His lonely voyage was now finished, and Conrad entered at slow pace on the lands of Marche. From the first moment he was struck by the noise and the tumultous movement of the pilgrims in the ad-hoc settlement. From distance, the fortified Chapter House of the Order seemed smothered by a multitude of tents, shacks, small temporary houses, surrounding it from all sides. Small shops were risen in different places, booths placed in the middle of dirt roads and, above all, the shouting. Everywhere there was shouting: merchants advertising their goods, beggars, missionaries or simple people simply trying to make themselves understood. With difficulty Conrad made his way through this stour, and although his coat bearing the markings of the Order provided him a little room, nudges and elbows to his ribbs were unavoidable. Smiling Conrad has passed nearby a monk with a funny tonsure in a dirty cloth shouting in Italian: Redemption is one coin away! Don't forget your eternal life! Give coins and be forgiven from all sins! For 10 coins all your future sins shall be forgiven! Redemption is one coin away!

As he continued on his path, dragging his horse in all the jumble around him, he reached a small plaza, placed there not by an architect or an engineer in urban planning, but by the accidental disposal of the buildings there, where a special gathering was taking place. People, all sort of them, from poor women bearing children to old knights, helping themselves with a walking-stick were listening to a man climbed on a barrell. Strange were the words of the preacher and Conrad stopped for a second, listening in amasement. And Jesus the Jews call him Christ, the man who has reached Enlightment during his life, was married to Mary Magdalena, who was the embodiment of Sophia Herself, the Feminine Goddess, Equal in power to Mithra, the God father. And she bore children, and they are the true heirs of this earth... Aaah, gnostics! Conrad exclaimed amused. I've heard of them before, never met one of their preachers. But the fun was soon over, as an increasing chatter in one corner of the plaza drew his attention. A patrol of Templar soldiers entered the plaza, stepping hard towards the barrell. The crowd was retreating quickly from their path, murmuring. They took the man and dragged him away from the plaza, while he was shouting: You were mislead! The truth is hidden from your eyes... Help me and you shall be forgiven!. Imperturbable, the soldiers took the man to the gates of the Chapter House, removing the people from their path. People in the plaza, quieted for a moment, stood still until the patrol exit the plaza, and them resumed their what it seemed to be the usual occupation: shouting. A female voice could be heard laughing hard, maybe in response to someone's commentary, and Conrad resumed his way.

When he finally reached the gates of the stone building, he was clear it will not be easy to enter. The mass of people gathered in front was too big and too compact to penetrate easily. Crippled and beggars, wealthy merchants with their servants, old timers and youngsters, all were pushing towards the entrance, of course, shouting in all the languages of Europe. Heavy guard was placed in front of the gates, fighting the crowd to overtake the entrance, and one Templar knight was exiting from time to time, taking few people in. His gloomy face and tired moves showed he was doing this for some time now.

Conrad pushed hard onward, raising his command voice, well- trained on the battlefield, Make way! Make way! Taking advantage of the slight softening of the pressure of the crowd, and approached the gates. Noticing his clothes, the guards started shouting themselves and advanced steadily on the crowd, opening a corridor. Breathing hard and cursing to himself, Conrad reached the gates and handed the freins of the horse to one of the guards. He showed the ring bearing the seal of the Order to the men, the single symbol making him known to everyone involved wih the Order of the Temple, and he finally entered the Chapter House. The silence inside was a blessing, by comparison, but it was soon disturbed by the exclamations of surprise of the men. The Grandmaster! The Grandmaster is here! Quickly, brothers, come! Someone announce the Commander! Conrad smiled, regaining his breath: Peace be with you, brothers!

He soon stood in front of a surprised and confused aide of Commander, not knowing what to believe or how to act... he has never met the Grandmaster in person, nor spoke to any of the members of the Council, except Commander Atlan de Gonozal. Conrad gave the man the kiss of Christ and smiled, again, reassuringly. What's that madness outside, my good man?!

The aide in command sighed deep: Pilgrims, Master! What else?! Countless pilgrims! Since Jerusalem is in friendly hands and the Order instated that system of allowing them to leave their possessions in our care and receive them upon arrival, in the Holy Lands, they keep coming. They argue, they fight over a place on the next ship, they beg, they try to bribe... ufff, it's crazy, Sir! And they keep coming! We had to adopt some drastic measures in the settlement, the natives can't find a place for themselves even these days. The food prices have went so high, there were riots. We reestablished order and we did some ... uhm... convincing work, so to speak, with some dealers. But still we have to operate our canteen for the poor all day and night. Beside that, the usual: unauthorised monks and priests from all over Christendom asking for charity, heretics, magicians, crooks, magicians, healers. And the constant fear of diseases, Sir. Sir, we are surely outnumbered here, unfortunately our requests maybe have not reach the Chancellery of the Council. We need more men, more ships for the pilgrims and for the escorts, more resources! The man sighed again and frowned sadly.

Conrad laughed heartily, but sympathetically, and pat the man's shoulder: I'm sure you do a fine job, brother! The resources are always not enough, brother, but you seem to handle it, nevertheless. But enough of this for now, tell me where is the young lad I have sent to Rome. I haven't received any news for some time now about what's going on with that thing.

The face of the man darkened suddenly, and all the apparent pleasure of meeting his Master suddenly vanished. Looking down, the aide in command swallowed hard and whispered: Perhaps you are tired, master?! Have some rest first and a good meal?! Conrad saddened himself and expected some minor bad news, so he decided to not try the man more, his sudden unexpected arrival was enough for the Templar. Fine, as you wish, brother. Show me to a room and send me something from the kitchen. Only what's already prepared, nothin' special for now.

Many days have passed since Conrad was stationed in Marche, giving a hand to the overcrowded aide of command. He was finally informed of what came to here for, and the disappointment of the whole thing prevented him from initiating further attempts to try solving anything. Time heals many, he remembered one of the teachers of his youth telling him, when the quickness of his spirit was dragging him to hastened actions. And here he was, acknowledging silently with a secret mischievous smile the decision of the Cardinal to keep Chrysanthos in his service, and delaying the visit he should have taken, if not in friendship, at least in politeness. He could not have helped with the investigation of that poor lass more than he already have said in his letter, and definitely putting any kind of pressure on the chief investigator would not have helped... the way things in the world are going, this now should be the last of his concerns.

And this day came, when he was sitting in the main chamber, together with the aide-of-command, looking over a pile of requests for transfer from one post to another, and goods requisition reports. The tumult of the settlement was invading from the open window, an omnipresent companion on these days, and the hotness of air poured remissness in their bodies. Quick and often sips of iced wine from the cellars, and hissed swears seemed the only remedies. The door was forced open by an agitated soldier, followed at close distance by two young men, similar in age and confusion in their eyes. No little wonder was for Conrad recognising the feminine face of Chrysanthos, standing motionless next to a stranger, dressed as a priest. Odd the pair was to the beholder, hair in disarray, sweaty faces, and clothes filled with dust, but the look of Chrysanthos facing the presence of the Grandmaster filled the stage. The wondered Conrad was, the more terrified Chrysanthos seemed, and that second when their looks met would have definitely kept the headline of the Templar canteen chats for weeks, if the voice of the soldier would not have filled the room: Masters! Hear these two!, thus severing the suspense gathered in the room.

Catching his breath, the young priest mimicked a slight bow and started: My apologies for intrusion, my lords, God be with you! I’m James, personal secretary of His Eminence Janus Valerius and I have come seeking your help!

As gathering himself from the funny moment, Conrad stood upright and pointed the man to the flagon on the table: Breathe, sit, drink, and then speak! Throwing an evil look to Chrysanthos, he added: You can stand!

As he sat and took a long gulp, James finally gained voice, and started his most disturbing story:
He... His Eminence I mean, received a man from the lands of the Irish, carrying a letter. A letter my master found most disturbing ... he dismissed the messenger as fearing violence would come upon him if found, and then ordered me and Chrysanthos to come seek help in Marche... and to find you...
What was in the letter, did he mention to any of you?! And a dark thought built up to Conrad’s mind, as his recent actions were not distant as well from what it might have been in there. But James raised his hand: But that’s not all... we were nearly leaving, packing few stuff, while the Cardinal was meeting an old friend from Armenia, Palomides I heard the guardsman introducing him, when... Wait! You’re telling me now His Royal Regent of Armenia is in Rome?! News of his appointment as Regent has just reached us! What the hell is going on here?! Conrad frowned and wished he wouldn’t have had all that wine already, so early in the day. James shrug, and continued: I wouldn’t know, Your Excellency, I really wouldn’t, all I know that they were together in the receiving chambers, and there was good laughter heard from within, when the Swiss Guard rushed in the palace... James swallowed hard. Captain and soldiers and halberds and everything. Blocking all corridors and entrances, and busting into the room where the two were... Captain shouted something about confinement to quarters indefinitely... James took a pause, but not long enough to allow Conrad intervene. We, we sneaked out through a small door to an alley, but others were not so lucky... Excellency, help!


Cunt! Conrad spitted, but none could tell if he was referring to a certain person, the awkwardness of the situation, or there were simply unaware frustrations of a monk’s life. And no one present was fit to challenge him on this dilemma. Rubbing his head, Conrad looked at the two, unable to materialise a workable thought. Chrysanthos, and Palomides, and Swiss Guard, and Janus and the Pope gone, and Rikissa, what was actually going on?! Confinement?! A Church official AND a Royal person?! On whose orders and when and how did they took shape in Rome?! Rebellion?! Of whom, of the Swiss Guard?! With the Supreme Commander Izajah gone, why not?! But to what end?!

Conrad turned his face to the window, contemplating the horizon, far away from the settlement, letting a terrified silence fill the room. As if by miracle, the noise of the streets below seemed to diminish, making the void in Conrad head giddily find a resonance outside. And suddenly, the horrifying, tremendously evilish, mind blocking and heart freezing thought came to shape: A coup d’etat! Of course, you damn fool! a mocking voice inside his head sounded painful in its mordacious banter. What would you have expected, silly naive amateur strategist?! All gone, and one peaceful left-alone Cardinal to watch and tend to?! And a poor Regent, not lucky enough to be elsewhere, as collateral damage. Remember Domini Carnes, if nothing else, stupid!

Shut up! Conrad surprised himself shouting, while pressing his palms over his temples, a cold shiver down his spine at the remembering of the bloodhounds of the Vatican, suppressed in name, but not in habits. Not here, not again!

Conrad moved in the middle of chamber again, resolve in his eyes and pain in his chest... If that’s so, then we are deeply sunk in horseshit! Fresh, warm, stinkin... trouble! And the Church Itself, if a Pope is overtrown in a rebellion of his own men! Noticing the blank looks understanding little to nothing from his inner debates, Conrad shook his head, compiling the voices in his head in one speech:
Quickly! Come with me to courtyard! Assemble everyone there! He hurried to the door, but he stopped, suddenly, as hitting a wall, struck by a side thought. Turning on his heels, he pointed a finger an inch to Chrysanthos’ face: And remember me to give you a good beating when I have the time! He continued his path, while throwing a last sentence, before exiting: And don’t you dare FAINT on behlaf of this promise!
As the men assembled, Conrad’s voice raised into the even hotter air: Brothers! We must hurry, time is of the essence. Gather all ships that we have and have them filled with pilgrims. Everything able to float to take as many people as possible! We MUST evacuate all to safety. Natives to take refuge away from the settlement, up North, they won’t be coming after them. The rest, gather all provisions you can find in the Chapter House and barricade the gates. Leave only the harbour gate accessible. Go on, move!
Turning to the aide-in-command, Conrad lowered his voice: Janus’ man and the embarrassing librarian go with the first ship, assign them strong guard and see they reach Templar lands. After I’ve helped you set defences, I’ll leave with the last ship; I need to let people know of the danger and to assemble the Templars. Make no mistake, you are prone to attack, if they realise where those two fled. Their move is based on concealment now, so anyone in chance of exposing is a threat. You will defend the sailing ship till the last breath, and the Chapter House. Go, go, go!

Left alone in the middle of people hurrying to all directions, dramatically Conrad turned his look not far to the South, where the walls of Rome were hiding untold stories: You think you can get away with that?! Hang on, brothers, you are not forgotten! Nor the See of Peter!

When to a fortunate end Conrad reached land again, his patience was almost depleted. All these days he has been stressing the sailors with orders, never satisfied with the speed. Oarsmen have been close to be whipped to keep the stroke high, and winds were in favour, but still the Grandmaster kept measuring with his steps all the deck, from aft to prow, day and night, for the duration of the voyage.

And now, here he was, more impatient as before, chasing everyone with orders and hunting villagers of the small fishermen village for supplies and means of transport. His concerns were many, and none of what happened seemed to ease his fears. He's been away for too long, the connection with his chancellery was now severed until he reached Templar shires, and he had no idea what happened to the other refugees from the Chapter House of Marche. If it is still a Templar Chapter House in Marche, he gloomy thought, before entering the house of the elders in the settlement.

There were poor people living on this coast, but definitely they were Christians, and open and hospitalier to his needs. Parchment and quill and ink, a chair and a table, and finally some wax for the final seal, they have managed to provide Conrad, to his and their pockets satisfaction.

QUOTE:

To Julian of Byzantium,
Protoaskretes of the Empire,

My dear brother,
I don't know if the letter will find you, because long I have lack the knowledge of your whereabouts, if you should still be alive too, God's help. But I hope someone in the chancellery of the Empire will reach you, or, in your absence, shall deal the matter.

Grave things recently happened in the Holy City, and I have reasons to fear the worst. With the Patriarch of Rome and the Captain of the Swiss Guard left for so long, the administration of Vatikan remained in the care of Cardinal Janus. But dire news have reached us that member of the Swiss Guard, answering to God knows who orders, have placed him in custody and restrained his movements, and together with him, the Regent of Armenia himself, visiting the Holy City. By the time I write you these thoughts, God only knows if their situation has worsened or if they are still alive.

My brother, I fear the dark days of Domini carnes have returned, and the rogues inside the Swiss Guard have decided to take the matter under their hands, taking advantage of the lack of power in the Holy City. My brother, you also know the utmost gratitude and friendship we commonly share for the Regent of Armenia, too. Therefore, I urge you: leave the Synod deal the religious matters I know they are debating for a long time now, and help me sort the more mundane affairs at hand. Are we to allow the unholy and the criminals take over?! Are we to forget the most sacred laws of brotherhood, the blood that we lost together in our wars in the East?! Because I cannot. Therefore, I inform you that I'm assembling with the urgency time allows Templar forces to go and guard the sanctity of the place, unless the rightful owners return and deal the matter. I cannot sleep until we have our friends freed and the City secure.

I must also kindly ask you, as I lack the resources and the time, to notify the Court in Armenia of the situation, and to let them know as well we are preparing an answer to that. Also, I know what I ask is difficult to achieve, but I can't find anyone more fit than you to handle. Brother, try finding the remnants of the Vatikan forces in the North and catch a glimpse of their leaders whereabouts. Let them know, if able, what is happening home, make them know the danger and get ready to take action. I trust you, brother, I shall find the assistance in this, for the glory of Lord and the sake of our brothers.

In great haste, God bless you,
Conrad the Humble
by the mercy of God and the will of the brothers, Grandmaster

Conrad mounted his horse, now looking fiercely and ready to gallop after the sea voyage in the unrested bowels of the ship, and quickly prayed: Give me strenght and speed, Holy Virgin, to serve and to protect!, before spurring forward.

Catching at the tack on the mounts head and again on the stirrup Monsignor James halts the Grand Master with a strong and resolute grip.

Grand Master Conrad, known as "the Humble", I have remained quiet for a great time my son.
I need to speak.
I need to know if I may finish my instructions.
May I go with you and speak of the requests of Janus Valerius in the presence of His Beatitude, Sergios?

I have been given questions to ask. I have a voice to make known the last events I saw.

My son, I humbly request you find me along for this hard ride. Otherwise it will be as if Janus Valerius was never heard beyond Rome's walls. I cannot allow that . To do that would be like St Thomas Bennet allowing the Pope's will to go unspoken In Rome while His Holiness was away.


Having spoken his mind James watched for the decision from the Templar Grand Master.
And the first drops of a hard rain began to fall. Large and fast the rain began to splatter the Priests face.

Men already running slowly to escape the weather. Others sat twitching nervously in the saddle wondering at the delay.

Monsignor James simply dropped his hands from the horse and watched the eyes of the man above him.

a moment of great annoyance, almost ready to slap the hand restraining him, before recognizing the face...


Good Lord, are you still here?! Why have you not continued your journey?! I'm not going to the Synode... uhm... father! Look, I'm in great haste, in case you haven't forgot what my deed... I have two brothers to negotiate their release, or a Pope to save his seat!

a pained look, and a troubled mind, and Conrad dismounted, biting his lip hard:

Fine, I know, I know! Your instructions must be carried out, and so are mine. But a witness must be, whatever you shall find in Byzanz... so then I can continue my quest... Speak, father, and by Saint's ordeals, be brief!

With a keen sense of the need for allowing these men of the Second Estate to do their duty, Monsignor James cuts to the heart of the matter.
Reaching into his sleeves and produces the letter that he suspects brought about the unrest to his doorsteps.

QUOTE:
To the highest ranking Church representative currently on Italian peninsula!

With great sadness I must make a protest against the one called Gregory I., currently usurping the Holy office of the Pope.

The words I write are grave, but you will undoubtedly find truth in them. Gregory is guilty not only of sin but also of crimes against the Church, Christian values, honor and truth. He personally participated in battles and killed and wounded many. He lies, insults and deceives. His actions spit at the teachings of our saviour Jesus as he abuses the Church and Christian faith for his own bloodthirsty purposes. He even deceives about him being an old man. I have personally had a duel with him during the Pamplonian conflict and he certainly did not fight as an old and dicrepid man. I would estimate his age below 30 years of age and that is certainly not old. He has succumbed to thirst of revenge and he meddles in earthly politics hidden behind a religious facade. He has even spread lies about the so-called revolt in Korsika that never actually happened. He insults and threatens anybody who disagrees with him, he even excommunicated our noble Queen merely for standing up for the truth. His actions threaten the schism of the Church and destabilise peace among nations.

Perhaps once he was the Servant of God, but he clearly serves someone or something else. According to his own edict of excommunication of our Queen Seíghin he should be excommunicated just for communicating with her, which he did many times after this edict was announced.

With all respect,
Erasmus Luegger
Foreign minister of Ireland

He waits for the leader of the Sword of God to read the entire message.
James, his cowel held over both their heads to keep off the rain.

Seeing Conrad the Humble look up James Asks,

Did you know all this? Are these accusations true?
If they are and if the Domine Carnes are involved I must speak in Constantinople.
As you say my son, lives are at risk. So is the Mother Church!

Dare I even whisper....What if His Holiness is Domine Carnes?
His early actions against them only a cover to secure his supremacy among them!
And their silence.

By alI that is Holy I need a fast ship to Constantinople!

It was cold in this morning on the shores of Italy, and a thick fog was crawling like a lazy beast over the coast, making men and animals alike appear ghostly. Conrad set foot first on the small beach, and sneezed loudly, cursing the weather. God, why couldn't you grant me a sunny day today?! Heh, You know better, I suppose. You always do, no?! and he continued his path until the small beach ended and a gray frosted grass filled the landscape. Few miles West, deep into the land was the beautiful settlement of Campania, and Conrad was eagerly waiting to meet the landlord, and be the beneficiary of his hospitality. Behind him, a difficult landing was filling the fog with noises of horses dragged on footbridges, curses and watersplashes. Conrad smiled in amusement, thinking few brothers will have a long day ahead, polishing their metals, after making acquaintance with the salty water.

Soon enough, one of his guards approached, breathing heavy, and emptying his helmet filled with water, gloomily spoke: What a day! Orders?! Conrad turned and looked over his shoulder at the mass of people and materials already starting to fill the beach, moving somehow disoriented in the gray light. Yes, the scouts to ride as fast as they can to the settlement and inform people or our arrival and intentions. We are marching to Rome, time is chasing us. Also tell that the Grandmaster of the Order wishes to greet His Eminence Reo Lassan in person, if he is to be found home or willing to grant me the audience. A small troop to patrol the surrounding for any unusual activity, but they are not to engage anyone, but to retreat if someone is challenging them. Commanders must finish the disembark, as soon as possible. Then give the men some time to prepare, then to stand ready for march. We must not loose time. Senshalls gather to me, we will travel together to meet the Eminence. And someone bring me some wine.

Conrad waited till a dizzy priest tanglefooted came to him, mimating something close to a salute, and Conrad smiled: Oh, father, I know seas are not merciful to the ones not used to travel them a lot. But my friend and Eminence will surely know of your sacrifices. Yes, I have kept you with me, instead of allowing you to travel to Constantinople, because I need you. Your master needs you, if what you have been telling me comes to prove true. Conrad signed himself with the sign of the cross, Eastern style, and chased away a dark thought concerning the Eminence's life. Because you brought me no news, my new friend, under the same shadow I live my days as well. A murderer and a deceiver, a traitor and a liar, on the See of Peter, I prefer to not think at. There are people more qualified and within their rights to decide, I have done my part. Now we must only focus on the matter at hand. A friend and a brother, both in faith and soul and mind, being captive without explanation or statement. What man would I be sitting quiet and doing nothing?! No, father, I cannot! And none of my brothers, for whom honour and word given to an ally is as strong as their faith in our Lord! Leave now, and prepare yourself for a tiring trip, there are many miles to Rome.

Surrounded by his Senshalls, with whom he was planning the march stages, Conrad witnessed soon the hurried arrival of one of the scouts: SIR! The settlement is empty, not a living soul to be found! Gates shut, windows closed, not even a dog on the streets. The landlord residence quiet as a grave, too! Conrad exchanged a puzzled look with Flavioratus, and shrugged. Who knows who placed deceit in their minds and they thought there are enemies approaching?! God knows we lack no enemies... Oh, well, gather some heralds and ride on the surrounding hills and lands. Tell them to shout in all the four winds that the Templars, the defenders of Christianity and the friends of all that is Christian have come! And they travel in peace, to Rome, and no harm shall be brought to their lands, or properties, or themselves. That they are free to return to their homes and carry on their lives, for we shall protect and respect them, now and always! Go, lad!

By the all five Patriarchs' guts, wake up, men! Remove your fingers from your dirty noses and form the lines! We march at once! Every Commander to tell, for the thousand time, if the need, to the troops: we are not bringing quarrel to anyone, we are just marching to Rome! There, we will know! The chancellery in Krete has made no changes in our diplomatic relations with the nation of Vatikan, they are friends to us, in faith as in daily life. No message of war was sent, for we are seeking none! All brothers must know, again and again: everything that moves on these lands is under my protection, no damage shall be inflicted, not to a thing! Conrad swallowed hard, and raised his hand, asking for silence:Nevertheless, if by some devil's work, we are to be attacked, by rogues, or bandits, or God knows what unholy creatures hell may have spawned since we last visited, we will defend! Peasants first, and ourselves! But you are not allowed to even fart towards them assailants unless attacked first! Let them draw first! Now, brothers! We have lingered enough. The Regent of Armenia and the Holy Cardinal are waiting. TO ROME!!! And with this cry, Conrad goad on, followed closely by his Senshalls.

Dear God, please, may them be alive! Conrad thought, while riding hard along the Roman paved road, wondering as well why the scouts sent to the hills have not reported back yet. They'll catch us up.

TAKE COVER!!!

The whiz of arrows coming from nowhere filled the sky, soon followed by the first screams of the wounded. Fog was as dense as before, and through it, death was coming in waves, zipping like hornets above the Templars. The army lines, in full march now, crumbled in dissaray, men lifting their shields above their heads, looking for a place to cover. Screams of death and horses prancing, blood flowing from fresh wounds, orders shouted and curses, filled the air.

Where are they?! Where do they come from?!

Horses coming down hit at their necks by the white death, bringing down riders with them, the terrifying rattling of arrows hitting shields and armours, wounded crawling under wagons, groaning. Men knocking at each other in their confusion, amiss like blindmen in the white, squashy light.

Holy Mother of God! Save us!

First orders, shouted by the most shrewd sergeants, tried to put some order in the lines. Brothers started joining together in companies, flags were risen again. Here and there, one brother fell to the ground from time to time, keeping a leg or an arm in a firm grasp, biting his lips or screaming out loud. Commanders, those left after the first deadly volley, moved forward, trying to identify their aides in that merging of people screaming, suffering, dying. Commander Giulio's men finally stretched their bows and threw a first attempt of a response, to an yet invisible foe.

Cavalry to me! To me!!! Rally to me!!!

The spear of Senshall Barty, raised high above his head, gathered most of the mounted troops. His call covered the sounds of the wounded like a sign of hope, beyond all the despair and turmoil. Surrounded by the personal guard, Conrad soon followed and, with a sign, he pushed forward into the mist.

Forward!!!

A short run, and soon shadows appeared into the dim light, trembling phantomatically in the dense air. Lines after lines, perfectly aligned, spears pointed forward, silently waiting for the flying death to meet its purpose. In the center, a golden canopy, held by four servants, protected three riders, clad in armour and golden garments. The rider in the center, carrying an axe, dressed in white, caught Conrad's attention, but in that moment a small clearing in the fog showed the markings of the flags: two golden keys on a white field, and Conrad's stupor reached new limit: What, Vatikan?! Then... then...

But his companions waited no longer to share his late revelations, and with a great warcry they hastened towards the expecting spears. Wait! Move back! Conrad tried to mouth, before being hustled by the screaming roller of men, horses and metal.

Chargeee!!!

As the enemy cavalry rode on, to meet the charging forces, Conrad pushed on towards the golden canopy... Who was that man?! he thought, face hidden by the helmet, now riding hard to meet the first Templar lines. And as they met in front, in that throwing and tossing, Conrad's axe fell over the man's helmet, throwing it to the ground. A known face, and an evilish rictus, now covered with blood coming from an wound open in the forehead, freezed the hand of Conrad and the second blow didn't came... It's you!!! Greg... and the tumult of battle separated them again, driving them away from each other.

Skin them, boyz!!! Deus lo vult!!!

One after another, in small groups or not, Templars were throwing themselves into the turmoil. Their fear was now replaced with anger, steel was in their eyes as well as in their hands, their mouth were shouting at the foes and their screams looked from antoehr world. There was no order, there was no organised charge, just a chaotical gathering of bodies in a common clash of metal and red, vivid, pouring blood. Protecting each other's backs, joining two or three against a common foe, Templars pushed forward. The first lines of the enemies were driven back, but behind them, new troops, fresh and eager, replaced them soon. Conrad looked over the battlefield for the red crosses tied up to their enemies, holding together, while his guards were slaying right and left to any who dared approaching.

For God and Order! Forward!

Conrad was not in control, no one was. Commanders cut off from their troops, Senshalls surrounded by enemy infantry making a last stand, sergeants shouting instructions no one heard or cared for. There was a fight for survival, there was a clash of wills and fool's hopes. A glimpse of the white rider, his clothes now covered with Templar blood, caught Conrad's attention, as the poor sister Maddie fell under his hard hit, falling off her horse, resting inert in the mud and gore, dead or close to, no one could have told. Shouts for mercy, from another corner of the battle, where two Templars, kneeling in front of a mighty foe and begging for their lives, were spared to retreat. Catches and glimpses of despair, of suffering, of torment.

Death!!!

Commander Atlan, Lord of Marche, with a mighty cry smashing the shield of Gregory, while the axe of his assailant cut deep into his arm. Conrad was trying to approach, but the guards of the house of Lassan fence him off. He only could see the man with the axe removing with a rushed move pieces of flesh from his face, before hitting again, and again, all around him, no matter friend or foe, until Escuman delivered a final blow, who put him to rest. Hit from behind by a young lad, more frightened than daring, Conrad hit back and then moved forward, to meet a man around whom corpses and wounded bodies were forming a small deplorable heap. Hard their meeting was, and tears almost invaded Conrad's eyes when his axe pierced through the armour of a man who used to be his friend, bringing him to the ground.


No mercy!!!

Slowly, Templars were advancing deeper into the enemy lines, as foes were surrendering or retreating in dissaray. The more their ressolve was, shouting loud, filling the battlefield. Hard was for the Commanders to keep them in a certain order, to not stray from the main lines, or to not pursue the foes, for anger was still burning in their hearts and the smell of blood was driving them insane. A bloody day, a horrible day, a day to never be again under the sun.

The field is ours, Sire!

A wounded sergeant, helping himself at walking with a broken spear, reported tired to the Grandmaster. A single ray of sun pierced to the fog, bringing a sad light over the dessolate battlefield. Conrad sighed and watched the Templars, cheering loud, throwing their helmets into the air.

Victory!!!

There was no glory, nor joy, only the horrible smell of death who surrounded Conrad like an unholy, devil's cloak. God has spared him again this day, but what of the so many others feeding the gray grass with their lives?! Where was the happiness, where was the relief he was supposed to find?! Find the body of the Vatikan man in white!he whispered, but the sergeant shook head: Damaged beyond recognition, or carried away already, sire! the man answered and shrug, with a sigh.

Carry all wounded back to the settlement! Bury corpses and raise crosses at their heads! See that there was no harm done to the peasants in the village! Conrad regained his voice and ressolve.Bring me that priest James, if he's alive!

Watching after the stretchers slowly dissapearing South, Conrad placed a still dirty gauntlet over the man's shoulder: All this time, you were right! You were right, and I didn't believe. And by this, I brought death to my people. God forgive my ignorance!

Mounting again, Conrad stood tall and shouted over the field:

Brothers! No time to mourn, no time to rest! We were betrayed and deceived! There was no plot, there was no hit inside the Holy City! it was him, all along! Think at your dead brothers and sisters and the man who brought this to you!Conrad paused, letting the voices calm down I say to you.. here... now... no mercy for the killer! No mercy for the Deceiver! Death! Death and waste for the Antichrist! Deus lo vult!

Gregory, may Heavens forgive you, for I can not! Conrad murmured, and moved on.

Monsignor James had even for a time hoped he had been wrong....but this.
A peaceful visit of Christian pilgrims...seeking answers across all of Rome instead of only a corrupted city...

This breach of Peace was monstrous and the copper scent of blood mixed with the defecation of loosed bowels and slit entrails.....
Already James was amazed and the constitution of his own Primary, Janus Valerius.
-- How does a man of God retain his faith and still look to save others when they do such things in the name of God!--

Surely such a blasphemous claim must lead to only the destruction of the heretic claiming he leads wars because God in Heaven commanded it. Only a God of Hell could want such a sickening spectacle.

Turning to look at the gore on the armor and guantlets of the Grand Master beside him,
My son, I am amazed at how His Grace,Janus Valerius, was confronted by such days as this for years at a time even, in Armenia. Somehow he still defended those Heaven placed in his care. The tragedy in defeat...and only screams and gore with victory. None of that was victory for him as each life faded from this mortal world. He does not speak of each battle and now I must acknowledge why.

Did anyone truly win today?


Looking but not sure if he expected answer, James waits. Slowly he lowers his head at the honest but not reassuring eyes of the Grand Master say much without words.

I am not glad of the knowledge I was right. His Holi.... the word dies in his throat.
That man, a member of the sect, "Domini Carnes" Those foul polluters of the Christian Faith!
I even recall how they were hunted down and persecuted for their support of the battles and secular methods of the former Pontifex Maximus.
Now the man who had tried to erase them seems to have been only consolidating his own power above them.....like some malevolent and fratricidal Prince who slays his brothers to secure a throne! He cannot be sane! Cannot be Holy if ever he was!

Now he even strikes at a landing of peaceful forces?? This to me seems even worse since they are the very brothers and sisters who he asked to die for his plans in the North....and then he cast venomous words about your knights when he found they already were committed to defending other Christians in Dkulja.....Insanity!

But to see this display of bloody and agressive hands from him myself....Even I never....

Monsignor James words trail off again and he stands in shock and dismay.
Suddenly he shook himself. Shook himself like a physical attempt to deny what he had seen this day.

Pardon me Grand Master, but I must do what I suspect Janus has already done, more times than a man of God should need to.
I request permission to treat the wounded and offer solace where I may....last rites where I must.

Not waiting for the reply James walks away.
He walks with his head hung in a stunned awe wondering if he can perform this task adequately.
Praying for the reserves of faith and will to see to what must be done.
Already he looks not at those injured and whole knights who pass him, but to those who no longer can by reason of injury or nearness to death.

As Ban Moroplovac was moving towards the Capital of Vatican. On a hill he stops to take rest with his guardian and some troops

While all other were resting and having conversations Ban Moroplovac saw a rider coming towards them he quickly picked his spear but not his armor because he didn't have enough time. The rider stopped 10 meters from him and raised the shield with the coat of arms of Vatican. Ban Moroplovac putted his spear down and punched it into the ground. The rider brought news from the battle of Campania. In the eyes of the Croat (Moroplovac) you could see hope , sadness and happiness. When the rider told the story of the battle Moroplovac knelled and started crying. As you can see Ban Moroplovac lead his fellow Croats into Vatican seeking protection against pagans in his Homeland , as the Pope of Vatican helped him he decided that Moroplovac was a good enough noble to stay in the Vatican and granted him a fiefdom in Campania where his fellow brethren stayed. As Moroplovac cried his guardian swiftly came asking the rider what did he told him. Ban Moroplovac was now hitting the ground saying "how could i let them alone.... i was supposed to protect them...how...how...?". His Guardian tried to pick him up but to no use as Moroplovac didn't want to move.

The Guardian of Moroplovac said to the Rider that he shall soon be in Vatican and the rider rode off. When the rider was out of sight Moroplovac got up picked his spear and grudgly asked his guardian : "who...led...the attack...?" his guardian quickly answered: "Conrad the hu..." and was interuptued by Moroplovac : "the humble...??" Guardian slowly to answer : "Yes my lord". Moroplovac with his spear in his hands threw his spear into a nearby tree , the spear hitted the tree in the middle without breaking itself. Moroplovac was going to get his spear , when he got it from the tree he sayed :"Next time this spear will go right through his head!! For killing and capturing my fellow brothers he will not go unpunished and unchecked!"

As he went into his tend for a few minutes and then when he came out he sayed

ONWARDS TO ROME!!

With that his troops quickly putted out the fire and got to their horses. With them saddled Moroplovac quickly roded to the Vatican to oppose Conrad.