The moon shone on a strange island, an island that was neither Norway nor Iceland.
The habitants of this land were dressed in robes that carried the cross with a hairstyle that everyone seemed to have.
They shaved a round patch at the top of their head and cut the remaining hair short all around.
They were in a chapel, a building where a huge cross lay on the wall as they prayed to the God they worshipped.
"Father Uttredus, I have a feeling that God has favoured us above the others…" A young boy, approximately Bjorn's age blurted out but his body frame was nothing like a warrior.
He looked timid and why, always looking to the ground when he spoke as he did now.
"God favours all his children, our God is not biased, Wychard… Do not utter such careless words," Uttredus warned the young monk.
"I am sorry, Father!" Wychard immediately apologized but it was not Uttredus that needed his apology, it was God.