Bretonnia is a beautiful land, filled with a remarkable citizenry. 'Tis a place of rugged seacoast and strong fishing fleets, a place of rugged forests and lumbermen, a place of fertile soils, rich farms and hard working peasants.

Yet there is a scabrous blemish on the face of Bretonnia and its name is Mousillion-

In the Tents of Their Fathers

“Well, Gents”, said the Marquis d’Ascoyne, here we sit, freshly bruised in flesh and spirit, happy the tournament is over and hoping for some rest.” He looked about the big tent. “I remember being in this tent when my father rode to Tourney” Many Knights remembered the same thing, although the white haired warrior was more grandfatherly than fatherly.

Sir Moronce spoke up “Good Marquis, what is this I hear about you bathing in hot water, using foaming powders and scented oils?”

“Tis True, brave Mikel, tis true”, he turned around to face his onetime opponent. “ Years ago I discovered plans for what I thought was a trough to water horses, but the dimensions were all wrong. I went to the Library and investigated and discovered historical plans from a thousand years ago on public baths in the Romaine Manner.”

“Romaine?” asked a querulous Mikel Moronce. “Methinks Estalian in origin” offered Sir Hillier.

D’Ascoyne continued, “well I had one built, replete with a system to heat the waters, dispensers of the soapy powders and scented oils, a place where one could have muscles rubbed to relaxation and food and drink.” He sliced some cheese and poured some wine. “I think my best idea was the communal baths.”

“Men and women nude in the same –“ shouted Joan of Arc. She was standing, outraged.

“No.” answered the Marquis. “One bathes and gets clean and is toweled off. Then a bathing gown is put on and one goes into the baths, modestly covered to take the hot waters and to converse and to relax.”

“Then the dwarf comes in with six bushels of potatoes, five of carrots and four of onions to make a nice stew” “Lambard laughed at his little joke easily dodging the heel of bread tossed at him by the Marquis.

The maid regained her composure. Conversation ranged from tactical to technical and from Political to Puns. And there was speculation.

“Note please Sir de Giselles, that men speculate whilst women gossip.” De Giselles listened to Guilliume le Courageax and nodded pontifically.

The Marquis asked, “What will Tomorrow Bring?” and the sudden change of topic caused the room to fall silent. He repeated himself “What will Tomorrow Bring?”

“Sirrah?” said Sir Hillier.

“We threw back the forces of evil during the Storm of Chaos, we have declared our responsibilities to peasants and crown and now we frolic at Tournament and tell old war stories and-“

“By the Lady, dearest Hercule, we are aging in the anticipation of thy words-, . Get to the point.”

The Marquis d’Ascoyne said one word.