Maria Fosdick stood at the rear of Lord Waldos chambers watching the crowd of civilians, a few crossbowmen, and the young lordling himself stare out at the chaos beyond. The battle was over. She could feel the tempo shift when the gate collapsed and knew that it was only a matter of time. She heard rather than saw the death of the single Greatswordsman, his compatriot loyally standing next to Lord Waldo as his partner died. A great defender indeed.

Her dress was clammy and wasd chaffing against her body so that she pulled irritably at it. She had found a long red cloak on her journey up into the noble bedchambers. The irony of her coming here willingly after the number of times Lord Waldo had tried ordering her here so that he might make a conquest of her was not lost.

“Waldo!” called out Lord Gerard, the insult of not using the boys proper rank echoed in the man's tone. “Get out here, Waldo! It's time for you to surrender, my boy!” The voice boomed up from the courtyard and she saw the little lordlings face turn red.

"Boy," He spluttered. "I am lord of Lorch! And he calls me a boy!"

Maria privately thought that she had rarely seen a young man look more like a boy. He was short, skinny, and his face was pockmarked with acne and measle scars. Years of inbreeding throughout the noble family had left him with one eye that tended to wander on its own and his black hair was already whispy. He was hardly a man to inspire confidence in anyone. Yes, boy was an accurate description. 

At that moment the bedchamber door was thrust open and two men staggered into the room. One was Brandt, the smithy's apprentice, and she smiled involuntarily at him. He was a handsome enough lad, funny, kind, and always ready with a quick wit when she had visited his forge in the winter. He was wounded, a strip of white cloth already turning red about his arm, a heavy hammer clasped in one hand. The second man was the priest, though it took he a moment to recognize him. His long clean monks robe was torn, bloodied, and covered in mud. The Book of Sigmar was likewise covered in blood. He too carried a heavy hammer and she could see that the silver had been badly disfigured near the head. It seemed the priest had learnt to fight after all.

"I will not surrender, boy," Waldo chuckled to himself at the joke. No one else shared his mirth. "Come and get me!" He was yelling out the window and turned to see the two bloodied men, taking them in an instant, though clearly not recognizing either of them. "Excellent! More warriors. Come, follow me."

Lord Waldo scutteled to nearby table where he took up a sword and belted it to his waist. He was at least wearing a suit of fine chainmail with a plate chest piece. 

"Jurgen," The Greatswordsman saluted. "Come along, bring what soldiers we have, we will use the tunnel to escape and find my uncle to avenge this defeat. You two, with me." He hurried out of the room on his chicken legs, waving at the new newly arrived men.

Maria felt an instant flash of fear. She had no doubt that the attackers would recognize her from the battle and she doubted they would be terribly kind in their victory. A vision of being thrust onto her back and rutted by a dozen soldiers filled her mind. She hurried after the small group, quickly catching up to the priest who was limping at the rear of the group.

"You look terrible, Father." She said, trying to crack a small smile but her face was locked in a grimace of fear. He did chuckle however and nodded slightly.

"I am indeed terrible m'lady. I may not be cut out for soldiering afterall. My balls may not be as heavy as I had hoped."

The reminder of her cruel words brought a blush to Maria's face and she stammered an apology that he waved off.

"No need. You were not wrong. I have never been a warrior but it seems I may have no choice now."

She gave a small nod in ascent as they continued into the depths of the keep, passing the main door that was already shuddering under the impact of the attackers axes.