Jon woke up with an agonizing headache. Groaning, he tried to raise his head but quickly let it drop back on the hard, wooden floor. The effort was too much; bile crept up his throat. Might as well let it settle down for a few moments so he could catch his breath. What happened?

He recalled the chase, the bandits. He'd been a fool not to accept Michael's help. All the young Prince wished was to see Jules alone. Now he was sitting in some house, a ransom most likely over his head. Gradually, his strength returned and he managed to get up into a sitting position. Head in hands, he recalled how he got here.

He was sitting comfortably in his camp - a clearing, concealed by a vast plain of tall grass. A little fire left dancing images in his vision. It was the ninth hour, moonlight washed over the landscape. Apart from the grass rustling with the wind, Jon sensed a more unnatural movement within it.

Slowly, oh so slowly, he drew the knife at his side closer into his cloak. With careful hands, he inspected the pot of coffee in front of him. Satisfied that it was boiling, he noted the position of his horse, the exact sequence of actions he'd have to make a quick getaway. Jon was ready.

Jon spoke, a pause in the silent dark. "I know you're out there. No use surprising me."

From behind the tall grass, a cloaked rider melted from the shadows. Two other shadows on horseback loomed behind him, lined by moonlight.

The rider in front of him was obviously their leader. Jon noted, with some interest, the black tattoo on his shaven head: the mark of a slave. It was an illegal trade but that made its products all the more valuable. The bandit's past did not appear to break his arrogant nature. As expected, he spoke with a rough, foreign accent.

"My, my. If it isn't the ruler of Aericanus himself? I've only seen you on paintings but sure enough, it's you. You'll make quite a sum."

The bandit and his horse stood in between Jon and his intended path of escape. That wasn't a problem. Just as he planned, he grabbed the pot of coffee and swung it towards the rider. Without a second thought, he shot up, vaulted onto his horse and galloped through the path, once again

Looking back, Jon thanked his lucky stars that his steed was trained to act like a Ranger's. It didn't need to be tied to a tree so a getaway was simple.

As he galloped off, he could still hear the man grunting in frustration. He only had a few seconds head start as the ex - slave's horse, now riderless, dashed forward and startled the others behind him. But now they were in hot pursuit. Jon recalled the path that he took towards the nearest village. The bandits wouldn't dare follow him there so that was they way he took.

The village was in sight, but something stopped him. Treeno the All - Seeing had once said that he and his brothers were now connected. They weren't bound by blood alone; their fates were intertwined. He felt it - a stab to the heart, almost as if he was dying. It was enough to send him flying off his horse.

He had visions. A rider Jon presumed to be the one who fell off his horse hoisted him onto the saddle and he blacked out.

Now he was here.

Exhaling, Jon steeled himself. One of his brothers may be dead or in trouble but it wouldn't do them much good if he was locked in here. He took in his surroundings. It didn't look much like a prison. A nice and cozy bed took the corner with a bookshelf right next to it, containing some of the rarest titles. He would steal a few of them if he really had to escape. Light filtered through a circular window on the wall, exposing a beautiful woodland view. Judging by it, he was on a second floor. It was as if the bandits wanted him to have a good stay. Except his tunic and trousers stunk of vomit and he was lying beside the bed, not on it.

Another scent, more enticing than the first, filled his nostrils. Was that bacon? His stomach growled. Grunting with the effort, he stood up and tested the door. It was unlocked.

That was definitely bacon frying. He followed the delicious aroma but was met by a man with his back turned. He turned around.

"Welcome, Jon, to my abode. Fit for a king, isn't it?"

"What in the bloody heck happened?" asked the dazed Warrior.

Jeremiah gradually came to his senses just as Bappy, Kiichiro Kat, Daven and Ysabel mobbed their old friend. Aaliana merely stood by, wiping her blade. Most of them had the same question.

Kiichiro Kat, a man of logic, looked even more confused. Meanwhile, Jeremiah grunted as Bappy and Ysabel settled for tackling him in a bear hug.

"A golden aura. I should've known."

All eyes turned to Aaliana, still making a show of cleaning her sword.

"Normally, an aura would be green but there is one in million, maybe even a tens or hundreds of millions, which is golden."

Jeremiah was revitalized by the epiphany to the point that he managed to shrug his friends off. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you have a natural ability for a Templar's preferred method of magic. As I said, some of the greatest could make entire suits of armour out of this power. The last recorded human with a golden aura was the first King of Templars and he could battle with ancients. No wonder you have managed to survive the mage and the lindworm."

This sparked a new interest in the Warrior's heart. Could he really be that powerful? Is that what the mage meant? But there was another obvious question that bothered him.

"How did I come back?"

Something tightened in the Captain's features. Clearly, she didn't like what she was talking about, yet something in her eyes hardened.

"You see, an aura is another word for the life force that acts as a binder for the soul and the body. They can't coexist without it. The mage took yours so your soul moved on to wherever a soul goes when it leaves the body. However, this form of death is unnatural because your body or mind was in no way harmed, due to the twisted nature of dark magic. So when I killed the mage, your aura returned to you and it was strong enough to pull your soul back," explained the Captain, slowly and deliberately.

"If I had been a bit later, your body may have degraded or have been damaged so it would have been impossible for your soul to return as it had gone through fatal harm. But I wasn't too late and now you're back."

At this, Jeremiah puffed up his chest. "So you're saying that in a way, I beat death?"

Bappy snorted, "The minstrels are going to sing songs of how the brave Jeremiah of the Bear lay dead until Aaliana, the beautiful damsel, gave him the true love's kiss."

Unseen by all, the courier's jaw slightly twitched. It was accompanied with a discreet eyebrow raise.

Aaliana chose to ignore the humor in his quip. "I killed the mage, and since your death was unnatural, your life force allowed you to live. Tell me, what did you see?"

There Jeremiah was, back in the clearing by Stagheart. He remembered the last thing Adara said before he was pulled back to the world of mortals:

"Don't tell anyone you ever saw us. Especially Michael."

Jeremiah wasn't entirely sure why Adara wouldn't want anybody to know about the afterlife: Michael most of all. It could leave his level-headed brother obsessed but that was impossible. The Warrior knew Michael better than anyone else. He was too practical. Before he could answer, Kiichiro Kat, ever the stone, plainly announced: "We've got company."

As they were speaking, the entire village gradually trickled out of their homes at seeing the threat eliminated. Now they were gawking at the rather unusual sight of the victors.

The innkeeper who seemed to be their unofficial leader stepped forward, arms spread in a peacemaking gesture.

"We appreciate your help but you should go. Also, Jensen's farmhouse is filled with some purple mist," he said, referring to a rather indignant farmer whose hand was badly burnt.

Aaliana apologized. "I'll fix that. When I'm done, we go on to Swanford."

"When I scryed your position, I decided to track you down and take you to our meeting place. It wouldn't do if you were hurt or killed by my traps along the way."

"Your traps?" Jon blurted, more than a little agitated at the fact that he would have entered Jule's forest in the morning.

"Yes. My traps. Anyway, when you ran off, I stole the bandit's horse and followed you three. Then it was a simple matter of fighting off two seasoned criminals both on horseback with nothing more than a stick."

All of this was explained by Jules, through a mouthful of bacon. He continued.

"I brought you back and along the way, you vomited, so I decided to leave you on the floor."

Jon continued to chew on his food thoughtfully. It was elementary for Jules dispatch his foes with a mere piece of wood. As far as he knew, most bandits carried sabers and clubs. The King of Thieves was really living up to his name, except…

"Where's all your…", Jon floundered helplessly, waving his hands in an unsure gesture. Finally, he managed to blurt:

"Treasure?"

"You think that because I'm a thief, I have a hoard?" Jon's mouth remained open, unable to comment. Jules chuckled.

"You're right. I do have one but it's not in my living space. I'm planning to take you there, but get cleaned first."

After a long - awaited bath, Jules took the Prince to the kitchen. He then proceeded to remove three wooden planks from the floor. If Jules hadn't done that, Jon would never have expected a thing. They fit perfectly over a trapdoor which acted as an entrance to a stairway that led underground. Within it was an unlit torch hanging on the wall which the King of Thieves took and lit, to illuminate their path.

As they descended, Jules explained.

"As I know it, you need power to counteract Reivynn's and to figure out what he plans to do."

Jon nodded.

"I have come across scriptures of the relic just for you. But it isn't Reivynn who we should be worried about - yet. I learned that they're just using his name to instill fear. Apparently, he is some dark sorcerer, waiting to be awoken. Maybe even somewhat demonic. Nothing we can't handle." The King of Thieves said this casually, over his shoulder.

Their conversation was punctuated by the pitter - patter of their feet on the stone steps.

"So is this all a bluff?", Jon asked, incredulous.

"No. I've heard that there are three people, you've met one of them already, who are trying to awaken him. Luckily, I've also found out that the relic I am going to show you is very potent. It was a weapon made to deal with ancients."

"Wait. You said I met one of those people?"

Jules bit his lip; his facial muscles tensed. "Yes. That would be Keen."

The name hung in between them like a rotting corpse. Except to Jon, the Warlord wasn't responsible for it. Amanda's death was still fresh with him so he still felt the need to be wary; Jules could be plotting something yet he didn't have much choice but to be allies with him. With a massive effort, he forced his simmering feelings down.

"Who are the other two?"

Jules blinked, oddly relieved, and continued. "The second one is Ced, a brother in arms to Keen. We've dealt with him before. He is sort of like your brother - the Hunter." They must have been deep underground as Jules' breath appeared as a translucent mist.

"The third is currently unknown so you'd better be careful. The biggest threat may be right under your nose," Jules warned.

"Or it could be staring me in the eye, right now." , thought the young Prince.

Finally, the two reached a rectangular door of oak that supposedly led into Jule's stash. The only sign of any sort of protection were the rusted iron strips which horizontally lined its wooden frame. Jon raised his eyebrows. It seemed that the iron strips were chiseled with random curves and symbols. At the top of the door was faded sigil of a crown encircled with thorns.

"I take it that the knowledge, artifacts and treasure in here are highly coveted. I'm surprised only a wooden door protects it and that sigil?"

"Well yes. To the people who try to get this treasure, even the strongest doors in the world won't make a difference to them. That's why I rely on only myself and inconspicuousness to defend it."

Jon interrupted him, "How about that sigil?"

"It's a, uh... touchy subject. When I was much younger and much more ignorant to magic, I found that door, and I opened it. Little did I know, that sigil is an ancient curse based off a prehistoric religion, long dead by now. When I opened the door, I was cursed. End of story"

His curiosity temporarily sated, Jon pushed the door open. The sight that filled his eyes made them open even wider, yet there it was. A simple desk and chair was put aside, sitting on a cobbled floor. Next to it was a bookshelf, containing thick, bound books and scrolls. That didn't fool the Prince. Centuries of information must have been kept hidden in those texts. A bulky chest was lain to the side, presumably containing Jule's plunder and savings. The simplicity of it all baffled the Prince more than any cavern, filled to the brim with gold and jewelry.

With the torch, he lit those bolted to the wall. A rich warm glow filled the room to reveal the garb of Jule's trade: a dark grey tunic, padded with boiled, blackened leather. A mottled, blue - black cloak hung over the attire, cowl raised. But what really caught Jon's eyes where the two heavy suits of armour beside it, covered in indecipherable runes: Templar's armour.

Jon turned to Jules, who had selected a gauntlet from his table.

He asked: "Where did you get those?", referring to the two suits of armor.

The King of Thieves picked an open book from his desk and presented it to the Prince. The open pages beheld different runes of power and protection. On closer inspection, the text had a red cross on its cover, signifying it was the Knights Templar's.

"Two idiots in that armour were looking for this book. I have tried replicating the runes on their armor," he explained, as he presented the gauntlet. "I've tried carving them on this, but you need something to activate them."

Reverently, Jon took the piece of craftsmanship from Jule's hands and traced the lines down each skillfully carved symbol.

"How did you beat both of them?"

"Granted, they were strong but that didn't save them from being stupid. Enhanced strength doesn't help much if you're stuck in a hole. Both of them, I put to sleep with the sleeping powder we used when we escaped from, you know..."

Jules forced a smirk, quickly changing the topic. "I doubt they were very surprised when they woke up in their undergarments at the edge of my forest."

"Uh - huh. I doubt that was a very good image."

"Anyway," continued the King of Thieves as he drew a scroll from the shelf, "here is what I've been meaning to show you."

"The Kindle of Fire."

"It's a scroll, within a scroll," remarked the dubious Prince.

It was as represented on the brown paper: a golden scroll, rolled up to fit into a metal tube which could be slung across the back.

"It's not just any scroll. Read the poem," said Jules, pointing at the verses written in cursive to the side. "It still reveals enough information for us to use, despite being damaged."

Centuries back, in the time of old,

An age ruled by monsters, preying on men,

A weapon was forged, one of fire and gold,

One to win battles, to never fight again,

A scroll of flame, the eagle's eye,

The mastery of arts, arcane,

To view the battlefield from the sky,

A human's champion, a creature's bane

True to Jule's word, the first half of the next three stanzas were missing, having apparently fallen victim to the test of time, the brown edges left brittle and moldy. While the first two stanzas left a lot to be inferred, the rest, at first sight, was virtually useless.

age at hand,

were near,

a final stand,

enge did appear,

the outcast, unwanted,

've seen the void,

figure undaunted,

was banished, destroyed,

last dying breath,

Citadel, guarded and bound,

matched only by Death,

Written in larger text, a few spaces down, were the words:

With the greatest mind of all can the Kindle be found

Once Jon finished the poem, he looked at Jules, expecting some explanation for the cryptic text and the part that was torn. He had a pretty good idea of the Kindle and its whereabouts just by reading the poem but he needed a second opinion.

"The Kindle was definitely a weapon of long ago, made to give the user an eagle's eye of the battlefield, in order to offer whoever's looking at it a major tactical advantage over their enemy. Apparently, it also bestows a certain level of magical ability and control over fire. Not bad, isn't it?"

The Prince remained cynical. "It's impressive, all I can really tell from the half - stanzas is that it may have started a new age for humans. But how will that help me figure out whatever they're planning?"

"What do you mean?" asked the King of Thieves, hands spread out in a happy - go - lucky gesture. "I've told you already that they're trying to summon Reivynn one way or another. With the Kindle, we can crush their attempts."

What Jules was saying made sense. Jon was an exceptional tactician at such a young age. The ability to see the battlefield, his battlefield, from above was almost overkill - with the mastery of fire to boot. Yet, the sheer sense of enigma their enemies exuded was unsettling. He needed everything he could get.

"I have to say Jules, you know how to get someone's interest."

The King of Thieves replied, eyes bright. "Fantastic. We can go tell the others after supper."

The smile on Jules' face almost made Jon change his mind.

Glossary:

Aura = an aura is another word for the life force that acts as a binder for the soul and the body.