CHAPTER SIX HUNDRED-TWELVE
Jacques de Molay pulled the chainmail shirt on. He sighed. As the air expelled from his lungs, he grew younger. In a matter of moments, the last known Grand Master of the Templars became a young man.
“Perfect,” Jacques de Molay said with a wide smile. “Now, we have a lot to do.”
“To do?” Nelson asked.
“How many quests have you been on, young man?” Jacques de Molay asked.
Nelson shook his head.
“By the time I was your age, I had been on more than twenty,” Jacques de Molay said. “I’d killed more than a hundred infidels. I…”
Jacques de Molay shook his head and looked at Peddra.
“You are not ready to be the Grand Master, my son,” Peddra said.
“I’m not?” Nelson asked.
Peddra and Jacques de Molay shook their heads.
“I don’t have time for this,” Nelson said. “My father is dying! I can’t…”
“You are not ready,” Jacques de Molay said. He stretched to his tallest and screamed, “You are not ready!”
“How do I get ready?” Nelson asked.
“We will teach you,” Jacques de Molay said. “When you leave this place, you will be ready to find the hoard, ready to be the Grand Master of the Order of the Templars. Ready to replace me.”
“You must be willing,” Peddra said.
“Do I have a choice?” Nelson asked. “The Goddesses aren’t here. Alex either. Mari clearly couldn’t come. I am trapped here.”
“We are all trapped by our personal histories,” Peddra said. “You have a chance to become something great.”
“I’m not great already?” Nelson asked. “I am the only male heir to Bernard of Clairvaux!”
“You may be great, but you are not ready show your greatness,” Jacques de Molay said. “Are you willing to get ready?”
“Willing to learn from us?” Peddra asked.
Nelson looked down at the stone floor. Like the rest of the castle, these blocks were hand hewn from stone.
“The only way out is through,” Nelson said, softly.
“You are willing to learn?” Jacques de Molay asked.
“I am willing to learn,” Nelson said. “To get ready. Any idea of how long will I be here?”
“As long as it takes,” Jacques de Molay said.
“But…” Nelson said.
He found himself standing in a historic smithy. The heat was oppressive. There were nearly naked brutes of men stoking the fires. Peddra stood in the center of the smithy.
“Make me a sword,” Peddra said. “This is your first task.”
“You’ve done this before?” Peddra asked.
“Since I was five year old,” Nelson said.
Peddra put his hand to his heart and then moved it toward Nelson, who bowed his head to receive the blessing. After a moment, he stood tall and got down to business.
“What kind of blade? Hilt? Material?” Nelson asked. “Special? Magical? Or just a sword?”
“It’s up to you. Use what you find,” Peddra said. “I will be here to assist, should you need it.”
“We are all here to assist you,” an obsidian skinned hulk of a man said in perfect Frank. “It’s our honor to help build a Grand Master.”
Nelson nodded to his ancestors and got to work.
While Nelson learns what he needs to know, this story line of Denver Cereal will be on hiatus. This story should return in July. In the meantime, we are rolling back the years to the origins of Denver Cereal.
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