Commander of the Blue Stripes."

"Never heard of them."

"No surprise there." Hatzel replied. "We're not here to be well known, to become heroes or saints. We're here to get shit done for Temeria. To fix what has been broken, correct course when things go astray, and put down any troublesome elements that might arise."

"And you want me to join you?" Sven chuckled. "How desperate are you, to come looking for a piece of scum like me?"

"You're not afraid to do what needs to be done, to get your hands dirty when you need to." Hatzel shrugged. "That's more than I can expect from some knight looking for valour, or a soft nobleman whose hands don't know the meaning of a hard day's graft."

"Alright, but there's a slight problem." Sven raised his manacled hands. "I'm due to be hanged in the morning. Geddes himself signed the execution order."

"That won't be a problem." Hatzel glanced back over his shoulder, lips pursing together as he released a low whistle.

Three more figures emerged from the shadows near the entrance to the dungeon, two of them clad in blue tunics while the third hobbled between them, his hands bound with coarse rope, a filthy cloth rag gagging his mouth. His ears were covered in what looked to be some kind of dressing, although blood seeped from under the makeshift bindings. As he drew close, Sven noted the slightly narrower features of an Elf, or a half-Elf at the very least. Hatzel glanced to him again, the light in his eyes unreadable.

"We captured him on the road between Vizima and Oxenfurt, lying in wait with a cadre of his fellows looking for a merchant to rob." The Commander explained. "It's your choice, Sven. Geddes will hang someone for the Baron's murder at sunrise. It can be you, or it can be Balen here."

Sven sat in silence for a long moment, looking from the non-human to the Commander, then back again. The prisoner chewed his lip for a moment, weighing his options. He'd already surrendered himself to the idea that he'd be dead come the morning, but now a new lifeline presented itself, a new place in the world. Finally, after a long silence, he nodded, the Commander smiling warmly in response.

"Excellent. I'm pleased you saw things my way." The keys jangled in his hand, the cell door unlocking as Hatzel stepped inside, freeing the prisoner. "Welcome to your new life, Sven of the Blue Stripes. As of today, your new life begins in service to Temeria, the crown and, above all, the people."

The prisoner was ushered out, his non-human replacement quickly thrown in his place, a few muffled protests escaping from behind the gag before the cell door was slammed shut, the lock firmly bolted in place. Before Sven could even spare a backwards glance to the being that would take his place on the gallows, he was escorted from the dungeon, almost forcefully marched away. As they exited the cell block, the two guards that had so recently been standing watch over him returned, not even looking to their former prisoner as they passed. Almost unseen, a subtle gesture that the inattentive would have missed, a small pouch slipped from the Commander's palm to theirs, the clink of coin barely audible.

In seconds, peace returned to the dungeon as the Commander and his new recruit vanished from sight. Sven found his mind filled with questions, curiosity about what this new future might hold for him. Above all else, curiosity welled up in him about the man he now found himself under the command of, this strange figure who held so much power and yet remained unseen by the common man. The newly freed man glanced to the soldier at his side, this Commander Hatzel's features unreadable as he guided the new recruit out into the night and into the new life he would now lead.