The "<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fvietgirlgoesgerman.files.wordpress.com%2F2011%2F07%2Fburgeltz0902g.jpg%3Fw%3D500%26h%3D396&amp;hash=ff56fca1a464179888feccff649371a2" href="https://vietgirlgoesgerman.files.wordpress.com/2011/07/burgeltz0902g.jpg?w=500&amp;h=396" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">castle" </a>had seen better days. It had been built perhaps 200 years ago by the Kingdom - before the dark times. It had been a statement of power and prestige - a small border fortress that could both keep the area safe from the bandits and monsters (that would later overwhelm the kingdom), and also to regulate and protect trade.<br/><br/>The most recent owner, the self-styled<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2Foriginals%2F18%2Fbe%2Ffd%2F18befd175d38c5eb7fcd1c67b3d2aaed.jpg&amp;hash=e0c961a3bcbcd2e026cc1073beb32e1a" href="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/18/be/fd/18befd175d38c5eb7fcd1c67b3d2aaed.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Marcher Lord</a>, had let the place run even further into decay - the upper floors were missing and exposed to the elements, and the basements looked to be flooded. All he'd really cared about was extracting whatever he could from the locals in the form of raids, and - where necessary - human sacrifice to his dark gods.<br/><br/>And so the<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fpre00.deviantart.net%2Fa99e%2Fth%2Fpre%2Fi%2F2017%2F115%2F9%2Fa%2Fhouse_davion___federated_suns_by_tfphoenix-d9oxn1q.png&amp;hash=c43d7c533a86d387a3449aedf34419b4" href="https://pre00.deviantart.net/a99e/th/pre/i/2017/115/9/a/house_davion___federated_suns_by_tfphoenix-d9oxn1q.png" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Company of the Sword</a>had set out to liberate it. Well, in part because he was evil, but mostly because he was rich and because he was there.<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Ffarm5.static.flickr.com%2F4610%2F39745949085_578dc125cf_b.jpg&amp;hash=b966a7367e4c7d2881ecb788f48fbf82" href="https://farm5.static.flickr.com/4610/39745949085_578dc125cf_b.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Sebastian</a>had no illusions about the motivations of his friends. The battle to take the castle had been over for almost a ten-day, and the wounds still felt fresh. The fight had been tough.<br/><br/><i>That was an understatement</i>.<br/><br/>It had been the closest run thing of his entire career. He owed his life to the tattooed woman who was still dozing in the makeshift shelter he'd put up. If she'd not intercepted that black blade, it would've cut him in half. And instead it broke her arm.<br/><br/><i>But at least it would heal.</i><br/><br/>Their friends had moved on. It had been a natural point to part ways.<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2Foriginals%2F8b%2F36%2F93%2F8b3693c2d4d6604aadcf15976ddc4a5b.jpg&amp;hash=f129609c3f951b110b0593f59a4cf48a" href="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/8b/36/93/8b3693c2d4d6604aadcf15976ddc4a5b.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Kendrick </a>had taken her share and was off to the nearest town to invest. Well, that meant wine, warm bodies and song.<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2Foriginals%2F67%2F83%2F02%2F6783028d2103a99df365083396a2470b.jpg&amp;hash=2a4d5805655eb7a3b30e894688edd972" href="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/67/83/02/6783028d2103a99df365083396a2470b.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Khan</a>had felt his blood-oaths fulfilled, and so was returning to his family to go finally settle down and farm... whatever it is that they farmed. The others had kept going. They'd talked about heading deeper into the remains of the Kingdom to find more glory and renown - they'd spoken warmly about returning here by High Autumn.<br/><br/><i>And here I am<br/>
</i><br/>It had seemed like a good idea - there was promise here. And it felt like the proper calling of one sworn to bring<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D_HLNMfCBUb0&amp;hash=4d344ae36d253722466a09ba54dfbf6e" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_HLNMfCBUb0" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">light to dark places</a>. He'd been a blacksmith once, and it felt like a proper place to try and find the peace of the forge again. He rolled up his sleeves - the bandages on his arms and torso restricted his movement, but less than did the armour that was neatly oiled and packed in the 'tent' - and picked up the broom. He twirled it in the same way he would the halberd.<br/><br/>"Join the Order, they said. See the world, they said. Travel to interesting places, meeting interesting people, and them stab them in the face with a polearm, they said. No one said anything about cleaning up ... whatever this is after brigands"