The Siege Camp of the Franks, across the Golden Horn in Galata

[Honors Bastion]

With the gathered group now separating, Simon de Provence walked back towards his tent. Along the way, Simon kept thinking about what the knight called Philip said. “Alea iacta est.The die is cast.” The words kept revolving around in Simon’s mind over and over again. By the time he had reached his tent, he finally realized the gravity of those words. Either they take Constantinople and claim it for their own or the this particular Crusading host would fall apart. If that were to happen, what life was there for him to live? Who would want a knight who had been a part of not only a failed crusade, but a blasphemous one as well? If that happens, he would have to go back to serving in a mercenary company and where is the honor in that.

With this thought in his mind, Simon departed his tent once more to examine Constantinople again. He was resolved to take this city or die trying, for there was nothing left for him in this world. Either he take his chance now to achieve glory or we will die at the hands the Greeks and hopefully, he would have taken a few Greeks with him to hell.

[Ganbarenippon]

Roland disembarked from the boat, wide-eyed and staring. The camp, the shields, the armour and horse, the priest and bishops the great and the good, it was all just like the songs! He realised shortly after that that he had no idea where he could even begin to look for his cousin. His cousin bore the same arms on his shield as Roland did, but there were thousands of knights here and the camp was not so well organised, split as it was into nationalities and lords and individual men. The song never made mention of that, but it was all in the adventure! Shouldering his pack Roland strode into camp humming to himself.

[Adamat]

Cristoforo had resumed his work when the crowd had dispersed. When he was done with running the errand, the Venetian soldier got his crossbow from his tent and put a bag of bolts on his belt, which already held the shortsword he always carried around. He was walking towards one of the many target practice courses, when he saw one of the men, the one that hit the fat priest, looking into the distance, to Constantinople. As much as Cristoforo tried, he couldn't stop himself from letting out a chuckle as he extended a hand to his fellow crusader. "Hah, you hit that priest well," he said in Italian, even though the man probably wasn't from Venice.

[Honors Bastion]

Cristoforo had resumed his work when the crowd had dispersed. When he was done with running the errand, the Venetian soldier got his crossbow from his tent and put a bag of bolts on his belt, which already held the shortsword he always carried around. He was walking towards one of the many target practice courses, when he saw one of the men, the one that hit the fat priest, looking into the distance, to Constantinople. As much as Cristoforo tried, he couldn't stop himself from letting out a chuckle as he extended a hand to his fellow crusader. "Hah, you hit that priest well," he said in Italian, even though the man probably wasn't from Venice.

Simon turned to hear the sound of a chuckle that came from behind him and what he saw was a crossbowman, presumably a Venetian or maybe a Genoan one, extending his hand towards him, speaking in his own native tongue. As luck would have it, Simon had managed to learn some Italian during his days as a mercenary, so he did understand what the man was saying. He shook the man's hand and he replied in bad mixture of French and Italian “Uh, why thank you good man. It wasn’t the first time I have had to hit a priest on the head and I don’t think it will be the last time either.”

[Adamat]

Cristoforo burst into laughter at that. "I like you, Frenchman," he now told the knight in French. Being from a merchant family, he had learned quite a few languages. "Cristoforo Soranzo is my name, and I am from Venice."

[Ganbarenippon]

After several hours Roland had enjoyed no luck. He had asked in French, Italian, Latin, Savoyard, even English and Greek but he so far had not had any luck. The only thing he had done is practised his gift for languages. He stopped yet another Knight, tall and fair, a German or Scandinavian by the look of him and asked after his cousin. He tried German and then Swedish but the man merely mumbled at him and walked off. It was only afterwards Roland realised that the man had spoken Flemish. He wandered the camp taking in the sights and the smells and beaming like a loon at it all. This was what he had waited his whole life for! First he would meet his cousin, then he would smash the infidels, then he would have a keep and men of his own and be a famous knight renowned for his prowess and justice. He took a deep, bracing breath and walked on the smile still plastered to his face.

[Honors Bastion]

Cristoforo burst into laughter at that. "I like you, Frenchman," he now told the knight in French. Being from a merchant family, he had learned quite a few languages. "Cristoforo Soranzo is my name, and I am from Venice."

Simon laughed with the Venetian and replied in his natural French “It is nice to meet you Cristoforo. My name is Simon de Provence and I come from the port city of Marseille on the Cote d’Azur. What brings you to this Crusade?”

[Adamat]

The Venetian smirked. "My enourmous love of all that is holy, of course," he said, winking. "I come from a family of somewhat wealthy merchants who intend to become even richer," he explained then. "To be honest, there don't seem to be a whole lot of truly pious crusaders here. The mainstay of our army seems to exist out of people looking for money, renown, or just to get away from home. Can't say I disagree with them."

[Lucius Malfoy]

Bohemond watched as Philip went off. He looked once more at the city before the Frank walked away from the siege weapons. He headed for the many tents that were used by soldier and commander alike. The Lusignan walked past various soldiers trying to keep their hopes up despite the cruddy weather. Hopefully the assault upon the walls would begin and Bohemond can find a palace to get a warm meal and maybe a nice bed too. Greek nobles lived a Roman lifestyle combine with their ancient traditions. What life that must be, he wondered.

[Honors Bastion]

The Venetian smirked. "My enourmous love of all that is holy, of course," he said, winking. "I come from a family of somewhat wealthy merchants who intend to become even richer," he explained then. "To be honest, there don't seem to be a whole lot of truly pious crusaders here. The mainstay of our army seems to exist out of people looking for money, renown, or just to get away from home. Can't say I disagree with them."

“Well then, my reasons for being here are the same as the rest. My father is the Count of Provence but I have three elder brothers ahead of me in the line of succession. As such, with no prospects for inheriting my father’s wealth, I decided to head out into the world to earn my own lot in life. When I heard about this Crusade, I quickly pledged by sword to the cause. Though I am pious and my piety did play a part in me joining this Crusade, my desire for land, wealth, and titles was the stronger motivator in taking the cross.” said Simon.

[Ganbarenippon]

Roland's enthusiasm was dampened somewhat when he first saw the walls. The massive, ancient structures had guarded the city for hundreds of years. 'We have to get over those?' He thought, feeling sick as he gazed upon the bastions, barbicans and towers that formed the final, strongest defence of the city. But he took heart as he saw the Venetian fleet formed up in the waters near the camp. 'Mayhaps we will not after all?' He thought; the idea of crossing on a boat immediately rallying his spirits. 'And if the walls are so strong,then what do they protect?' He began to daydream of the riches he would find once they entered the city.

[Adamat]

“Well then, my reasons for being here are the same as the rest. My father is the Count of Provence but I have three elder brothers ahead of me in the line of succession. As such, with no prospects for inheriting my father’s wealth, I decided to head out into the world to earn my own lot in life. When I heard about this Crusade, I quickly pledged by sword to the cause. Though I am pious and my piety did play a part in me joining this Crusade, my desire for land, wealth, and titles was the stronger motivator in taking the cross.” said Simon.

"Ah, so you are of noble blood, eh?" Cristoforo immediately thought about the money and power this French knight talking with him could muster. "I suppose your father sent a nice amount of knights with you on your holy adventure, didn't he?" He laughed again. "Hell, even I have a retinue with me, even though i suspect you would think of them as a bit rude."

[Jokern]

Roland's enthusiasm was dampened somewhat when he first saw the walls. The massive, ancient structures had guarded the city for hundreds of years. 'We have to get over those?' He thought, feeling sick as he gazed upon the bastions, barbicans and towers that formed the final, strongest defence of the city. But he took heart as he saw the Venetian fleet formed up in the waters near the camp. 'Mayhaps we will not after all?' He thought; the idea of crossing on a boat immediately rallying his spirits. 'And if the walls are so strong,then what do they protect?' He began to daydream of the riches he would find once they entered the city.

Father Johannes walked through the camp, tired of sitting in a cramped tent where no one listened to his preachings. The other crusaders had just seeked refuge in wine and what little food they had. Johannes despised them for it, how could men that fought in the name of God not see the truth in his words? Everyone called him crazy, but what did they know? They were just a hungry pack of hungry, stupid wolves that only sought the material glory that would satisfy their own greed.

He stumbled upon a young knight that seemed lost. Was he seeking someone? As the good Christian that he was, it was his duty to help those who had lost their way.

"How are you faring, my child? Are you lost, or are you looking for someone? It is my duty to help those in need."

[Ganbarenippon]

"Ah, father. Good day." Roland replied in Latin, smiling. "As it happens I am looking for my cousin, a fellow Provencal named Simon de Provence. He bears the same arms as me." He says indicating the yellow and red striped shield he is carrying. "But it would seem that the camp is larger and more chaotic than I thought." The young knight, scarcely more than a boy, looked ever so slightly deflated from this admission.

[Honors Bastion]

"Ah, so you are of noble blood, eh?" Cristoforo immediately thought about the money and power this French knight talking with him could muster. "I suppose your father sent a nice amount of knights with you on your holy adventure, didn't he?" He laughed again. "Hell, even I have a retinue with me, even though i suspect you would think of them as a bit rude."

“Well not exactly. I left Provence years ago to pursue my own life and for a time I served in Aquitaine in a mercenary company earning a solid enough living. Afterwards, I left the company to serve in the retinue of the Duc de Champagne. It was there that I had heard about this crusade and it was there that I joined the Crusade with many other knights. What retinue that I do have are those few loyal knights, numbering no more than six or seven men, who have managed to stay with me when I left my home years ago.” answered Simon.

[Adamat]

"Okay, not a big retinue then, but surely they are strong knights, and truly chivalrous like a true knight should be?" When he thought about his own men, he was fairly sure they would start raping the inhabitants of the city as soon as they came over the walls. If they came over the walls, he should add. "My own men are quite steady shots with their crossbows, if i might say so. We wanted to buy a few Pavises before we left, but sadly we saw a few pubs in the Venetian harbor and all our money was gone the day after."

[Jokern]

"Ah, father. Good day." Roland replied in Latin, smiling. "As it happens I am looking for my cousin, a fellow Provencal named Simon de Provence. He bears the same arms as me." He says indicating the yellow and red striped shield he is carrying. "But it would seem that the camp is larger and more chaotic than I thought." The young knight, scarcely more than a boy, looked ever so slightly deflated from this admission.

"Ah, I know of Simon de Provence" Johannes replied in French. "His tent is not far from here, let us walk there together."

He led the young knight through the camp with ease, the long time spent here having imprinted a map in his mind.

"What is your name, my child? I am Father Johannes, from Münich."

[Lucius Malfoy]

Bohemond was passing through the camp when he noticed a Frenchmen talking among some Germans and a Priest. He had not been aware that Germans were among those in the Crusader ranks. He approaches Father Johannes, glancing at Roland.

I never knew Germans were among our ranks. I was only aware of Italians and Franks. Seems this Crusade has attracted the attention of many more than I thought possible. Then again, this host of Crusaders is large...perhaps there are many different cultures among our ranks that I have yet to meet.

[Dirty Chai]

From his position at the rear of the group Father Jacopo Orsini watched all in silence. He observed the bellowing fools, the firebrands, the true believers, and those who were involved in this expedition for more...temporal matters. 'And which are you, Priest?' He thought wryly. He was a man gifted with words, when he chose to be but for now he was content to observe. The Lusignan man seemed to have charisma and certainly the bloodline. 'One worth getting close to perhaps?' Orsini thinks.

Just then the Frenchman burned the writ of excommunication. Orsini blinked in surprise. The act itself was not shocking, more the blatant nature of it. The way the man smiled, almost challenging the assembled priests to stop him, and then the casual way he walked back to his tents. 'Oh-ho,and what have we here? An idiot? Or a man of ambition?' Before he truly knew what he was doing Orsini followed the man back towards his tent wanting to find out. He caught him on the muddy path.

"A brave move, my son. Some might even say blasphemous." He says in French with a half smile that could mean anything. Or nothing.

[OOC: Our characters are the same age ]


D'Alençon paused, surprised a little by the priest who confronted him.
He then glanced back up at the gathering on the hill, and then back to his tent, nodding at it.
"Perhaps a necessary one." He said solemnly in his native accent, continuing his path towards the tent, expecting the shrewd priest to follow.
"I am Philippe of Alençon, Mareschal de Champagne," he said, nearing the tent's door. The canvas was striped with jaune and bleu, but the colors were somewhat faded and tattered by the mud and elements.
Philip leaned into the tent flap before entering, looking around inside for his sister.

[Jokern]

Bohemond was passing through the camp when he noticed a Frenchmen talking among some Germans and a Priest. He had not been aware that Germans were among those in the Crusader ranks. He approaches Father Johannes, glancing at Roland.

I never knew Germans were among our ranks. I was only aware of Italians and Franks. Seems this Crusade has attracted the attention of many more than I thought possible. Then again, this host of Crusaders is large...perhaps there are many different cultures among our ranks that I have yet to meet.

Johannes looked at the noble that had approached them. He had seen Bohemund de Lusignan several times, although this was the first time they spoke with each other. Johannes kept to his French.

"I may have traveled far to join this crusade, but the man I came here with is from the cold north, Sweden if my memory serves me right. Many different people have joined our righteous cause. French, German, Italian, Swedish... where we come from doesn't matter, God have given us the power to unite all these different people so that we can create something new."

He fixated his green eyes on Bohemund's.

"For when we conquer the city, what will happen? What will the potter form from the clay that lies in his hands?"