Goldwater Family/Wolfram/New Beginnings

"Just... Wait 'ere for a moment, please."

The aging knight leaned back against the closest tree as one of the local servants hurried away, towards the nearby buildings. His fingers toying with his dagger out of boredom, his eyes wandered around the surrounding countryside, finally free of snow and ice as first signs of spring began to appear in the past few days, leading to an increase in temperature. He and his squire arrived only a few minutes ago to this farmstead, overlooking the Bescanon river thanks to its position on one of the local rolling hills. Through a clearing in the woods, he could see men working down by the river, repairing houses after the winter and bringing wooden logs from the forests closer to what seemed like a walled manor in the middle of the small village.

"Ser Wolfram is down at the village, m'lord. If you'd follow me, I'll take you there now."

His thoughts have been cut short as the servant reappeared, leading the visiting knight down the hill towards the settlement. Sounds of work commotion grew ever louder and stronger as they passed by the first houses and hovels, eventually walking past the strong palisade surrounding the lord's manor. There, the servant stopped before one of the halfway-built houses, catching the attention of the retainers working on it.

"M'lord, the Earl of Dawnbarrow has arrived," he announced briskly before turning around and hurrying off again. To the Earl's astonishment, one of the men securing a log in the cabin's wall straightened up as soon as the wedge was in its place, patting his companions on the shoulder before approaching him. With sweat running down the man's face crowned with a shaggy beard and shoulder long tangled hair, nothing but the respect of his companions and a sense of pride in the way he moved gave away his noble origin. Wolfram greeted the Earl with a warm smile, as they shook hands by the wrists and tapped him on the shoulder, leading him towards the main building in the manor, a two storied cabin made of strong logs, with windows so narrow as to be considered arrow slits.

“Welcome, good Ser, welcome! Come dine with me, the sun will set soon and the nights are still too long for my taste.”

Wolfram held the door for his guest as they entered the house, carefully observing any details he could gather about the Eponlli noble. A man of strong stature even despite his growing age, with some grey streams beginning to show in his otherwise dark brown hair, cut above shoulders and tied behind his neck for convenience. His eyes spoke of a clever man, wise and calm, and the wrinkles and other marks in his face of his experience and soldier’s past.

“Thank you, Ser. I hope my unexpected visit doesn’t bother you too much – I am Siegfried of Dawnbarrow, my manor lies nearby. I have heard of your arrival and, to be frank, wanted to see whose new neighbor I was.”

“Worry not, my friend Siegfried – you shall be always welcome here, as is anyone whose intentions are good.”

Seating Siegfried at the table in the middle of the room, Wolfram quickly dropped his old tunic, soaked with sweat, and grabbed a new one off the bench, black and bearing his house’s coat of arms. The room they were in was the largest of both stories – a large, sturdy table stood in the middle, providing place for about twenty people, with an equally sturdy bench on each side. These were now covered with furs of various kinds to provide heat and comfort in the winter. A large fireplace stood by one of the walls, sharing the chimney with the kitchen on the other side. Swords, shields and spears of various kinds hanged on the walls, showing Wolfram’s knighthood and military past.

A maid and one of Wolfram’s retainers appeared, carrying a pot full of hot soup and jugs of ale. Shortly after, Wolfram’s closest companions – last remains of his retinue, who survived through all of Dwilight, Beluaterra and the fall of Foxburg, began to gather, humbly removing their capes and respectfully greeting their lord, in contrast with their rough and scarred outlooks of experienced mercenaries. As all gathered around the table with a bowl of soup before them, Wolfram rose from his seat and lit a black candle before him, praying together with his men.

“Dalai, Black flame, Shadow-mother, Mistress of the Depths. By the hearth that keeps us warm, and the sea that feeds us, we thank you for your protection and guidance. We thank you for this day and offer you this humble gift, may you guide us through these times. May your path always be illuminated.”

“Be blessed by Ash and Sea,” answered his men around the table.