Deep in the snow-laden forests surrounding the river Aare in small cave a young lad stirred from a painful sleep. Fiery embers still glowed warmly just outside the low entrance of the cavern as dawn illumined the east, far from the shadow of the western mountains. He lifted his golden haired head from under the great wolf pelt which had covered him the last night, still half asleep but dimly conscious of a large shadow moving in and for a moment concealing the sunlight beyond. As the boy tried to recollect what exactly it was he had seen, he suddenly realized that he could not even remember his own name.
The War for Christendom 