Berchthold looked out from the battered parapets.

His eyes were stuck to the figure of Adebar von Bolstedt, straight and unbowed.

The man seemed confident, almost unhampered by the hip-high snow on the road, invigourated by some unknown power. Von Bolstedt had spoken little, said something about unfinished business in the west, even refused an offer to stay in Gostahof for the winter, at least until the snow melted.

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“Sigmar will provide, '' he’d said. Berchthold shook his head, watching the Reiklander disappear on the forest road. Somehow he was sure the gods would see the man to his destination, wherever it may lay.