A Night at the Templars’

The former Temple still stood on the city’s northern edge, its once-bright stone darkened by decades of public scorn and something much more painful: indifference. The round church still rose with its conical roof intact. Low ranges of buildings: a dormitory, stables, and refectory, spread around a quiet courtyard that made little Agnes look up in astonishment.

”It is so manly,” Agnes said, holding Ignatius’s hand. “Uh-oh, Ignatius.”

”What is it?” Ignatius asked.

”I think my tooth is wiggly,” she said. “Check it.”

But before he could look down to inspect it, they heard footsteps.

“Stay here,” Ignatius ordered, while Agnes continued to wiggle her front tooth.

A single Hospitaller brother in a plain black mantle met him, and the two exchanged quiet words before the Hospitaller led them inside without further questions.

The great hall still boasted mighty exposed beams. Once-proud, now-faded shields lined the walls high above the room. Incense and leather scented the air as they passed to the dormitory wing. Agnes’s little short steps quickly fell out of pace with the longer, decidedly manly strides around her, so she skipped and hurried, causing her steps to echo clumsily across the mighty hall.

They were given a stately chamber with multiple bedrooms and a common hall with its own limestone fireplace, already lit and keeping the room comfortable as heavy rain fell outside.

Agnes immediately jumped onto the furniture to test its softness, and encountered the severity of the leather instead, while the Hospitaller informed them about the dining hall if they did not wish to dine privately in their chamber, along with thermal baths, space for their horses had they brought them in, and even armor polishing and restoration if they desired.

That night, after their splendid and generous private supper, the doctors had settled into their bedchambers and closed their doors.

A much-refreshed and newly polished Ignatius was halfway through another book of fairy tales, with Agnes resting against the hardness of his metal chest, when he observed the little nun’s breathing had finally settled into the restful rhythm of a child’s sleep.

He closed the book gently, carried her to her bed, then covered her with a thick blanket, before quietly leaving her room, closing her door quietly behind him.

Upon entering the empty common hall, the knight noted a small note had been slipped under the door. The Templars’ wax seal was unmistakable.

Ignatius opened it discreetly before crumpling it with his gloved hand and tossing it directly into the flame of the hearth.

His hands suddenly moved toward the flame as though to retrieve the note, but stopped short. He lowered his head for only a moment and let out a soft sigh as he sank into a chair.

His dark silhouette remained still until his fist suddenly struck the stone frame of the hearth.

✨✨✨

Hours later, the air grew colder.

The only reason Ignatius realized he had fallen asleep was that he awoke suddenly to a shock.

A slender woman with wild hair and a sylvan dress made of leaves was slowly pacing around the common hall.

”You know… I also failed this child once,” the lady mused.

Ignatius struggled to stand and bring his sword up defensively. She waited a moment for his dramatic pose to fully settle before continuing.

“Now I prepare to battle the dark spirit that brought this corruption upon you all,” she said. “I cannot allow any harm to come to my tiny babe. Yet, I also know that I require the skill of the one who means to betray her. An impossible choice is upon me.”

“You…” Ignatius said.

“Duessa,” she declared. “Your champion in this battle. As you are mine, Sir Ignatius.”

Ignatius’s gauntleted hand flexed once on the hilt of his sword.

“I am nothing of yours.”

“Ugh, you fanatics are always so tiresome. If we are exposed now, if your church condemns Agnes as a cursed child or worse, the battle is lost before it begins. She will be taken, I will be trapped, and your land will continue to die.“

“Yet, you merely confirm that darkness, indeed, walks with her,” Ignatius said, his voice trembling. “Therefore, it is my sworn oath to… I must…”

Ignatius lowered his sword. His shoulders drooped with remorse. Duessa observed him curiously.

”I was told to find a cursed child…”

“My! You, men of might, so readily submit to an authority,” Duessa sighed.

“I… I don’t want anything to happen to her,” he said, his voice almost trembling. ”My betrayal brought us here.”

“No, silly. I brought you here,” Duessa clarified.

”For what purpose, evil spirit?”

”So you’d betray me,” Duessa said simply. “You were about to turn her over to your fanatical brothers tonight, were you not?”

”This unholy bond…” he started, “and the doctors know and are accessory to it!”

In one single terrifying instant, the wild woman cut the distance between them.

”I could cut you down where you stand. Swiftly… violently. Until there is nothing left of you but a trace of leaves, knight,” she said, hovering close. “This is what’s left of the great knights of the Temple. How low you have fallen.”

”You know us?” Ignatius’ voice struggled not to shiver before her closeness.

”The forest never forgets. The fiercest warriors in these lands. Masterful. Relentless. Unforgiving. You know what it’s like to live and die by a code.”

“What would a woodland demon know about living by a code?”

Duessa advanced until he was cornered now against the wall, his sword drawn but useless. Strain as he might, she easily moved it with one gentle motion of her hand. All while smiling.

“Tell me, knight. Am I beginning to take pleasure in tormenting you?” she asked, her head tilting farther than was natural.

“Pagan temptress,” Ignatius growled, while unable to free his blade from the grip of her bare, slender hand. “I will not renounce my faith!”

She seemed offended by the accusation.

”I have not asked you to,” she said, her beauty now close enough that a whisper was sufficient to be heard while her hand traced the cross on his helmet. “I am asking you… No… I am telling you… to honor the vow you made to Lady Agnes, and be glorified by the ancient forest spirits. A hero, branded by the woodland.”

With this, she closed her eyes and planted a soft kiss where his lips were hidden behind the helmet. At once, an embossed tangle of glowing vines spread across his armor in pulsing, growing patterns.

“Wear any armor henceforth,” she murmured, her lips almost brushing his helmet again, “and my brand shall appear at my mere thought of you. And I do think about you… a lot… knight. And it is no use trying to shed my mark. Any metal you wear on your body will carry it, so I fear swapping will not help you. Nothing will help you.”

Ignatius swallowed, his breathing unsettled.

“I am excessively fond of combatants,” Duessa mused. “I’m about to wed one. Did you know?”

Ignatius blushed under his armor and then spoke weakly.

“Huzzah...”

Duessa smiled again.

”Now…get ready to raise arms. Betray me and if they don’t finish you off…,” Duessa said with a smile, dissolving into the night breeze blowing through the open casement. “I will.”