The sound of the wind echoed along the hall, gusts bouncing off of the stone walls as they ran to greet the ears of the four remaining occupants of the small castle.<br/>The castle had once been spectacular, a decade ago or so, full of life, with rolling hills of green grass that never seemed to end on either side, meeting small farming communities which housed many of the castle's servants and families, as well as any livestock they depended on. But now, it appeared desolate, long been abandoned once rumours of incoming armed riders had arrived with the start of winter. Many of the servants, spare a few of the elder, most loyal of her companions had fled, taking any sign of life with them as they fled to neighbouring countries, near and far, chancing their luck at a new life instead of waiting to inevitably be slain, where their life would meet it's end in a pool of their own thick and bitter blood.<br/><br/>It seemed traitorous to her, to flee every memory or milestone that the castle had seen her achieve, leaving the last remaining loyal subjects to meet their maker alone.  They were all she had, her family had succumbed to disease and raids when she was but a child, and she had been forced to grow up in the blink of an eye, all the responsibilities of running a small country and an estate weighing down her shoulders from a young age as she ruled alone. Her parents had died before she was of an acceptable age to be married off, and it had never occurred since then, the blonde fearing the idea of being ruled by a single man, and all the power being ripped from her clutches because of one signed document, so she remained alone.<br/>The young woman was perched by the open window, a pale hand steadying herself on the stone wall as she watched on with pensive eyes as the oncoming crowd of riders and steeds approached with no hesitation, bloodcurdling cries for violence and gore carried by the ferocious wind to meet her, hair like strands of gold attached to her head fluttering around her shoulders and face in an unruly manner.<br/><br/>There seemed to be no hope, it was a death sentence to be sitting and awaiting their fate, and they all knew it. The two older woman had started bawling an hour before and had failed to cease their crying since, listening to their hiccups and the sobs that wracked their frail and wrinkled bodies was something that she deemed worse than the torture she was about to face.<br/>Dressed in fine cotton and silk, and with a made up face and combed through hair, the noble stood out like a sore thumb from her servants. There was no doubt cast in her mind, that once she was captured by the hooligans hollering and hustling towards the castle that she would be used and abused, only given the peace her servants would have been granted hours before, once every man in the cavalry was satisfied.<br/><br/>A small gasp escaped Lady Elizabeth's pink lips and she rose from her seat, leaning precariously out of the window as she spotted another group, a smaller one of oncoming individuals, garnished in different colours arriving from the south and breaking clear of the dense mass of trees there. A small glimmer of hope ran through her as she watched on, the group of intruders turning to meet the new distraction, quickly lifting their spears into position as cries of attack rang through the air, the two sides soon clashing in a demonstration of power and determination, men from either side falling like stones as testosterone levels soared.