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possibly die for. Pale, golden
tresses coiled from inside the hood, framing her
delicate face; lucent green eyes stared back at him,
fear evident in their emerald depths. A glimmer
within hinted at tears unshed, while the ruddiness in
her cheeks presupposed otherwise. Smudges of dirt
blemished those features, doing nothing to detract
from the loveliness inherent within. She bit her lip,
saying nothing, trying to appear brave he knew, but
still a little girl frightened and crying inside.
Deeming herself ready for the world and all its
wonders, she had run away half a season ago from the
comforts of hearth, home and family, to experience
all those wonders. And she did. Not a fortnight had
passed then before she had been taken in by a
less-than-reputable lord, and his hospitality had
turned into something that had the obvious stench of
imprisonment. Confined to the bounds of his isolated
retreat, she soon realized the vast elegance he had
showered her with had a gilded tinge to it. Denied
the freedom even
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to send word to her family, her fear
grew daily, as did her new benefactor's umbrage of
her. It had taken Longshanks weeks to track her down,
through scrying means both mystical and mundane,
leagues away from her last known location.
Accompanied by the Irish stalwart and scoundrel,
Timothy O'Cuire, he had located the keep of one
Sieghard of Schür stab, whom, he had on the good
authority of the Burgomaster of Lübeck, the girl
had last been seen in the company of. Schürstab,
a local nobleman of some fame, was also rumored to be
a Raubritter,
a ruthless robber-knight who
preyed upon the stolen riches of others for
sustenance. Once a brother of a mighty order, the
Knights of the Hospital of St. Mary of the Teutons,
the blackness of his heart had led him down a foul
road to pillage and rapine, and he had been cast out
for it. Now, Sieghard had come home to the Holy Roman
Empire from Prusiaski, as Raubritter
and plague to the land. The fortress was a small but
imposing one, a Wasserburg nestled in a small
vale
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