Summer 1095 SR
Ludwig wolfed down the barn bread, then sipped his watered-down wine. Provisions were growing scarce, so it was a meagre breakfast this morning. The duke’s idea of food was bread and porridge, but the oats had run out, and now only the bread remained—slim fare for fighting men.
He spotted Lord Wulfram making his way towards him and stood. “Good morning, my lord.”
The baron smiled. “Good to see you, Sir Ludwig. I trust you slept well?”
“I did, my lord. Did you come to visit the men?”
“Alas, no. I’ve been summoned to a council of war, and I thought to take you with me. Interested?”
“Most definitely,” said Ludwig, “although I lack the wardrobe for such august company.”
“It’s a council of war, my friend, not a social event. Come as you are. You’ll earn more respect for it
