At this time, the sacks were also pulled from the heads of the other Frank and German nobles. They found themselves in a bright and magnificent hall.
They couldn't remember the last time they had seen such a clean place, breathed fresh air, or been free from the unbearable stench of excrement.
Their time in captivity had almost made them forget they were once part of the Nobility, that their lives were meant for everything that was the opposite of filth and squalor.
Their gazes then fell upon the people in the hall. Besides the usual, detestable Heretics, there was...
They quickly noticed the man surrounded by the Heretics. He was not one of the Turkic People, nor a Saracen, and certainly not one of those perfidious Greek converts, but a pure-blooded Frank.
A year ago, the title "Frank" would have meant little to them, and it certainly wouldn't have stirred such powerful emotions as it did now.
