The great hall of the castle in Rouen City.
The roar of voices filled the spacious hall to the brim. The heavy stench of alcohol, sweat, and the acrid smell of vomit hung in the air, mingling with the delightful aromas of roast chicken, venison, and crispbreads.
Wine barrels lay overturned on the floor, their contents spilled without a second thought by the guests.
The mixture of these smells was enough to make anyone entering the hall wrinkle their nose.
"Oh, Durandal, you are beautiful and holy!
Your golden hilt is filled with Holy Relics,
The tooth of Saint Pierre, the blood of Saint Basil,
The hair of Saint Denis, and a garment of Saint Mary.
Heretics are not worthy to possess you.
Only Christians may wield you."
A Minstrel was singing loudly.
A banquet was in full swing.
They were Knights and Lords from all across Normandy and England.
"Fellows of Normandy! My countrymen, all of you great Conquerors! Hear me!"
