Chapter 1 - Konrad

Konrad watched his brothers training in the courtyard, the clang of their swords ringing through the brisk morning air. Seeing them spar and drill took Konrad back to his training not so long ago. It felt like yesterday he had finally taken the oath and been inducted as a full brother knight, though it had been almost a month now since his seventeenth name day.

Becoming a knight was all Konrad had dreamed of since coming to the Teutonic Order as a young boy. He could still remember the day Landmeister Erik von Falkenland found him—a shivering seven-year-old curled up in the corner of the stables, hiding after his father had cast him out from the castle.

As the first son, Konrad was not the heir his father had wanted. Once his trueborn brother was born, the duke wanted no rivals to the inheritance, so Konrad was tossed out with only the clothes on his back. Erik had taken pity on the starving waif and brought him into the Order. At first, Konrad was awed by the imposing white-clad knights who took vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience to the Order. Their stern faith and martial skill impressed deeply on the boy changing his life for the better he could say. Once he got better, his only dream was to one day become one of them. Erik in particular took Konrad under his wing, watching his rapid growth with pride, for he had no children of his own.

When Konrad was thirteen, Erik appointed him a page, then a squire at sixteen to old Brother Rudolf, who taught him swordplay, horsemanship, and the chivalric code as well as reading and following the holy bible. At night, Konrad practiced fighting with the other initiates by torchlight in secret. Compared to them, he was nimble and quick with his blade, making up for what he lacked in brawn.

The day Erik gave Konrad the accolade and his white surcoat bearing the black cross, was the proudest moment of his young life. For nearly a month now, he had stood vigil in the chapel, knelt before the altar, and vowed to uphold the strict rules of his Order. The grueling training was worth it to join the ranks of the noble crusading warriors.

As he observed the initiates sparring under Brother Gabriel's watchful eyes, Konrad felt a hand on his shoulder, making him turn around. It was his friend Dietrich, one of the few initiates who could hold his ground against Konrad in the training yard.

"Daydreaming again, Konrad?" Dietrich chuckled. "Thinking of battles past or still to come?"

Konrad smiled wryly. "A bit of both, my friend. I was reminiscing about our training not long ago. Watching these new initiates, I can scarcely believe we were once in their shoes."

Dietrich nodded. "We've come a long way. Though I still have the bruises from our last bout!"

The two friends laughed. Dietrich was a year older than Konrad but they had bonded as initiates. Like Konrad, Dietrich never had a family outside the Order. He was left on the monastery steps as a babe.

"Do you think we'll see battle soon?" Konrad asked, his voice turning serious. "Surely the Baltic pagans will not leave off their worship of false gods and idols without a fight?"

"No doubt," Dietrich replied, his expression somber. "The Grand Master will call for a crusade soon enough. Then we will fulfill our oaths and become true Knights of Christ."

"Come on, then," Konrad said, grabbing his sword and shield. "Let's go and show these novices how it's done. Maybe we can teach them a thing or two before we march off to war."

Dietrich grinned and followed him. "Don't get too cocky, Konrad. You know I can still beat you in a fair fight."

The two young knights made their way downstairs into the yard, where they joined the other brothers in arms. They greeted Brother Gabriel, who was overseeing the training and asked for his permission to spar with each other.

"Of course, my sons," the 72-year-old man said, smiling at them. "These bunch of sorry asses will benefit greatly from watching God's finest men spar against each other and not swing a sword like a blind chicken."

With that, Konrad and Dietrich took their positions, standing at opposite ends of the training yard. All eyes were on them now. The sound of steel clashing rang out in the courtyard as they exchanged the first blows.

Konrad held his sword high, his eyes fixed on Dietrich's. He remembered the lessons Brother Rudolf had taught him: "Always keep an eye on your opponent's eyes and not his sword. They betray intentions." Dietrich was a formidable opponent, strong and tall, his blows heavy and swift. But Konrad was nimble, and unlike his brother, his fighting style was swifter and more calculated.

They danced around each other, swords flashing in the morning sun, their breaths creating puffs of white in the chilly air. Every clash of their swords sent sparks flying, the rapt audience of over 20 initiates watching in awe as the two knights displayed their prowess. For them, this was the goal they had in mind, alas if they could reach this prowess only God knows.

Konrad knew Dietrich's technique too well. He had always been more of a brawler, trusting in his strength to overpower his opponent rather than using his head to outsmart him. But Konrad was not without his tricks. He was more adaptable and able to switch from offense to defense in a blink of an eye. Their training sessions had always been a test of their contrasting styles that made many knights shake their heads at how much these two little monsters were improving against each other.

Dietrich landed a fierce blow, forcing Konrad to step back, but he was not deterred, instead, he smiled before deflecting another blow, his sword ringing against Dietrich's. As soon as his brother saw that his attacks failed, Konrad could see the surprise in Dietrich's eyes. Something never changes it seems, after all, Konrad had always been the faster of the two, but he had never been this aggressive before, taking such blows with ease.

Seizing his moment, Konrad launched an attack, his sword appearing a blur as he aimed for Dietrich's exposed side. The other young knight barely managed to parry just in time. But Konrad was relentless, using fast and precise strikes, forcing Dietrich to retreat, and leading his brother into a pattern.

Suddenly, Konrad feinted, pretending to aim for Dietrich's leg. Just as Dietrich moved to block the attack, Konrad swiftly changed direction, aiming his sword at Dietrich's chest. Dietrich barely had time to react, his sword missing Konrad's by a fraction of a second.

And with that failed parry, Konrad disarmed Dietrich, sending his sword flying from his hand and landing with a clatter on the cobblestones. Once they recovered from their awe, the initiates jumped up and cheered. 

Meanwhile, Konrad stood there victorious, his chest heaving as he offered a hand to his friend.

"A fine bout," Konrad said, helping Dietrich to his feet. "You fought well."

Dietrich accepted the hand with a smile. "I did, didn't I? But you were still better. Now I wonder what our Landmeister fed you to become such a monster."

Konrad didn't say anything to that remark and chose to only smile, as the two left the courtyard after bidding their farewells to the old knight and the initiates.

The two young knights decided to go to the mess hall and have some breakfast since they had skipped it earlier in their eagerness to train. They walked along the stone corridors of the fortress, chatting about some random things, and as they were about to turn a corner, they heard a loud shout from above. Looking up, they saw one of the brothers who was on guard duty on top of the wall pointing at something in the distance, while shouting as hard as he could.

"Rider! Rider approaching the fortress!" he yelled.

The two young knights looked at each other in surprise. It was extremely rare for anyone to visit the fortress, especially at this early hour. The Order's fortress was located in a remote and secluded area, far from any towns or villages and the only visitors they usually received were other knights or priests from the Order, and occasionally some merchants or pilgrims who sought their protection or guidance.

Konrad wondered who the rider could be, and what news he brought. Was he a friend or a foe? A messenger from the Grand Master himself? A herald of war or peace with the Baltics?

Nevertheless, like many other knights, they quickly ran up the wall, where they joined the other brothers who had gathered to see the rider. Once they reached the battlements, they had a clear view of the road that led to the fortress.

Looking down at the road, everyone saw a lone horseman galloping towards them, his cloak flapping in the wind. He was wearing a leather jerkin and a metal helmet, but no armor or surcoat. He carried a sword at his side, but no shield or banner. 

As he came closer, they could see his face more clearly. He had a short beard and a scar on his cheek. His eyes were dark and alert, scanning his surroundings, but the man did not seem hostile, but neither did he seem too friendly.

A few minutes later, the man reached the gate of the fortress and reined in his horse before looking up at the wall.

"Brothers of the Teutonic Order! I come in peace, bearing urgent news from the Grand Master Luther von Braunschweig! I request an audience with Landmeister Erik von Falkenland!"

Everyone that was on the wall was stunned by his words. What news could he have from the Grand Master? Did the Russians invade their lands again? Were the Poles attacking Latvia? Or did the French King decide to conquer the whole of Europe again?

Gabriel, who was the most senior brother present, ordered a few knights to go down and prepare to defend themselves in case the rider was an assassin, even though if that was true, the man was more useless than a virgin in a whore house. However, Gabriel did tell them to be courteous and respectful, as the rider claimed to have news from the Grand Master.

Konrad, Dietrich, and eight other knights went down and waited for the gate to open. They were armed with their swords and shields, but they did not draw them. It was mostly a show at this point since only a madman would have tried such a stupid way of attacking one of the fortresses of the order.

The gate opened slowly, creaking on its hinges. As soon as the gate was fully opened, the rider made his way inside, his horse trotting cautiously. He looked around and saw the knights standing in a semicircle, blocking his path. He stopped and dismounted, holding his sword by the hilt.

"Who are you and what is your business here?" Brother Samuel asked, stepping forward. He was a tall and muscular man, with a long beard and a scarred face. He had been a knight for over twenty years and had seen many battles and sieges in his life.

The rider bowed slightly and said, "I am Brother Ulrich, a messenger of the Grand Master Luther von Braunschweig. I have traveled from Marienburg to bring you urgent news of great importance. I seek an audience with Landmeister Erik von Falkenland, as he is the only one who can act on this news."

Gabriel frowned. He knew Erik well, as they had fought together in many campaigns. He also knew that Erik was very busy and had many responsibilities. He did not like to be disturbed by strangers or trivial matters.

"What news do you have that is so urgent and important?" he asked.

Brother Ulrich looked around nervously. He lowered his voice and said, "I cannot tell you here. It is a matter of utmost secrecy and delicacy. Only Erik can hear it. Please, take me to him at once."

Samuel hesitated. He did not trust this Brother Ulrich, who seemed too eager and anxious. He wondered if he was telling the truth or lying. He wondered if he had any proof or credentials to back up his claim.

So he decided to test him.

"Very well," he said. "But first, you must answer me this: What is the motto of our Order?"

Ulrich did not hesitate. "Deus vult."

Samuel nodded. That was the correct answer. It meant "God wills it" in Latin, and it was the battle cry of the Crusaders.

But he decided to give him another test.

"And what is the symbol of our Order?" he asked.

Ulrich pointed at his chest, where he had a small black cross stitched on his jerkin.

"This is the symbol of our Order," he said. "A black cross on a white field."

Samuel nodded again. That was also correct.

And with that, he decided to give him one last test.

"And what are the three vows that we take as brothers of our Order?" he asked.

Ulrich recited them without hesitation. "We take vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience to the Order," 

Samuel nodded for the third time. That was also correct.

"Very well," he said. "For now, I will trust you brother. I will take you to Erik. But be warned: if you are lying or deceiving us in any way, you will face the wrath of God and the sword of our Order."

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