The dwarf Zoltan Chivay is a close friend of Geralt's and mine, met while we were sneaking through the forests and wilderness of Brugge and Sodden, when war raged all around and the hooves of Nilfgaardian cavalry thundered on the high roads. Like many of his kin, he later fought at Brenna in the Mahakam Volunteer Detachment, a unit that contributed greatly to the victory, although this fact is sadly ignored by most chronicles. After the war he wanted to start a business, and even thought about taking a wife, yet fate had things arranged a bit differently. Zoltan had proved his friendship to the witcher many times, eagerly standing at his side in any moment of need, disproving those who claim that each and every dwarf is a spiteful, aggressive son of a bitch, that they do not care for human plight and that coexistence is impossible. I know many nonhumans and if anything stands in the way of coexistence, it is human ignorance, spite and ungratefulness.
They say a dwarf would get himself hanged for a friend, but Zoltan was in my company on the scaffold for another reason. The local authorities had accused him of colluding with the Scoia'tael, and that is usually enough to earn one the main role in entertainment like a morning execution.
The charges that Zoltan had contacts with the Squirrels were not entirely baseless. Though he did not actively participate in military action, the dwarf knew the unit's leader, Iorveth, among others.
It was not surprising, really, that, having encountered the aforementioned human spite and ungratefulness at every step, Zoltan sympathized with the dwarven and elven freedom fighters. He was balanced in his views, however, and valued loyalty to old friends above all else.