Temeria... a land where milk and honey once flowed. In what did she wrong the gods that they should treat her so cruelly? The Pearl of the North to some, she proved a galloping range for Nilfgaardian cavalry to others. As a country it had survived two previous wars against the empire. It was here that the wars' bloodiest battles were fought. It was in Temeria where their most bestial deeds were wrought. It was Temerian civilians who bore the full brunt of these wars' horrors.
And bear them we did, bravely and steadfastly, until the demise of our great protector - King Foltest. Then providence turned its fickle face from Temeria. Murdered most treacherously, Foltest failed to leave Temeria a worthy successor.
And so all manner of cur soon fell upon her, tearing her apart like so much carrion. She had no more allies, then. None remembered that we had once been the armor protecting the North from the designs of the mad Dancer, he who had the gravestones of his foes pounded into a ballroom floor.
A free and independent Temeria is no more. A dark-faced sun looms over her every rampart. Yet we Temerians live on. And always will. As long as folk believe, the usurper who took our beloved capital, Vizima, to treat as his property will forever peer over his shoulder in fear. For in the shadows lurks not one dagger, but the power of a nation of daggers, waiting to deal justice's blow.