You put your mind to your farming. It is hard enough work, after the long cold winter just passed, which had followed the too wet year before. And you still remember the raging armies of a few years ago, which took every edible thing you had, but did leave your farm intact. Today, as every day, you have to feed the animals and weed the fields.
As you leave your house, two armed men wearing the bishop’s colors of red and gold approach you. They say:
"Breschfeld, you are to come with us."
*go along peacefully.