Chapter 2: Old Enemies
The expressions of all the men turned stern, even Sir William stopped smoking for a while as they all turned to Wulfric, who in turned directed their gazes to Albrecht.
"This will be sufficient to explain." Albrecht said as he placed a letter on the table which Wulfric passed on to Sir William who was sitting just to his right. Sir William, nearly sixty years old with a wizened and wrinkled face with a head full of white hair took the letter. He hesitated for a few moment with the letter in his wrinkled but still firm and strong hand but then tore the seal and read it's content. As he read, his eyes turned brighter by the moment.
After reading the whole letter, he turned mute for a few seconds before passing it onto the person who was sitting right by his side, that is, Sir Oswald.
Sir Oswald's expression was a little different as fury engulfed his entire soul but he suppressed it and passed it onto the next person, Sir Ross.
Sir Ross looked a little dumbfounded as he looked here-and-there for confirmation which he got in the form of a stern nod from Albrecht. The last person who read was Sir Yannick who had a forelorn expression. "As expected…" He said as he passed it back to Wulfric.
"I will get to the gist of this situation so that everyone is on the same page. Back in the early phase of the crusade, after the Papal forces were routed following the Battle of Baghrim, the much smaller forces were scattered and outnumbered. Some of the medium-sized forces like ours were stranded in small-sized holdings and castles that we captured during the start of the war. Under constant attack and waiting for reinforcements that never came, some of these small-sized forces changed allegiances. A fact that was hidden and censored by the Papacy and as such, news of this did not reach us for quite some time.
I think after this Sir Oswald knows more of what happened after this, yes?"
There was a moment of silence as everyone turned to Sir Oswald for an explanation. In the meantime, Albrecht caught his breath and wet his tongue and throat with some honeyed water. "Our forces were starved."
Sir Oswald started, his head down in shame and guilt, "following the disastrous defeat in the fields of Baghrim, the majority of the crusading host retreated to Castle Seraph. We lived… but the blow to our morale had sealed our fate. The following days, with the Mamelukes, the Persians and the Keramites advancing on our position, panic broke out and a fire started in our camp.
That fire… it destroyed our horses, our food and many of our weapons."
"What happened next?"
"…"
"… did we dessert?"
"...yes." Sir Oswald's head hung lower than it had ever been. The mood in the room also took a vast downturn. Wulfric too hung his head low and stared at the missive that some of the Wulfrum's spies sent from the dukedom of Halifax.
"Is this why Duke Hendrickson is raising his armies against us?"
"No!"
"!" Everyone was jolted awake when a new voice suddenly interrupted the meeting. It did not come from the main door so when Wulfric and the others turned around, they saw a bandaged and wounded Julian standing near the door with a haggard look.
A little more than 40 years old with blonde hair and bright green eyes, the man looked handsome beyond measure at one time but now, he looked quite beaten down. But not out.
"Hendrickson means serious business. Wren and Duke Hendrickson were enemies from the very start. It was his Hendrickson's forces who set the fire to our camp that night, it was them—cough! Cough! Cough!"
"Uncle! Uncle, that's enough!" Wulfric jumped up from his seat and stopped the wounded knight from tumbling down and further injuring himself. He brought him closer to the roundtable and had Albrecht bring a chair for him.
"Hendrickson is a vengeful fiend." Julian spat the moment he sat down, slamming the mahogany table in front of him for some more dramatic effect. "The man did not like Wren from the very beginning. Their history … our history went deeper than you think."
Wulfric's brows furrowed, a little spark of curiosity igniting in his heart. "Like what, uncle?"
Julian hesitated a little, unsure whether he should speak or not, turning to Albrecht for guidance who gave a firm nod towards Julian. Getting the confirmation he wanted, he cleared his throat and started his tale. "Wren and Duke Hendrickson's history goes a long way back. Wren was a young prodigy of the Marchosias when he sent to Duke Hendrickson's court to be tutored directly under the Duke. The Duke was happy, he was a friend, infact still is a friend to the Old Lord Marchosias. Infact, the Duke wanted to unite the two families under the Halifax Banner but unlike the Old Lord, his sons and Wren's older brothers, Wesley and Willow, both did not like the proposal. As such… on that fateful day, the Old Lord was overthrown from his seat of power and with the help of a different faction.
Of course, the Old Lord was not powerless. He schemed in the shadows and by the end of the year, both Lord Willow and Wesley were slain under mysterious circumstances."
There was a long silence in the room. Wulfric was genuinely surprised but when he looked at the faces of the others, more experienced members of the Wulfrum faction, he did not see any surprise on their faces. Only … guilt.
"Is that how my father ascended to the Lordship of Wulfrum?"
"Yes. Duke Hendrickson had high hopes for your father, after all he had tutored him from the very beginning but going against the wishes of his father and teacher, Wren disobeyed and formally punished the Old Lord and banished him from the castle and Wulfrum. He also broke off all engagements that the Duke had placed on him and married your mother, Brunhilde. Their were more actions that deepened the hatred between the Duke and Wren which finally culminated in the Crusade Wars."
"That fire that decimated our supplies and horses… those were set upon by Duke Hendrickson's spies. They forced us to surrender to the Mamelukes by cutting our supplies off and rejecting our calls for reinforcement to the outer walls.
After we had surrendered and joined the Grand Alliance of the South, Duke Hendrickson regularly pursued our forces and show no qualms to our surrendered soldiers. They butchered villages on their path, just to get to us and when we defeated them, they called us heathens. It was maddening. Just… maddening."
"Is this true, Oswald?" Sir William asks with a calm and wizened tone, his green eyes were devoid of the previous recklessness and was filled with a suppressed ferocity. "Yes," was the answer.
"The reason for this new war…" Julian went on, "is because we humiliated Duke Hendrickson and his forces in multiple battles. We defeated his forces multiple times, we escaped their pursuits and we even manage to have a pardon granted to us by the Holy Pope."
"Duke Hendrickson could not digest these fact and have thus decided to wage a war against at our most weakest." Ross spoke with his hands crossed. "Without Lord Wren here to support us, the morale of troops are at rock bottom and when they hear that the mighty Duke of Halifax is bringing war to our doorsteps, their morale will drop once again. Truly, a brilliant stroke."
There was no doubt on the last part. Even Wulfric, as unexperienced as he was regarding matter s of warfare, could easily see what kind of a mess they were in.
"Very well." Wulfric said finally, catching the attention of everyone in the room. His eyes burned bright in the dim light of the candles, his shoulders turned taut as he declared with voice filled with fury, "Then we give them hell."
"What?"
The others looked at Wulfric as if he had gone mad but Wulfric did not let those disproving eyes hinder him. "Father is not with us anymore." Wulfric said, "but he has left a lot to us. We cannot dishonor him by surrendering before even unsheathing our swords."
"No one is saying about surrendering, boy."
"We sure as hell don't look like we're fighting."
Old man William grumbled at this observation.
"I say we take the fight to them."
"Preposterous."
"Not a chance! Our men cannot handle another long march."
Wulfric did not say anything instead he turned towards his master and most trusted confidante, Sir William. "What r'ya lookin' at?"
"Is it feasible?"
"Grrr…" William gave a low growl but did not answer directly. Everyone turned to William as if expecting him to say something magical but all he did was acknowledge the soundness of Wulfric's bold plan. "Our troops are wounded and low in morale." William stated, turning to the other commanders, "but they are not weak. Far from it."
"Our men-at-arms are experienced and strong, their bodies have been forged from the brightest and strongest of fires. They can handle another march and fight our enemies, if …"
"Money wont be problem."Albrecht interrupts the conversation and when Wulfric turns towards him, Albrecht gives him a firm nod, "The Sultan of Maghreb and the Shah of Khorasan had sent huge amounts of jewels and treasures as gifts and dowries when their daughters were married to your father. I'm sure that would be enough to satiate the soldiers."
"B-but why march to the enemies when we can simply wait for the enemies to come here and die under our walls. After all, the castle walls of Castle Wulfrum is the strongest that we have."
"That is true and that is what our enemies knows as well," replied William. "We might be able to whittle their forces down quite substantially if we are careful enough and can hole up in our castles for a long time if we gather our supplies but it will come at a great cost."
"Just think about this scenario, Sir Oswald." Wulfric looks straight into the shaky eyes of Sir Oswald, the old veteran and says, "think of yourself as Lord Hendrickson."
"But I—"
"Just think that you are. And your job is to break into a castle with near a thousand soldier, all highly trained and highly loyal. Even their castle walls are thick and high and is situated on the side of a mountain making it impossible to either sap their walls or bring siegetowers. What will you do?"
"…"
"The answer is obvious. Shatter their morale."
…
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
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