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Location: Reichskloster Encampment, Ardnamorchuan Promontory
Flanked either side by his honour guard, Prince-Provost Aristophontes Gratian of Lorscheim awaits the report of the maiden-knight Liselotte. She delivers it a little haltingly:
-Our emissaries will return by noon today, My Lord. These local herdsmen have welcomed us without bloodshed. Truly, they will be brought to the Oath and the Light! Yet they are so... primitive and uncultured here, they possess not even the rudiments of war-making or conquest, knowing only to drive their beasts to the highlands in summer and down to the low vales by the forest in winter, with their cattle as their only treasure. They know not even the war-bow or the arbalest, let alone the art of siege. If I may, My Lord - I... I do not think it was wise to come here at all. These herdsmen do not have warfare in their lineage or blood. Perhaps some other land should have been chosen for the Heregeld?
The Prince-Provost is gazing with dreaming eyes beyond the fortifications that encircle the encampment, wooden palisades being sheathed in earth and stone. Amidst the clatter of shovels, stonemason chisels and hammers, the Prince-Provost rests his sight upon the distant forest edge. The Prince speaks:
