Chapter 1

Jacob Neilsen POV:

The rain poured heavily outside as I waited in the cold, winter night. There was a knock upon the old wooden door that guarded the entrance to my home on my estate. Thump, thump, thump. I ran to greet the visitor, hoping for good news. I flung the great wooden door open wide to receive a brown cloaked silhouette.

"Hello, Count."

"Hilsner," I replied.

At his side, the figure was carrying a satchel.

"What brings you here at this time of night, my good friend?" I asked in an effort to welcome him.

"I bring news from King Eric and his court, God save the King," he hesitated before continuing. "His majesty has required that every landowning noble and peasant must, from now on, pay a higher land tax to support impending war."

Anger heated my cold body and made my blood boil. This was not the first time the taxes had risen. The reoccuring tax gouging began to wear on all citizens. Now I was fully informed of the contents in the man's satchel. Despite my anger, I reached into my pocket and gathered what little coins I possessed at the moment. The man gladly accepted the offerings and stowed them away. He nodded in thanks and turned from me to mount his steed. As he walked away, I noticed the shoulder that carried the coin laden bag was dragging towards the ground. I turned and closed the entrance and returned to my quarters.


Morning arrived and I had not slept well. Last night's visitor preturbed me greatly, and I had contemplated calling a meeting amongst the Brotherhood.

I walked through the empty corridors of my mansion and called for my servant to fetch my horse. When he arrived, I swung my body upon the great beast and sauntered off. It seemed like a quick journey to town; however, something was... quite strange about the atmosphere. There was no laughter and no music in the marketplace. No children carelessly played in the streets. No women flocked to gossip with the others. Even the men seemed to have dwindled in their numbers. Everyone that was in the marketplace was going about their work solemnly. The occasional dull look was cast in my direction, but they seemed not to see me.

I continued to walk my horse down the streets until I reached my destination, which happened to be the local bar. I pulled my hood down and entered. The dank air surrounded the place, and I descended into the basement in which a heated argument ensued between the six voices of my 'brothers.'

The first voice I recognized was my dearest friend Stig Andersen Hvide; the other was of Rane Jonsen, also another close companion.

The voice of Christopher Holm bellowed out, "We shall no longer endure the wrath of this sadistical Templar!"

Stig made an effort to calm him. "Peace, brother. We must go about this slowly in order to maintain our prowess."

Chistohper's face became blood red as he continued bickering pointlessly.

I entered and all became silent. Rane greeted me first, "Hallo, bror."

"And hello to you, as well," I replied nodding.

The other three, Valdemar Skov, Achim Dahl, and Bane Ravn, all stood from their chairs, surrounding the table at which the discussion was held.

We all sat down in order to resume the heated argument but with a calmer approach. This time, I began the discussion.

"Bretheren, let us not fight amongst ourselves. We all have a common enemy. We must take a strategic approach to dispose of this Templar," I looked about the table before continuing. "Just last night, a tax collector knocked upon my door and revealed to me a new tax under the order of the King. This has gone on long enough, and we must take action while the time is right and do what the rest of our 'brothers' would have done themselves. We must follow the Creed. We must restore peace. We must assassinate King Eric!"