The Lowborn's Rise: Chapter 1
by Noobwriter96
Willibert didn't know what was happening as he was jerked awake from his slumber, drool slid down the side of his mouth with pieces of straw clinging to his tunic. He was just sleeping in the dead of night when he was kicked by his master to wake. The looming mountainous figure of his master towered over him and most of sleepiness was instantly banished. He didn't know what it, we did this time. He was certain he had done all his chores before sleeping in the barn amidst with the farm animals. And it was still dark out.
"Get up" he simply said in that gruff nonsense tone of his. Willibert's master could have been a muscular man in his younger years, but whatever hard muscle had turned and somewhat gave him a bit of paunch.
He stopped dead short when he saw a group of men, burly and wicked looking men. Out in the porch, for a moment a dread fear crawled from his stomach, were they being raided? But no, the men did not see might be attacking they just stood there in the front of the gate.
His master ordered him to follow. And Willibert did as he was told in all his nineteen years of his life.
He was never certain if he had any family or not. Never really tried to wonder, or could he even be a bastard child of his master. He was just on his own. It was as much better knowledge than that.
Upon reaching the gate. The man handed his master ten pieces of copper.
And things clicked together. He was being sold.
He was not alone. Almost a dozen or so serf about more his age or so were there with him. What a sorry lot they were.
And from the look of the men they were being shipped off to some battlefield.
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By the time they stopped, that sun had nearly peaked on the middle of the sky, they had missed both breakfast and lunch and none of them dares utter to say a word, for their caretakers looked like they will discipline them with the pointed end of the swords their carried.
When they arrived was the encampment, no one had any idea, for they were among the lowest and not so bright. Their births were from peasants who poorer than dirt itself. They were not privy to any knowledge of any sort save for work.
They were herded along with dozens of others serfs. They were given weapons and spears. They took of their tunics and were handed with the colors of some lord or other. He didn't recognize f the liveries they were handed. If anything he was nervous.
The weapons that laid out under the supervision of a grizzled one eyed man, who reminded him of his master in size.
A washerwoman with reddish brown hair and freckles, with a cold and hard gaze were cleaning up the discarded clothes of the peasant serfs and was brought to ta bonfire nearby. Will gulped down, as this was the only possession he ever had.
When the steely-looking washerwoman came beside him she fixed with an old glare.
"Hurry up and change, you won't be needing that sorry thing anymore."