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.
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