A leaf fell from one of the great trees above, its sable silhouette shrouded by the night's gloom. The forest felt tranquil in its unnatural silence, utterly devoid of sound save for the soft rustling of branches in the wind. The sudden crack of a twig snapping underfoot broke the silence. In comparison to the bustling streets of Paterdomus, ever illuminated beneath the sun or the grand night-fires atop the temple, this dark wood was another world. Some no doubt would call it serene, but ever foreboding tree and shadow only served to spur the scout onwards by sheer terror.

After all that he had seen in these wilds, William was unable to rest. For no less than a day and a half he had relentlessly made his way back towards civilized lands. At last, to his joy, he came across a watchtower atop a deforested hill. The square tower was crudely built from the logs of nearby trees, and inside a garrison of two or three men kept watch. Several similar watchtowers were nearby, surrounding a moat-and-bailey castle that served as the forward outpost and base of operations for the invading crusaders. As the scout approached, he saw that the watchers were nowhere to be seen. Unsettled, he continued the trek towards the keep.