Reichlich Wald

Richter Castle had been built by the King of Reichlich Wald for Wendalmar’s paternal ancestor in 905 A.D. The profuse castle sits alone on hundreds of acres of lush and fertile land high on the mountain looking over all of the fiefs belonging to Lord Richter. Vineyards surround the castle down the mountain in steps. This is how the family had retained its wealth over time. The red wines had always been the favorite of the region and the Richter label was among the most prized. It had been treasured by each royal family from then until now. Not much had changed in the almost 1200 years since the castle was gifted to his family. Sure there had been some advances made in equipment and amenities, which had been upgraded within the castle and the vineyards but life and government was stalled in the past. Wars had been fought over kingdoms and land. The Weisebaum bloodline had a long reign but succumbed to the strength of King Ives Maier’s soldiers in 1756.

Somehow the family had always been able to keep control of the castle. Through every war and every threat Wendalmar’s family always found favor in the current royalty. The castle stood proud and strong for the last one thousand, one hundred and fifteen years. Wendalmar’s father had just passed away in the same chambers the first Lord Felix Richter had. Fitting that it means “fortunate,” as Felix was honored by King Weisebaum with the castle for saving his life in battle. Wendalmar was eighteen and unsure how he could be caretaker to a home and history of such magnitude. His father’s passing was sudden and Wendalmar was the sole heir. He wasn’t sure that he was going to be able to step into his father’s shoes and run a winery, upkeep an aged castle, run the fiefs, and ensure the continuation of the bloodline. The thoughts of pushing forward in life without his father, who had raised him alone, and running the castle in these turbulent times overwhelmed him. How could he keep favor of the current King Lehmann, but still be in good graces with Rupert Fuchs should he overthrow the royal family? He needed his father’s wisdom and guidance in all these affairs, he was uncertain and unsure of himself and his abilities.

King Sabastian Lehmann’s family took control in a bloody battle in 1942. There was a division in the land at the time. Those who believed the Lehmann’s were the original bloodline of King Weisebaum and those who wanted the Maier’s bloodline to stay in power. Here we are today in 2020 and we see history repeating itself. There are those in the kingdom who believe that Rupert Fuchs is the one and only true bloodline to King Weisebaum. However, some in the kingdom believe that he is the descendant of King Zertstörung of the rival lands to the north, Hölle Ewig. The fear is Fuchs will bring the annihilation of Reichlich Wald and all its people. Wendalmar thinks, or more hopes, the angst and suspicion of the people is not different than what was felt in 1942, but that somehow doesn’t ring true with him.

Miss Lange put her hand on Wendalmar’s shoulder and he melted with her touch. He hung his head and let the tears flow silently down his cheeks. Miss Lange was the closest thing he had to a mother, he felt no shame in her seeing him cry. “You have the next few minutes child, then you must become a man and dry up the eyes and tend to the business at hand.” Miss Lange kissed the top of his head and left the room. Alone now, he got up from the chair and knelt by his father in the bed, taking hold of his hand and resting his forehead on the edge. He prayed for his father’s soul and for the bountiful succession of the Richter family and he prayed for King Lehmann and for the Kingdom of Reichlich Wald. Wendalmar stood up, staring at his father’s face for the last time and sorrowfully pulled the linen up over his father’s head.

Wendalmar opened the chamber door and exited. Mr. Keller had been waiting outside the door and bowed low, “I deeply grieve for your loss Duke Richter, but the King must be informed immediately so that he can title you as Lord Richter.” Mr. Keller was his father’s serviceman from the time his father had turned five. He was elderly, thin and tall with feathery gray hair, but he had the strength of an ox. Mr. Keller extended his arm to usher Wendalmar into the study. Lying on the rug in the middle of the room was their Irish Wolfhound Otto. Wendalmar patted Otto on the head as he walked past to the desk. Lowering himself in his father’s chair he pulled out the pen and paper and wrote a letter with the details of his father’s passing.

Having sealed the letter he left the castle for the stables nearby. Once there he found Walter shoeing one of the new Dutch Draft horses that his father had acquired. Handing Walter the letter Wendalmar instructed him, “Rush this to King Lehmann, don’t be nosy and don’t be a gossip. Straight to King Lehmann and straight back with his reply. Do you understand?” “Of course, Your Grace.” Walter put down the foot of the horse, grabbed his leather satchel from the post and put the strap over his head resting it on his shoulder. Walter was fourteen and was loyal to the Richter family. He had come to the Castle when he was only two with his father who managed the workers for the vineyard. Walter opened the flap of his satchel and held out his hand to receive the letter. “Your Grace, it will take me some time. I cannot go through town, I must skirt around the caves of the trolls to the east.” “Why is that Walter? That is dangerous territory.” “I am afraid that the route to the Kings Castle is more dangerous. When I was in town yesterday, a poster was pinned to a tree in the center of town at the Playground of the Fairies. Its caption stated that Kings Path was being monitored by Fuch’s men. I fear that you do not want them to read the contents of your letter or to know that Castle Richter has been delivered tragedy.” “That is wise beyond your years Walter, make haste and be mindful of all your surroundings. I will await for your return.”

Wendalmar watched Walter mount his horse and race off. He worried about the boy, darkness would overtake long before he even reached the Caves of the Trolls. He hoped he would be smart enough to stop before then. This news of occupation by Fuch’s men was seriously disturbing, cutting off the people in his Feifs from the King could destitute his district. His mind caught on the idea of it being “his” district. He wondered if it was wrong that he so easily fell into possession of his father’s domain so quickly. He ultimately told himself it was proper and was the first step in a long uphill transition for himself and the people for which he was an ambassador. He desired peace but war was on the horizon.

Another book possibly!