The moist air clung onto the Nichtburger plains, with dew and mist shrouding the coast in silence. Not that Derek wasn't used to the serenity, for his lineage had cultivated these fields for many decades. The village he was born and bred in grew the healthiest potatoes near Doef, and despite the common lifestyle, he was content. He recited to himself a quote he memorised many years ago. better is bread with a happy heart, than wealth with vexation. Every time he researched Economics and heard that quote, it reminded him just who perfect everything is.

Surely no-one could want, or need, more than this?

He continued cultivating his fields, ignorant that by the end of the week his world would be turned into chaos and ruin.

The streamlined ships cascaded through the tide, unwavering in their course. These men had become shrewd navigators, thought Mob the Prouder to himself, but what of fighters? Soon that would be answered. The fog was still heavy, so heavy in fact they could barely see 5 metres ahead of them, so when the first ship snapped into a sudden halt it almost cracked instantly. Men flurried into action, vaulting onto the beach and marching further inland. Weapons, horses and ammunition were flung down and spread about, and soon the vast cohort was ready and eager to advance. Mob stood on his ship above them all, the Rebirth. And he smirked in anticipation.

For he loved nothing else than to steal husbands and parents from the mourning. Today he will bring riches and glory to the Berks.