C is for Captured
Godwin ducked into a side passage and paused for a moment to sweep the dust from his knees. He straightened his collar and stepped into the light of the busy hallway. It was remarkably quiet. People were there, chatting quietly. A couple men were sleeping slumped against the wall, including Hervey. Godwin sniffed as he stepped over Hervey’s legs and ambled toward his own chambers. He padded down the quiet side hall to his door and slipped in. He’d just wanted his sword and a medallion his birth mother had given him, just in case he would never be back here again.
He found the sword and set it on the table and turned to the trunk in which he hid all his favorite memorabilia. Stale air poured out as he opened the lid. Times Godwin only vaguely remembered were buried within, from before his mother delivered him to Bertram. Godwin dove in, digging to the bottom and searching with his fingertips for the tiny wooden box. There it was! He withdrew it and smiled at it, wiping the greasy patina of age off the script on the front. He opened the box, its hinges struggling against him, to expose a tiny silver enameled medallion inside.
A slight breeze touched his neck. “Lovely,” a voice murmured.
Godwin snapped the case closed and spun. A ragged man in worn armor stood in the doorway, smirking.
“My Lord,” said Godwin. “How may I help you?”
“I am Grant,” the man said as he stepped into the room, the metal plates of his armor scraping past each other. “I serve Chancellor Aldred.”
“Indeed,” said Godwin. “And why does the servant of Aldred visit these motley chambers?”
“Are you not Godwin?”
Godwin cocked his head. “These are Godwin’s chambers,” he said. “And I’m in here.”
Grant stepped closer. The door swung wider and two more armored men stepped in. “Are you not the son of Bertram?”
“The worthless one,” said Godwin.
Grant froze. “Worthless?”
“I’m a bastard son, my Lord. Truly no one.”
“I see,” smiled Grant.
Godwin cocked his head again, expecting something more.
Grant exploded into motion. Godwin put his hands up, but too late to shield his face from the back Grant’s armored fist.