It was no ordinary High Mass, for this was the day that I
became ordained as a Knight Templar. It was a full ceremony, and
a long one; thankfully in the shade of a elaborate church with
cool, vaulted ceilings. My thoughts ran back to my vigil the
night before, lasting many hours, and what I felt as I stood
guard over the seals of the nine grandmaster’s of the Order.
My father was a mercenary, but became a Landed Knight
through service. I, his third son, could inherit nothing but his
wisdom and skill, both of which he imparted to me in all their
worth. He was determined that I join the Knights Templar, for
all the right reasons. They were powerful within the Church;
they were rich, rich, rich; and they were perhaps the most elite
force to exist. I trained pretty much for all my life to be
worthy of them, and I was accepted as an Initiate, to serve for a
minimum of three years to prove my worth, and in that time, I was
squire to several knights.
My father had hinted at it, and so did those I serve. There
was something especial about the Templars, something beyond
esprit de corps, personal skill, and perfected field technique.
I heard many stories of the power of God rushing through the
Knights as a group, the stories of the feats of the grandmasters
of the order and what they were capable of, but I only saw it
once.