It’s June, the year 1210. You’re a soldier, marching under the command of the Count Simon de Montfort up to the fortress of Minerve in southern France. It’s warm. Your armor is drenched and everything smells as bad as you imagine the entirety of middle ages Europe smells. Maybe even worse. No one showers, everyone has bad breath because seriously what were they even drinking and eating back then, and horse manure is a constant cologne. You and several hundred others are on a mission from God.
Inside this fortress are several hundred Cathars—heretics of the highest order.