"M'lord, our scouts report people approaching." The sentry remarked, huffing what breath he could in his oversized paunch. If his father had given him less able men, he wouldn't be able to clear a pantry much less a forgotten keep. Even as he had the thought, he knew it was unfair to some of the men that had been conscripted, but he knew that his father had no done his best to give his bastard the best. A part of him wondered if this wasn't simply some plot to get rid of him. 

Balidvar lifted his rump off the log he and the Captain had been sitting on, standing to his impressive height. His rugged chin and hard eyes weren't reassuring to the sentry. "Well soldier, perhaps that's because we're expecting people to join our expedition. Are they wearing Nilfgaardian uniforms?" 

The sentry stuttered, looking back twice before answering with his jowls. "I wasn't informed sir." The proclamation brought a black look from Balidvar that made the sentry lowered his head. The man had likely been a provincial militiaman before he'd been commandeered to be apart of a covert invasion essentially. Well, that either meant they were being attacked and would all be dead, or their guests had arrived. A quick gesture with Balidvar's head sent the sentry off again. 

The next person to appear wasn't a Nilfgaardian, but it wasn't someone he expected to see either. A woman of darker complexion. Did he see some Nazairi in her? "If you're a Temerian, then you're most welcome." Balidvar said, giving a quick jerk of his hand. After a moment, it would be clear he was indicating to the cauldron of soup they had to provide for the newcomers. As he did so, he saw someone else. 

If he hadn't expected the previous newcomers, he nearly fell over when he saw her. There was a shake of his head and a sigh, but he was clearly pleased. "Avery. I haven't seen you since..." He fell silent, bowling over what he was going to say. "I trust you're here at my father's request? Good to have someone who can perform more than rudimentary spells." Despite his initial mask of neutrality, he was glad to see her. 

Speaking of rudimentary magic, the next two newcomers were practitioners of just that. It was fortunate they were far hopefully far better at the sword and their knowledge of beasts. Witchers would be invaluable for this incursion, but he'd need to keep an eye on both of them. He'd only met two others in his life, and one he found he couldn't trust the hard way. He hoped he was an exception to the rule. 

"Strange company" His Captain commented, and moments later an Elf walked into view, taking great attention to detail at the assorted crowd. Balidvar couldn't rightly blame him. The bastard replied with a "You're not kidding." Before raising his voice to the Aen Seidhe. "Hail friend! Come and rest for a moment. We'll be leaving shortly." He made sure to give the elf his clear endorsement. He'd have no racism in his ranks. Infighting would only harm them. 

"How many left, Jurga?" Balidvar asked. His Captain, a former footman for his father's army, stroked his chin and thought for a moment. The camp was growing packed, with men gathering equipment and hauling packs upon their shoulders once more. A few of the lads had to be kicked into getting up from their breaks, cursing to the heavens. Jurga attempted to reply. "I believe there's-" 

He was interrupted by a red haired woman who called to the whole assembly, asking if these were the people she had been searching for. He sincerely hoped no one of importance had heard her outside of this circle. The Captain called, giving her an "Aye!" as a figure, hooded and cloaked approached from behind her, carefully picking his way toward Balidvar until he stood before him, taking his measure. What the man said gave Balidvar the only smile he'd had since yesterday. 

"I can tell we'll get along, Renar." He said, extending his hand to shake. 

Within the hour, they were off, with bellies full of beef stew and only a few murmurs to give any signs they were passing through. The woods were as cloaked as Renar, even such a sunny day seeming overcast in the canopy that loomed above them. The trees almost felt as if they were marking their passing, and from the stories there had been of the Toussaint woods, they literally might have been. Their trail led them north, past a large gully and brambles, into the slopes of a hillock within the wood, crossing above the incline before they were at level ground again. It was another hour of walking over gnarled roots and sliding between bushes, doing their best to remain quiet until the treeline gave way into rough grass and the sight of low mountains, and a Castle of ill-repair that stood as an immovable specter of the surrounding land. 

"Is that it?" One of the soldiers asked, squinting with the cloud enshrouded sun in his eyes. 

"Dye think there's any other spooky castles round 'ere? A bit off innit." Another replied. 

There was a short wall, roughly teen feet tall and made of stone, surrounding the lower portion of the castle that wasn't obscured by the rocky crags behind it. The gate was unfortunately broken, its wooden frame smashed as if a group of trolls had taken to it with a fury. That would need repairing before much else, but they still needed to make sure the keep itself was safe from brigands or monsters. 

Balidvar waved for all to gather round, his unspoken command clear he didn't want any shouting or raised voiced to bring unwanted attention to them. As they moved, he dropped his pack of laden equipment with a crunching thud upon the dirt, and he unsheathed his saber silently. "We move in from the front. Avery, Nadia, and Renar, stay close to me. You Witchers as well. Once we're past the gate, I need you to search the courtyard and then move into the keep. The rest of you, stay here in the field. Keep away from the trees. We made it through the wood with no incident, but that doesn't mean there's no incident to be had. Best not to push our luck, aye?" 

He waited for the others to respond, and he gave the signal. "Move."