The morning sun bathed the horizon in soft hues of gold and crimson as Anna and Heimrich approached the towering walls of Würzburg. The city stood like a fortress, its stone ramparts weathered by years of conflict and time. The gates were open, but the path to them was choked with a throng of people waiting to gain entry. Merchants with heavily laden carts, peasants carrying bundles of goods, and weary travelers shuffled forward in a slow, serpentine line. Interspersed among them were gaunt, hollow-eyed figures—the homeless and destitute—drawn to Würzburg by the faint hope of a new beginning.
Anna and Heimrich joined the queue, their presence blending easily into the eclectic crowd. The air buzzed with muted conversation, occasional arguments, and the lowing of oxen yoked to creaking wagons. After more than an hour of slow progress, they finally arrived at the gates, where two guards in chainmail and tabards bearing Würzburg's crest stood watch. Their eyes, sharp and calculating, betrayed a hint of corruption, the expectation of a bribe as natural to them as the morning sun rising everyday.
"Names and purpose?" one guard barked, his gaze narrowing at Heimrich.
Heimrich's lips curled into a faint smile. "My sister and I seek lodging in the city," he said smoothly. "We are travelers looking to trade our skills and labor."
The other guard crossed his arms, his tone laced with skepticism. "We've never seen you before. What skills could the likes of you possibly offer?"
Anna glanced at Heimrich, sensing the guards' hostility. Before she could speak, Heimrich stepped forward slightly, his movements measured. "Hard work and expertise are their own proofs, are they not? But…" He reached into his pouch and produced two silver coins, pressing them discreetly into the hands of each guard. "It seems that the demands of guarding such a fine city must leave you parched. A warm meal and a cold beer later might help ease the burden."
The guards exchanged a glance, their suspicion giving way to understanding. One pocketed the coin with a grunt of approval. "See to it you don't cause any trouble," he said. "Welcome to Würzburg."
The guards not paying any more attention to them, Anna and Heimrich passed through, stepping into the bustling heart of the city. The streets appeared alive with activity: vendors hawking their wares, children darting through narrow alleys, and townsfolk going about their daily routines. But beneath the surface, a closer look revealed hunger-stricken faces, filthy rags hanging from skeletal frames, and the hollow-eyed stares of the desperate. Slaves shuffled by under heavy loads, their backs bent and spirits broken. The cobbled streets were littered with filth—animal droppings, discarded scraps, and even human waste. In the shadowed alleys, figures lurked—their eyes darting and hands ready for mischief, embodying the city's darker underworld society.
The city's architecture in general spoke of its medieval roots—wood-framed houses with overhanging upper stories lined the cobbled streets, their windows adorned with flower boxes. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, mingling with the scent of fresh bread from nearby bakeries and the tang of iron from a blacksmith's forge.
Anna's gaze wandered, taking in the sights with a mixture of curiosity and familiarity. "There's a tavern not far from here," she said, pointing down a side street. "Let's find a place to rest before we explore further. Not every establishment is worth the coin, and I can tell a good one at a glance."
Heimrich nodded, following her lead. They passed several inns and taverns, their signs swinging gently in the breeze. Anna paused in front of one, a modest yet well-kept building with a sign depicting a golden stag. "This one," she declared. "Trust me, I know what to look for."
Inside, the atmosphere was warm and inviting. The dining hall was filled with sturdy wooden tables and benches, and a roaring hearth cast flickering shadows on the walls. A few patrons were already nursing tankards of ale, their voices low and amiable. Anna approached the innkeeper, a burly man with a kind face.
"A room for two," she said. "How much per night?"
Heimrich raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised by her decisiveness.
"Ten copper," the innkeeper replied. "Breakfast is included, but dinner and drinks are extra."
Heimrich handed over the coins without hesitation. The innkeeper gestured for them to follow, leading them upstairs to a small but clean room. The space was simple—a single window overlooking the street, a modest bed with a straw-stuffed mattress, and a wooden chest for belongings. A woven rug covered part of the floor, and a faint smell of lavender lingered in the air.
After unpacking their sparse belongings, Heimrich turned to Anna. "It's still bright outside. Let's explore the city and gather information. First we need to understand more about this place and where to find that bastard son of Eberhart."
They ventured back into the streets, their footsteps echoing on the uneven cobblestones. The city unfolded before them like a tapestry, each thread revealing a new facet of medieval life. They passed a bustling blacksmith's forge, where sparks flew as a smith hammered glowing metal into shape. Nearby, a baker pulled golden loaves from a stone oven, their aroma tantalizing. A cloth merchant displayed rolls of coarse linen and wool, their rough textures a reminder of the era's simplicity. Heimrich noted how the lower classes bought fabric to sew their own garments, often reusing the same cloth multiple times, while the wealthy employed skilled tailors.
As they meandered, Anna with her regained cheerful attitude began striking up casual conversations with townsfolk, inquiring about Würzburg's lord and his household. One name surfaced repeatedly: Friedrich, the bastard son of Eberhart von Falkenstein.
"The boy's mute," an elderly woman said, her hands busy mending a net. "Poor thing. He visits his mother's grave every day… the cemetery's just west of here. She named him Friedrich, hoping he'd bring peace to this land. A tragic name, as it is well known that he is despised and mistreated by Eberhart's legitimate wife. People say he wasn't born mute, but became so during his childhood. The poor lad…";
Anna exchanged a glance with Heimrich, who nodded thoughtfully.
Anna exchanged a glance with Heimrich, who nodded thoughtfully.The two made their way to the cemetery, guided by the directions they had gathered from the townsfolk. The graveyard lay west of the city, a somber stretch of land enclosed by a low stone wall. They wandered among the weathered tombstones, searching for the final resting place of Gertrud, the maid and mistress of Eberhart. Her name, whispered with pity by the townsfolk, lingered in their minds as they scanned the inscriptions. Yet, despite their efforts, they found no grave that seemed to match.
Around them, other mourners paid respects to their loved ones. Among the grieving figures, one stood out. A man, dressed in noble attire of faded blue, knelt before a crude grave marker. The color of his clothing marked him as someone of wealth or nobility, far beyond the reach of the common folk. Yet, the garments were too small for his frame, as though he had long since outgrown them. Despite being well-kept, the fabric showed signs of age—the dye had faded, the seams frayed, and some stitches had begun to unravel.
Heimrich's gaze lingered on the man, his curiosity piqued. Leaning slightly toward Anna, he murmured, "That's unusual. Let's speak to him."
They approached cautiously. The man, who appeared to be in his early thirties, remained kneeling before a makeshift grave. The marker was no more than a bed of small stones surrounding a larger one, upon which the word "Mother" had been crudely etched.
Heimrich cleared his throat lightly to announce their presence. "Are you Friedrich?" he asked, his tone careful yet direct.