Colder then at home

My English and my spelling are not renowned for their skill, so please go easy on me


IT WAS COLDER here, much colder, then Lutz was used to. In his home, the green meadows of the Elzas, it could be cold, but not this cold. He sat down in front of one of the Windau Castle windows, and looked out to the fields. The snow covered the land like it was trying to protect it from the bodies and bloodspatter that fall down in these areas like they were the snow itself. The Holy Crusade he was on, had turned out to be quite a drag in multiple ways. Instead of at home, with his wife and kids, he was now here, on the cold Estonian plains, murdering inhabitants who were not aware of God.

It was something that could very well drive a man mad, being locked up in a castle with a bunch of religious zealots, who were only out to kill other religious zealots who didn't want to be killed. He wasn't really sure anymore why he joined the Teutonic Order anyway; he had never been that religious in the first place. Maybe it was because of the inquisitors repeatedly visiting his lands? He had forgotten. 3 relentless years in this biting cold, killing civilians, makes you forget a lot of things about yourself and your family.

But now, just for now, he had some moments for himself. He stood up, and picked up the book which was lying on the able. He dropped down in the luxuorusly decorated Bear-furchair which stood in front of the fireplace in the middle of his personal room. He opened up the book, called The East, and started reading through the pages. After a minute or ten, one of his servants opened up the door, and stepped in "Erhm, ” the man hesitated “Landmeister, do you have some time free? There just arrived a package for you, delivered by a horseman.”

The wind was raging outside of the castle gates, it was hitting the walls of the tired stone building with all of it's power, but it could only crumble it down over time. The horseman had descended from his steed, and had taken of his helmet. It was a Teuton, wearing a white cloth with the famous black cross on it. He nodded to Lutz, and bowed on his knee “Landmeister, I have a message for you” The messenger stretched out his right arm and handen Lutz the package. In a small handwriting, there were letters on it 'To Landmeister Lutz of Straßburg' Lutz couldn't resist letting out an 'Ah!' of surprise. He knew that handwriting.


IT WAS COLDER here, much colder, then Lutz was used to. In his home, the green meadows of the Elzas, it could be cold, but not this cold. Jacques Baptiste, or, as the Lithuanians called him, Frenchie, was squatting, near a dark and nearly abandoned dirt road, which crossed through the farmlands of Koningsberg. It was not a smart thing to be hanging around near Koningsberg, especially not if you was residing with a group of Lithuanian Pagans, but it was the only way to make money. Slowly, tiny white snowflakes were falling down on the ground to form an unity with those who were already there. The Lithuanians were all from Hrodna, and they came here on their own to burglar the rich merchants and knights who were travelling on their own. They didn't pass enough to make Jacques rich, but more then enough to get him some decent food.

He had come here 2 years ago, from his home town of Strasbourg. Or, 'Straßburg', as the Germans called it. After the lord of the Elzas left on this fake 'crusade' to the Pagan lands, he left the Elzas in the hands of the Papal States. It seemd to be a bad decision, as the Inquisitors popped out of the ground like toadstools. Jacques had to leave after they had murdered his heretic Father. If one in the family had fallen to heresy, the rest usually followed. More out of dumb luck then out of intention, e landed up between a force of Teuton Crusaders, who went to the east. He tagged along with them, but did not want to shed innocent blood. And that's how he ended up here, between the Pagans in a cold and snowy forest.

Bronislovas was the only one of the Lithuanians who he could make attempts at convrsation with. They both spoke a few words of German, be it a different dialect. He was eventually the one who accepted Jacques into the group of rogue Pagans, mostly because he was sincerely convinced that everyone in Western-Europe could read. Luckily, there hadn't been a single occasion yet wherein Jacques was actually to decipher letters, and he hoped it would stay that way.
The snow kept falling. Far away, the sounds of a small convoi of travellers could be heard. Bronislovas said something to the other Pagans, in the harsh and unfriendly language the locals spoke over here. They had to keep quiet. There was bait coming this way, it seemed.

Two Germans were riding on their horses, lightly armored. They seemed to be carrying some sort of chest in between them, both of them holding one of the chest's handles. Bronislovas looked at them, with his big grey eyes, and then turned to Jacques and the other rogues. He mumbled something at the other, and then turned to Jacques himself "Abgabe" he said, pointing at the knights. Tax.

:book: Gut, gut.

Welcome to the Mead Hall! It will be nice if you develop your story. :bow:

IT WAS COLDER here, much colder then Marina was used to. In her home, the green meadows of the Elzas, it could be cold, but not this cold. She looked out the back of the open wagon, which was making his way over the road, shaking around like it was being hit by a thousand small hammers. Outside, the road was covered in but a thin layer of snow, in which the wagons' wheels left obvious tracks. The tiny band of horsemen and soldiers who where walking around the wagon were silent, they all had blue lips of the cold. If Marina remembered it correct, they all were from Bavaria, except for the man who drove her wagon, who was from Elzas just like she was. Ever since the convoi had crossed into the Teutonic state, everyone of them had been silent, and all the men did was look onward and march.

Marina wasn't actually from Elzas. She was born in Siena, Italy, one of the rich daughters of the local Duke, who was Jewish in secret. Tuscany was rich, and her father was even richer, but just like any other man, her dad always wanted for more. So he kept getting richer and richer, the house got bigger and bigger, and, as soon as they were old and 'interesting' enough, he married them out to random nobles and rich people. Marina got married with the Duke of Elzas, Luntz of Straßburg. It took some time before they actually managed to understand eachother, and they usually spoke in some sort of hybrid of Italian, German and a little bit of French. Most important was that they finally came to understand and conversate with eachother, building up the most peciluar of relationships. Lutz had obviously fallen in love wih the way younger Marina, but Marina could not stand being around her husband.

She only left because the Inquisitors had taken the Elzas over, and she wasn't able to participate in her Jewish rites and thought it would be better for her to leave the Elzas before one of the inquisitors actually caught her or one of he servants betrayed her for gold. So she called her personal servant, and they left just one day thereafter. Soon enough, they found a group of 'Northern Crusaders', as they called themself, in Mannheim, and she joined them. Now they had been travelling for weeks, and she still hadn't arrived in Windau. She was starting to get sick of this trip.


IT WAS COLDER here, much colder then Lambert was used to. In his home, the green meadows of the Elzas, it could be cold, but not this cold. He was standing in front of his house in the Latvian capital of Riga, and looking at the snow falling down. He was waiting for one of his bussiness partners, who was just bringing in a large amount of maces and blades which needed to be shipped to the Windau and Visby chapters of the Teutonic Orders as soon as possible. It seemed that making war broke more swords then ik took lives, and that was as good for Labert's purse as it could get. He was a natural born merchant, his father had always told him, because as far as his dad could go back, every man in his family had been a merchant.

Lambert was not native to the Elzas region, even though he saw it as his home. Lambert's father had owned a prospering wine trade in Bruges, but soon after Lambert was born, they moved to Straßburg, because the Elzas seemed to posses great wine. And so Lambert grew up with three languages: Flemish, French and German. It proved to be worth the trouble to learn them: as soon as Lambert got on his own feet, he became a link between the French, Flemish and German speaking merchants in the area. He made himself a small fortune, but he also made mistakes. One of them was getting involved with the Teutones, who were seeking for Elzas wine in the area. As soon as he had sold them his wine, he knew one thing: the war of these knights meant big time florins for him. After few months of trading wine, he began to pick up weaponry. The Teutones bought them gratefully, and with lots of florins. Lambert retraced his headquarters to the Baltic: Riga was going to be his new home.

Lambert looked around him once more, and scratched his hair under his hat. 'Damn' he thought to himself 'I need that guy to show up rightnow, or the Hochmeister will have my head on a stake.' Relieved, he saw his connetion appear around one of the streets. The man ren up to Lambert, with his hand in the air. "Entschuldigung" the German said "I didn't mean to keep you waiting for this long, but something very important came in between." Lambert smiled, relieved the man came after all "That's okay, please, come in." He opened up the door of his oversized Rigan house, and led the German merchant in.


JACQUES HAD GRABBED his Voulgier in his right hand, and was looking down at the two horsemen, who where almost right in front of him now. He was waiting for a sign from Bronislovas to attack, which was usually a nearly unhearable grunt or something in that direction. The two horsemen were a big and undefended target, they were walking there as if they were ment to be robbed by the first band of outlaws who were hiding in the bushes. Behind him, six other men were sitting. Some crouched, with an axe, other with a bow aimed and ready to fire. Bronislovas was trying to find others who could be travelling with the horsemen, but they seemed to be alone. At that moment, Bronislovas mae a gesture, slowly bringing his weapon to the ground. As loyal as they were Jacques and the others followed Bronislovas example. Bronislovas looked back, and nodded at the two archers. They both released one arrow, and the horsemen dropped down on the ground.

The men stepped out of the bushes, and onto the path. The path was completely deserted, except for them and the two dead horsemen. They had dropped the chest which they were holding in between them, and it seemed that the chest was shut tight. Bronislovas kicked it once or twice, and the swung his axe on it. The chest did not budge. He cursed loudly in Lithuanian, and turned to Jacques. 'Schloß' Bronislovas said, pointing at the chest. Jacques nodded, and grabbed his lock-picking set out of his pocket. He went to the chest, and tried to pick it several times. Bronislovas was visibly impatient, and would rather leave the road as soon as possible, fearing the Teutonic patrols. After the fifth time, Bronislovas grumbled and said 'Zum Lager', 'To the camp.' Jacques nodded, and stood up. He Bronislovas picked up the chest under his right arm and went back into the dark bushes.