Giles wandered around the tents looking for the heraldry of his Lord's encampment, leading his faithful mule Lucan. Recently placated with an apple from a roadside vendor, his mule, Lucan, plodded along behind Giles with a little less surliness than normal as the pair strolled through the encampment looking for their assigned location.

The arms of the d'Aubigny's are easy to identify. While Surrey, which the Normans call Arundel, is just across the river from Westminster, the Aubigny's make their home at Castle Rising in Norfolk, much further away. As a result their section of the encampment is not as well-sited as it might be. Caught almost in the open on the roadside to the north of Westminster, the distance to the Abbey is tiresome, but at least the wind off the river is broken by the town.

Two knights in William d'Aubigny's livery stand at the entrance to his tent, you can make out a man in the livery of the Order of St. Lazarus watering his horse a short distance away, and of course your brother must be around here somewhere...

"There, there boy. We're almost here." Giles comforts the beast as they draw closer to the encampment, raising his distinctive and entrancing voice as they come within earshot.

"Hail the camp, Giles de Braose, second son of the Lord of Bramber seeks leave to approach."

The guards look at each other, then look back out at you. One steps forward.

"Well met, Giles de Braose. Um...the Earl of Arundel has given us leave to bid his vassals and their families welcome. So welcome. I believe your brother and father have made their tents beneath that oak on the rise just yonder, if you wish to keep close with him. That would be..." he looks helplessly at his fellow guard. "...good."

The crusader looks on with some amusement.

A nod of acknowledgment later, and Giles is on his way towards the indicated oak tree, a route that took him past the chuckling crusader. Pausing by the amused Lazarus member, GIles allowed Lucan a chance to drink his fill as he spoke softly.

"Are they normally so easily flustered Brother? Or do the pending events have them exceptionally nervous?"

The crusader shakes his head. "I imagine that's some of it. Some of these boys are really just woodsmen from a couple miles from here. And now, to have all the Earls, foreigners, royals all in one place? It must be like a dream. You don't seem as transfigured, though, Master de Braose."

"When one grows up in a house of God, one is less easily impressed by those who bear the transient power of man." He replies simply, all the while unable to shake the thoughts of the few distinguished guests that could unsettle him.

"But your composure also seems rather...unflappable if I may say so."

"Oh, seen one Count, seen them all. It's like this all the time in Outremer. They come, they go." He waved his hand dismissively. "And there are other things on which to feast the senses there. An altogether more interesting place."

Outremer....Order of Lazarus...hobnobbing with elite society...

Giles takes all the clues and tries to identify his conversation partner...with some measure of success

D1 LM Recognize tn5: 1d20 3

The man standing before you is not the Master of the Order, that much you are sure of. His face and the one in your memory bear no resemblance It occurs to you that the order is small, and not nearly so famous as the Templars and Hospitallers, or even the Order of the Holy Spirit in France, so to have hobnobbed with Kings and Earls means that this man must be high up. Yes, he must be Jean de la Rozaire, the Preceptor of the Order, which is to say, it was he that counted the coins spent in God's service.

"I've never had the pleasure of visiting Outremer, Preceptor de la Roziere." Giles answers as hecasually brushes down his faithful mule.

"To one who is unused to its charms, what other interesting diversions might one find there?" He enquires politely.

The Preceptor gives a distinctly Gallic shrug. "At the moment, sir, a very clever Saracen at the head of a great army. And a pair of would-be-kings trying to besiege a city. I would not recommend it for a casual traveler. The armed men will have a tough enough time of it."

"Perhaps another time then when the forecast shows less chance of arrows raining from the sky." Giles jokes lightly.

"You here on official business?" He asks trying to learn a little something.

The preceptor nods. "Yeah, I've come to make sure the Hospital and the Temple don't scoop up all of the Saladin Fund. The word is that Richard plans to extract a lot of wealth in the next couple of weeks, and my Order needs supplies as well."

He sighs. "Lord d'Aubigny has been a very generous benefactor, but I haven't gotten a chance to speak with King Richard before. I'm not sure if he even knows about us. The public relations war has been rather one-sided in favor of the older orders."

From the smallest of stones, an avalanche begins." Giles offers by way of some small wisdom.

"Even the greatest of Orders started small. It seems our new to be crowned King will be in search of righteous men in exchange for this fund yes? I trust the Order of Lazarus has something to offer in exchange?"

The Preceptor smiles and offers a half-shrug. "We keep his lepers safe and out of danger of infecting the rest of his people. It's not banking, but folks seem to prefer it to the alternative. Nah, he'll probably be spending most of the cash arranging supplies and transport across the Med. The Italians make a killing on that stuff. It's why Barbarossa's going on foot. But a man can hope. And there are other generous men, here. I hear the Earl of Warwick is looking to endow another institution. Might as well be one of ours."

"Such lofty matters are usually high above my reach or influence I am afraid. Should the opportunity present however, as a vassal of the Earl of Arundel, I would feel obliged to speak in the favour of your Order. Although perhaps arranging a meeting for yourself to plead your case would be better, I must confess to only a rudimentary knowledge of your order."

"That would be decent of you, Mister de Braose," the Preceptor replies. "And I'm happy to answer questions."

"Well i guess the first question, with respect, would be other than the very specific duty of caring for the sick, which I have great respect for as a student of medicine and chirurgery myself, what do you offer?" GIles looks a little concerned.

"I don't claim to have great insight into the minds or purses of the rich, but does your duty really appeal to any without a great social and moral conscience?"

The Preceptor looks at him for a moment. "Ever caught leprosy, kid? Ever known someone who has? Usually it's not so much that people want to see folks with leprosy cared for, as they want to keep them far away from people without leprosy. It can be very catching, you see. Everyone feels much better when they're in our care."

He cracked his neck. "Oh, and we fight Saracens."

"By God's grace I have not been so unfortunate as that, no." Giles confirmed as he mused over the Preceptor's dilemma

"Is there more demand than supply that you could exploit? If the colony as it existed now were at capacity and you were unable to accept any more afflicted until your facility could expand its holdings? But I imagine that helps little until someone needs your accommodations."

"The colonies do fill. We lose residents over time to complications from the disease, but a leper can live a long time if he is very careful, and we try to ensure that their lives are comfortable. I like your suggestion, though. We could frame it as preparedness, ensuring there's space and all for when an outbreak happens." He nods a couple times. "Yeah, I like it. Could probably market the same thing in France."

Lucan was by now finally brushed down and watered. "Well I wish you all the luck, but I must attend to my lodgings and prepare myself for the upcoming coronation."

"Take care of yourself, my lord," the Preceptor replies with a bow of his head.