Rygan_Deathblade
Evil
rom an early age the boy had pondered his place among the legacy of his house. Fallen from grace as it was, landed by the grace of the once Kaiser's remembrance of his Great Uncle's sacrifice at the Battle of Breakwater and that grace alone.
Wolfgang knew he was no James Harrister and perhaps he would never be. The strength of arms and divine sense of duty had never taken him as it had his Great Uncle, and he had little reason to suspect it would any time soon. He was fourteen and thin, preferring the sparing moments with what few tutors his parents could afford and the books they brought with them. His father cared little for this enthusiasm and would tolerate it so long as he did not disappoint in his martial studies. The boy, of course, did.
He had grown fond of riding. The animals were gentle and the wind in his hair felt like freedom. A small part of himself held hope this would be enough to please the petty lord looking for a son of legend to replace the dead. It was as futile as the larger part reasoned. Wolfgang had no natural skill with a blade and his nature held disdain for the thought of ever killing another man. How could a knight despise bloodshed? The bruises and beatings from his lessons were tolerable at night by the candlelight as he practiced instrument and devoured whatever books could be found. A Harrister though he was, eventually his father gave up upon the idea of making use of this son and turned to the next.
And so he turned to other thoughts. A paltry sum must exist in his eldest, but only somewhere his disgrace would be hidden from eyes. He looked north, to Kane.
A letter and a returned word later and Wolfgang's father had his plot: the boy would ward with Kane and he would gain favor and alliance. The father spent his coin on finer clothing than the son had ever worn, and styled his hair in a neat slicked manner. Queensport had no interest in a ward, but Eastwatch to the south did. Wolfgang rode with his father until he could see the fields of the village in the distance.
The Duchess had a reputation he was unsure of - fear and anxiety at further disappointment trailed him like a cloak as he dismounted the horse he had been given for the trip. Wolfgang knocked at the door of the keep and prepared to make a first impression.The end of one life had arrived.
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