Under a Dimmed Sun [UNCENSORED]

SII: Chapter LXI: Acquaintances

The moon hung high in the night sky, casting a pale, eerie light over Wode Castle. Inside its stone walls, the atmosphere was tense, fraught with a sense of foreboding. The peace of the castle was shattered by the sudden and brutal intrusion of foreign knights. They poured into the castle with a menacing resolve, their armor clanging and their swords drawn. The once-quiet corridors echoed with the sounds of their advance.

Knights of Ferdinand of Navarre, son of Queen Juana, stormed the castle grounds with relentless determination. The castle's defenses, though formidable, were overwhelmed by the sheer number of attackers. Peter's loyal men fought bravely, but they were outnumbered and outmatched.

As Ferdinand's knights closed in, Peter was quickly surrounded and restrained. His eyes, filled with a mixture of defiance and resignation, sought any sign of hope, but none appeared. The knights, led by a stern and resolute commander, swiftly subdued any resistance. Peter, dressed in his night garments, was pulled from his chambers with rough hands. His wife, heavily pregnant and in distress, was escorted to the great hall. Her cries of anguish echoed through the chaos, each sound a testament to her fear for her husband, her children and her unborn child. She reached out to Peter, her cries piercing through the din of the attack. "Peter! No, please! What is happening? They're taking you away!" Her sobs were raw and unrestrained, a stark contrast to Peter's own cold demeanor. Despite the personal turmoil, Peter's face remained stoic as he was dragged past her, his thoughts preoccupied with the strategic loss rather than the personal heartbreak.

His wife's anguish seemed to have little effect on Peter, who was more focused on the dire situation at hand. The sight of her clutching her swollen belly and weeping on the cold stone floor was a mere backdrop to the scene unfolding as he was taken out of the castle.

The knights were efficient and unyielding, his hands bound and his movements hindered, he was bound and dragged toward the waiting horses. The cold night air bit at his skin as he was roughly escorted from his home. The reality of his predicament was inescapable: he was a prisoner of Ferdinand's forces, his alignment with the Portus claimant, Afonso V, having led to this moment.

Teresa, now on her knees, clutched at her swollen belly, her sobs mingling with the shouts of the knights. The sight of her husband being taken away left her in a state of utter despair. "Peter!" she cried, her voice breaking. "Please, come back to us!"

As Peter was led away, he turned one last time to look at his wife. His expression was a mix of determination and sorrow. The knights mounted their horses, their prisoner in tow, and the procession began its journey into the darkness.

...

Months had passed, and Peter of Wode arrived at the court in Castile, still shackled and weary from his long journey. Despite the chains binding his hands, he was escorted with an air of grim dignity into the bustling halls of the Castilian court. The grandeur of the palace seemed distant and cold compared to the discomfort he felt.

Edward of Mohn, still in his armor, was present to greet Peter. His demeanor was polite but carried an edge of curiosity. "Greetings, your lordship," Edward said, his voice steady and formal.

Peter, still silent and visibly exhausted, did not respond. His eyes flickered with a mixture of defiance and resignation as he looked around the opulent surroundings.

Edward's gaze turned to the knights accompanying Peter, a hint of frustration in his voice. "Is this country bumpkin mute, or can he speak Castilian?"

The knights, remaining impassive, made no move to respond.

Peter finally broke his silence, his voice rough from the journey and his circumstances. "You are a relative of the Navarre king, pretty man, you both look alike."