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Several days pass. It's night time but the huge city is bustling with vibrancy, especially the Latin neighborhood. Word has spread among the soldiers that very soon the crusade will start moving again and most want to enjoy the leisures of the cosmopolitan city as much as possible. Taverns, brothels and churches are enjoying plentiful patronage, Greek merchants fight over rich Frankish customers, Muslims and Jews hide in their own neighborhoods waiting for the new non-believers to leave. Three riders enter the left wing of the Imperial palace, build by Justinian himself.
Raymond IV of Toulouse is a slender, middle-aged, tall frank, with blue eyes and black long hair, accompanied by two Occitan knights that are more swarthy in appearance - Estève and Frederic. Their fathers accompanied his father too, they were friends since childhood and he trusts them absolutely, which is why they are here. Entering the meeting hall, he sees all other nobles already gathered around a massive oak table, behind each are many oath sworn knights shadowing their lords' movements, carrying their colors. They notice him and loud greetings are exchanged, Raymond knows many of them. Many don't know each other but this great common cause of theirs soon breaks the awkwardness and everyone is talking. There are exceptions of course. Baldwin and Robert II have crossed swords for the last decade in their homelands and now they are trying to keep distance. Hugh of Vermands, a 16 year old boy, the second son of the count of Vermands, has recently received a huge black eye and now is throwing a long stern look at Raymond. The duke ignores him.
A loud voice booms <span class="mu-i">My noble lords, brothers in Christ... I hope that you have rested well as we are only halfway to our destination.</span> the source being a wide man wearing a worn-out monk tunic, Peter the Hermit, that finally brings an official tone to the gathering <span class="mu-i">As many already know, Turks are ravaging the hinterland of Asia Minor, killing our fellow Christians with disregard. They are a ferocious enemy if facing the weak, but cowardly if met by a proper force. With the support of our roman brothers let us invade their heathen lands, route them and later rest easy that our backs won't be stabbed, once we reach the Levant.</span>
<span class="mu-i">A monk giving strategic advise...</span> some knight mumbles.
<span class="mu-r"><span class="mu-i">I have been hearing for weeks that the Turks like mobility and antagonize their target from a distance. They are familiar with the mountainous terrain and know we can't utilize our heavy cavalry in a proper way there.</span></span> Baldwin gives his estimation.
<span class="mu-i">Afraid of some cliffs? We came here to fight infidels, you know that right...</span> Robert II feels obligated to disagree with him.
<span class="mu-r"><span class="mu-i">And infidels will be fought, but let's fight them at the right place, Jerusalem.</span></span> Baldwin cuts him off.
<span class="mu-i">And how do you think we will get there, unless we march through Turkish territory?</span> Robert II replies.
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