It was late in the evening. The sun was setting below the rolling hills, and an eerie fog began to lay over the land like a thick blanket.

Count Pierre had kindly welcomed Jacques Le Gris into his large home. It was only on business, and it was now the third evening for the visit from the cruel man. The evening became one like it had many times before, the sounds of the lute playing at the end of the hall and the large feasting table inundated with men and ale.

Count Pierre was sat at the end of the table beside Jacques, who was drinking his ale. "You haven't met my daughter. She is quite the piece of work." The count chuckled and rubbed his brow as his ale was filled up once more.

"Hm? I'm assuming she has hit the age to rebel?" Jacques chuckled and leaned back in his chair while grunting gently. He had been enjoying his stay. Jacques had only gotten glances of the young woman. She certainly seemed beautiful, and he was eager to meet her and ruin her.