Goldwater Family/Wolfram/Last Goodbye
Last Goodbye
“Who is your master?”
The brigand let out an unhumane shriek as the hot tongs touched his waist halfway through the question, breaking down in tears. Wolfram wouldn’t have guessed him to resist so much, usually the mere display of the tools and instruments was enough to convince anyone to speak out. It seemed like the unknown robber baron knew how to choose his followers as the bound man clenched his teeth once again, breathing heavily, with tears running down his cheeks, but still silent as a fish. The torture took a great toll on the once proud and strong soldier, making him a deformed ruin of his former self, with blood from his injuries soaking into the pavement below them.
“Are you deaf? My lord has asked, whom do you serve?” The grizzled mercenary had an unsettling grin on his face as he pulled the man’s face closer, chattering the tongs before his eyes.
“You still havent’t found your sense, have you?” Wolfram’s patience began to run out. The brigand had been on the table since morning, but so far without success. He was a part of a robber baron’s retinue, that terrorised the surrounding roads and villages for some time already. Wolfram has for long been unbothered by this endeavour, who could say that they have never needed money, afterall. But that was only until they began to raid his fiefs as well. It began with the findings of dead merchants by the roads, their wagons turned over and wares taken. Then the cattle started disappearing and finally, the bandits became bold enough to assault the villages themselves, asking for tributes in exchange for protection. That was the turning point in Wolfram’s attitude and also the beginning of the end for these culprits. It didn’t take long before Wolfram’s mercenaries managed to track this band down, and although most of the brigands escaped, they managed to corner and capture one of them.
“My patience is over. Deal with him however you want, I want the name. Don’t disappoint me, you know how it works.” Wolfram turned his back to the two men, leaving the dungeon and slowly making his way up the spiral staircase. Behind him, the prisoner cried out again, his screams getting louder and louder with every step Wolfram took. He knew he could trust his men, despite their wretched pasts and personalities. These were precisely the reason he pulled them out of various jails and executions all over Dwilight and Ar Agyr.
Walking along the Foxburg’s main courtyard, headed to the palace, Wolfram ordered one of the castle maids to get him some wine, a lot of it. Overlooking the castle and its surroundings from his window, Wolfram couldn’t help but think about the irony of this place - the beautiful woods and meadows were soon to be soaked with blood and tears.
---
“Sir? Sir.”
Wolfram opened his eyes, pushing the sleeping redheaded maid’s naked body away. One of his soldiers towered over him, carefully waking him up.
“What is it?” Rubbing his eyes, Wolfram turned his head to the window, where the evening’s darkness finally began to fall.
“The bastard finally broke. We have the name, m’lord.”
A single sentence was all it took to fully wake Wolfram up. True to his soldier’s past, he quickly put on his hose and tunic, grabbing his swordbelt.
“Who?” He asked in a cold voice as the two left the room.
---
“Can you repeat that? I’m getting old, I must have misheard what you said.”
The old noble looked as shocked and concerned as the poor men at arms before him. Flickering light reflected on the High Grove’s stone walls.
“As I said, m’lord. The Earl of Wolfsdale is dead, his manor razed to the ground and set ablaze. We found the Earl nailed to his own gate, dead and mutilated. He must’ve died slow, even the most experienced men had to turn away.”
Adalbert of High Grove had to take a seat in his chair, his legs suddenly failing him.
“How? Who- Who could do such a thing,” he asked. “Cousin… My own cousin… Such disgrace!”
His knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists, his voice shaking from anger.
“We found a local who saw it. Some poor farmer, but he had a good memory.”
“Who!”
“Wolfram of Foxburg, m’lord.”
A storm flew over the nobles’s eyes, his face hardening with hate.
“That mercenary… May Leandra forsake him and his kin, I curse him! Sound the alarm, wake the castle! I want every able-bodied man in the courtyard, horses saddled and in full gear! What are you waiting for? Go!”
Adalbert of High Grove remained in his room as the castle began to wake, shouts and lights coming from the courtyard. Horses neighed and weapons clanged as the garrison assembled, ready to take the fight to their enemies.
---
“Silence!”
Shadows began to surround the Foxburg as the morning slowly approached, covered by the withdrawing darkness. Unnoticed by the guards at their posts, a small group of men sneaked to the base of the wall, following its shadow. Waiting for the guard at the gatehouse hoardings to pass by before grappling their ropes to scale the walls. Everyone knew what to do, these were no ordinary guardsmen from a local keep, but experienced retainers. Earning their names and experience in the great wars against Yssrgard and Perleone, these men fought under the royal banners, and the command of Sir Jacelyn, before and had no trouble reaching the top of the wall without alerting the defenders.
The guard in the gatehouse didn’t make a single sound as they cut his throat, dropping his body from the walls to gain time. Below, by the portcullis, have stood guard another pair of Wolfram’s soldiers, secretly drinking some ale they smuggled in, failing to pay attention to their surroundings. A fatal mistake, the attackers rushed into the causeway like devils, ferociously slaughtering the two before lowering the bridge and opening the gate.
One of the High Grove soldiers picked up a torch and waved it from the walls, signalling their comrades in the nearby forest. The horsemen poured into the castle like a wave of steel and fire, quickly overpowering the soldiers in the courtyard. Only now have the defenders raised alarm, as the first wounded and maimed began to wail, men and women alike screaming and pleading for mercy as they were put to death. Sparing no one, not even women and children, the attackers flooded the castle, pouring in hallways and corridors, murdering the Goldwater men in their sleep or as they tried to pick up arms and hauberks, desperately fighting for their life. The servant’s quarters have been set ablaze and the door blocked, leaving the occupants to die in the fiery inferno.
Amidst all this confusion, Wolfram and his closest followers rushed out of the palace, wearing various bits of armour they could gather and armed with whatever they could find. Wolfram jumped to the closest riders, drawing his dagger and ferociously stabbing the man in his unprotected groin before dragging him off the horse. Quickly checking that at least some of his men have managed to do the same, he drew his sword and plunged forward, to the gate and out of the castle. His mercenaries followed him, forming a mighty fist that punched the enemy’s line, leaving a trail of both dead enemies and their own, before escaping through the gate. Some men at arms tried to follow the group, but have soon lost speed and realised they would not catch up to them, returning therefore to Foxburg to take part in the atrocities commited.
Wolfram stopped his horse for the last time and overlooked the burning castle, before turning his back to the screams of his dying subjects and disappearing in the woods.
