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were quickly growing in power in the Christian realms of Iberia. Something that would be of interest to the Grandmaster Pierron.

  The sergeant and the knight had come to the end of the corridor and were met by a circular stairwell. Chevalier could see the orange glow of light from a flame somewhere below.

   “I must leave you here my lord. If you take the stairway, Sir Alejandro will meet you there,” said the sergeant.

  Chevalier eyed the sergeant suspiciously before descending the coiling stairwell, his hand tightly gripping the handle of the dagger that hung from his belt.

  The stairway continued to spiral so far down he was certain he was below the castle itself. In the distance below, he could hear the faint scrapes of metal on stone.

  Finally the staircase finished and opened up into a large square, domed cavern. More labourers were at work, cutting away at the stone on which the castle was built upon. While some of the men who worked looked unscathed and well fed, others were obviously slaves. They were passing to and fro with soil and rock, depositing it into bags which were attached to a pulley system.

   “Sir Aguillard, welcome,” came the voice of Garcia.

  So as not to seem impressed by the awesome sight, Chevalier continued to observe the cavern and its workers as if they bored him. Ahead of him he could see three tunnels which led off into darkness.

   “An interesting operation you have going on here Sir Alejandro. I take it that this is what some of our investment has contributed to?” he answered.

   “It has indeed. Magnificent isn’t it?” replied Garcia. “These tunnels will provide a secret network of passages between the castles of Ponferrada, Cornatel and Montefort de Lemos, as well as the Carneceddo Monastery,” he said proudly.

   “For what purpose exactly?”

   “For whatever is needed. Escape, transport, supply routes, intelligence!”

   “An interesting concept. And I presume this is how you intend to keep the Crown of Lombardy safe from those who would come to claim it?”

  Garcia smiled.

   “To prevent certain persons yes,” he replied.

  Chevalier waited a moment before answering.

   “Do I have to remind you of our agreement Sir Alejandro…?”

   “You need not remind me,” said the Templar, a look of sly deceit etched on his face.

   “I warn you for your own good Sir Alejandro. The wrath of Grandmaster Pierron is incomparable. His influence stretches further than Kings, Emperors and even your own masters,” Chevalier said darkly.

  For a brief moment, the arrogant smirk on Garcia’s face faltered.

   “As I told you before Sir Aguillard, I need the Crown for only a short time and then the weapon of Christ is yours forever,” Garcia replied calmly. “Now why don’t I reunite you with an old friend? He has been of great use to me and been responsible for much of our progress.”

  Taking the lead, the Templar led his guest across the cavern to a door which was half ajar. As the door opened and Chevalier stepped through he beheld the back of a man crouched over a desk.

   “So the great knight of the Blooded Cross Order returns,” said a voice.

  The voice was vaguely familiar but Chevalier could not place it. It was of the Papal States for sure.

   “When we last met Sir Knight, the great city of Constantinople was crushed under the forces of the last Crusade,” the stranger continued.

   “Who are you?” asked Chevalier.

   “Back then I was powerful. I had wealth and servants, soldiers and spies. But after your fool of an Order Brother, the noble Sir Everard Dubois, failed to capture those two mercenary scum I was left with nothing.”

   “Matthias Esca!” whispered Chevalier.

  The Cardinal finally turned to face the knight. He had a dirty, unkempt beard and sunken eyes. He looked more like a prisoner, than a guest. His robes were filthy and frayed while any sign of his position in the Vatican’s hierarchy had been erased.

  The Order knight could not help but sneer.

   “I once made a vow, that if I were to ever cross paths with you again, I would cut your throat from ear to ear. But to see you like this – this is where the real pain and justice has been dealt.”

   “You think this a jest?” spat the disgraced Cardinal, who had once allied himself with the Order. “They took my wealth, my position, all of it. My own compatriots of the Vatican, they cast me out, stripped me of my power. All because of your Order knight’s failure,”

   “It was the remnants of this wise Cardinal who told you of the Order of the Blooded Cross?” Chevalier said to Garcia.

   “I had heard rumours,” replied Garcia. “But yes, Cardinal Esca came to me with an offer.”

   “He always does,” answered Chevalier coldly.

   “He told me of the Crown of Lombardy, of the Order and their powers, and how between us, we could retrieve the Crown,” the Templar said greedily.

   “You know this foul creature will try to flee with the Crown as soon as it is within his grasp don’t you?” said Chevalier.

   “I have no doubt,” answered Garcia, who looked over to the pale face of the bedraggled Cardinal.

   “But he has been a valuable source of information,” he continued.

   “That I have. In more ways than one,” hissed the Cardinal.

   “More than one. How so?” asked Chevalier.

   “The Commander Reynard and the bastard, Robert of Oldfield have resurfaced. They are here in Iberia. Newly arrived from England and en route to meet with their band of cut throats. The Forgotten Army.”

   “You are sure?” barked the Order knight.

  Chevalier remembered the Commander Reynard and his protégé well. The

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