As he reached the end of a chapter, a slight noise caught his attention. Concentrating to hear it better, it sounded as a rhythmic sound of metal meeting stone. Some-one is in the corridor! Who could that be? No knight would disturb me at this ungodly hour. Memories of the peasant's revolt played through his mind. They had finally braved themselves to come for me. He had always known that those treacherous and ungrateful lowborn  would one day come for him. Steeling himself he rose from the chair -the book fell to the ground- and stole to the door leading into the corridor. By now it sounded as if the unknown knight was close. Pierre gripped the handle of the cast iron fireplace poker tightly. Whoever it was, was now standing right outside. With a sudden haul he pulled the door open and swung the poker in a downward arch. With a deafening clang the poker met stone. The light streamed into the corridor but there was nothing to be seen. Bewildered he finally turned back inside. As he was about to reach for the door when it swung itself shut with a loud bang. With a pounding heart he gazed at the door, not noticing that he by now had a guest. Indeed, minutes past until the being broke the silence. "Been awhile, Pierre."
The old lord jerked around: in the comfortable chair next to the hearth there was his old friend. In fact he sat there in the same way he had died on his throne: his helmet still bore the horrendous dent where a cudgel had split his skull, the chain links between the plates at his side were still crushed and blood stains still soiled his tabard. Yet around his neck there now hung a rusty old chain which reached to the ground. The chains had a lot of odd objects in a smothering embrace.
When Jacques noticed that his old charge was looking at it, he explained. "Every man, Pierre, bears his sins in the afterlife as symbolic burden around the neck. I for instance sinned with my greed. But I'm not here for myself. Your chain is twice as long by now. Your spirit will be so burdened by sins that you'll never be able to find peace. Murder, torture, extortion, greed, insults, neglecting the divine order.... The list is long, my friend, and condemning."
Pierre in the meantime had sat down opposite to the spectre. Stunned as he was, he remained silent and after a while the ghost of the old lord continued. "However it is not to late to repent, my friend. On this most holy of nights, there roam the spirits of Bretonnia. They represent that which once was, is and will be. Show true remorse for your sins and maybe the path to redemption will be opened for you." With those last words the ghost slowly faded with a hearty smile adorning his face, leaving the bewildered Pierre behind, alone with his thoughts.