"I suspected as much," replied Sir Fran?ois, "when I heard you were returning already. I have already sent messengers to Cinque Damoiselles, Chateau de Morceaux, Gisellebourg, and further afield to Merlebourg, Cantonni, and the others. I hope many lords will join us tonight and our muster will follow you shortly."

A smile appeared on Tancred's face for the first time since he had entered the castle. "Well done! I knew I could rely on Giselles to know what to do. You could be a telepath, man, you'd better make sure none of those Reiker witch-sniffer chappies catch up with you, eh! Anyway, I'm getting thirsty with all this talking, haven't you a cup of wine for an old friend?" This was, of course, a foolish question to ask of a Bretonnian noble, and soon they were inside remeniscing over a bottle of the finest Gisellean red. Tancred found that the squire who had taken his horse was Sir Fran?ois' son, who had been away on a hunting expedition when he had passed through previously, and expressed the wish that he would prove a worthy heir when Sir Fran?ois left to take the Grail Quest. Fran?ois, for his part, claimed that thoughts of the Quest were far from his mind and that he did not yet feel led in that direction. The boy was still young, and could not take his place as baron for many years yet, and who knew whether he would still be in any condition to take the Quest by then? Sir Tancred insisted, however, that his physical condition was of little importance so long as his heart remained true. And so they remained debating for a good many hours while the Duke's retinue arranged themselves in billets around the castle and the servents prepared the great feast for that night.

As the sun dipped below the foothills of the Massif Orcal to the west, lighting up the Morceaux like a golden ribbon meandering through the countryside, the nobles gathered in the great hall of ?lfinfort for supper. Abbot Cedric from Cinque Damoiselles was one of the first to enter, with the Lord Constable of Gisellebourg, Sir Filip, close behind him. Various other nobles from the region and from the Duke's party followed them into the hall and took their places at the tables. A gong rang out, and all stood as Duke Tancred and Sir Fran?ois entered and walked together to the high table. As they sat all the others sat as well, and, after the Abbot had offered up grace to the Lady, the feasting began.

Fran?ois' son was serving at the high table, as befitted a squire of noble birth. As he poured out the wine, Duke Tancred recognised him, saying "Ho there, squire, so you're Fran?ois' son eh? You look bold enough, what's your name?"

"Robert my Lord, I'm sorry, your Grace." replied the boy, almost spilling the wine in surprise at being addressed by the great Duke himself.

"Well, Robert, the Duke continued. I'm sure you'll make a fine knight one day. For now, though, take care not to spill my wine!" the Duke snapped, although a twinkle in his eye offset the harshness of his words.

"Yes, your Grace." Robert answered as he moved on to serve the Abbot. As he served the various lords, he heard snippets of conversation about the upcoming battle. He gathered that Kemmler had raised an army in the Grey Mountains and was preparing to march on Bretonnia. He also gathered that his father would be sending a force down, probably under the command of Sir Filip as he could not be spared himself, and hoped that he would be allowed to travel with it. However, he then overheard his father saying something that dashed his hopes to the ground, that he wouldn't ride with the squires. He also overheard Tancred asking if he was ready, and though he didn't hear the answer he assumed that his father was keeping him behind as he thought he was not yet skilled enough to ride out to battle.