Chapter One

It was the middle of the night when they came for her. Horses stampeded against the cobblestones and men went door to door, banging and yelling. At first, Gwen thought that soldiers from Landau had overwhelmed the fort and come to slaughter.

So did Hannes, her stepfather. He was not a military man, but he stood at the door with a short spear in hand. He was shaking, but he smiled at his children with a false courage. There were seven of them children in total, but there were many other families sharing this room too. Some of the other men had ‘weapons’ of their own --simple farm tools, really. A few hoes, a broken rake, several hayforks. What they needed were swords. Guns.

Gwen could feel the shortness of breath; the crackle of doom. And the shouting was getting closer. Outside, she could hear the cannons start firing, their thunderous boom, rising above the rest of the clamor.

If the enemy is inside, who’s firing the cannons? Gwen's heart paused and she thought about it. The cannons were bolted to the stone. They could not be rotated inwards. Why would Landau fire upon themselves?

The soldiers reached the room next door. They heard the door break and several people scream. There was shouting --the bark of a command, most likely-- and then sobbing.

Then came the pounding on their door. “Empire business!” a man shouted. “Open up!”

Hannes and the other men white-knuckled their weapons as Gwen and her mother fought fruitlessly to soothe frightened children with the other mothers.

An axe buried itself in the door, splintering the wood. Hannes shifted a couple steps to the side and took several deep breaths. Gwen's eyes refocused on the door as she manically smoothed the hair of Brigita, her younger sister.

The axe struck again, embedding itself in the crossbar. “Open up!” a man shouted again. “We’ve come for Van Goch!”

Gwen’s mother looked at her, wide eyes misty even in the dim light. In all of Vestfalya, there was only one Van Goch: the young Mistress Gwenhwy, more commonly known as simply Gwen.

The door splintered again, the hole growing wide enough to hold a child’s face. One man with a hoe tried jabbing through it.

Someone on the other side broke the tool’s head. The man thrusted it again, and the weapon was seized through the hole.

“Surrender your arms and no one dies. We are not the enemy,” a voice called through the door.

The fathers in the little room looked around at each other. Some lowered their weapons, some shifted their grip tighter.

The axe swung again, splitting the crossbar nearly in half. The men outside shoved against it once, twice, four times, before the door was flung inwards. Hannes quickly tried to impale the man in front with his spear. The tip glanced off the armour and the man behind him caught it, snapping the spear in half. The man in front pointed his sword at Hannes and advanced until Gwen's stepfather was against the wall.

A knight in the Empire’s surcoat --a white horse rampant over a royal blue background-- entered the room. “We are not the enemy,” he said calmly. “We are here by the Emperor’s command to retrieve the Van Goch heir. Do you have information?”

“What will you do with them?” Gwen asked.

“They have been summoned to Essen.”

With a shaky breath, Gwen stood, her mother snatching at her arm and digging her nails in. “I’d like to take the people here with me,” Gwen said.

“Your name, child?”

“Gwenhwy Havenna Van Goch. My father was Ruard Maximillos Van Goch. The Van Goch family is, always, at the Emperor’s service.”

The knight knelt and took her hand. “Princess Van Goch, it is paramount that you come with us,” he said, standing.

“I’m not a princess.”

“We’ll explain on the road.” He tugged lightly at her hand. “Please, we don’t have time.”

“I’m bringing my family,” Gwen insisted.

He scrutinized the crowd. “There’s too many. We must travel light. We’ll arrange for them to follow.”

“I’m not leaving them.”

“We don’t have time for discussion,” the knight said, gripping her arm and pulling her towards him.

“No!” Gwen shouted, fighting to grab her mother --a sibling --somebody.

“We don’t have time!” The knight barked. He shook her and forced her to look at him. “We need to leave. Now.”

“Gwen...” her mother said gently, voice shaking. “Take Thommie and go. We’ll be behind you.”

“M-mother...?”

“Is this okay, Sir Knight?”

“Grab the baby. Let’s go.” He released Gwen who was quickly hugged by her mother, then handed a baby swaddled in several cloths.

“Feed him four times a day. He’ll sleep when he needs to. Good luck,” her mother said. She kissed Gwen’s forehead. “We’ll be behind you.”

“I love you, Mama,” Gwen choked out. “All of you...”

“May Freyr and Tyr look out for you.”

“And you.”

The knight grabbed her arm again and quickly guided her out of the room. The knight and his soldiers half dragged her through the fort to one of the cellars. They brought her inside, through the cluttered shelves and rows, and then into a narrow, damp corridor. There wasn’t even a single lamp or candle for lighting.

She and the men shuffled along the mossy walls for what felt like ages. Eventually, they surfaced one by one from the earth’s belly. Gwen gazed at their surroundings --a tidal pool beside a river. There were several horses and two more knights in the Empire's colors.

A man lifted her into the air, and then onto a horse. She nearly dropped her brother. She sat on the horse with a straight back and tried not to shake as she shuffled to grab the saddle horn with a clammy hand. One knight took her reins and tied them to his saddle. Another knight smacked her horse on the ass and it took a few steps. The knight with her reins waited until everyone was saddled, then sounded the order "Onwards!"

The horses lurched, almost jumping immediately into a gallop.

The company disappeared into the night, the fort --and Gwen's family-- growing steadily farther behind.