The mist lay thick over the fields upon which the battle would take place if his visions had been true. The same fields that the local peasants worked during the day hours, to provide food for the realm, but now they lay silent as the grave, abandoned. Sir Ferran glanced up towards the sky and sighed deeply, as he noticed the dark shapes of ravens circling in the sky waiting for a meal to serve itself. The dark clouds seemed to press down over the lands obscuring the light from the evening sky.

’Dark tidings, yes the enemy is out there. Maurice, make certain that Lady Lucille is well.’

Ferran offered a glance at the knight by his side, a nod offered in return as Sir Maurice turned his steed to return to the ranks and see to the lady. Yes it was truly a bad omen, not only did carrion birds circle the sky but the thick mist were nothing but natural. He turned his own steed and rode back towards the contingent of knights and archers.

Before him stood the two lances of knights, dressed in their heavy armour. The green and yellow tunic, showed their allegiance to Lord Bernard Ferran of L’Anguille. They were his fathers finest and served his command during this quest. Spread out the knights were the ragtag peasants he had brought with him to hunt, and utilize their bows in battles. As he let his gaze wander over them, he felt their expectations. After all, he was the commander and Lady Lucille was his to protect.

As he thought of the mission at hand, and the fair Lady Lucille, a horse rode up beside him. He did not have to look to know that the Lady had presented herself. She wore a silk dress as green as the finest grape, and her entrancing blue eyes, like the deepest parts of the sea of claws. She reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder plate, showing her faith in him and then she brought her horse back to show the men that he was the one in charge.

“Men of Breton…The Lady Lucille’s safety is passed on to us. We have brought her safe from L’Anguille, and we will see her safe all the way to Bordeleaux.”

He gestured over towards the south with his armour-encased hand. “There is a host of enemies of the King, our lands and all we stand for. A host that is determined to stop us from bringing Lady Lucille safe to Bordeleoux, a host that will stop for nothing to bring death onto the people of Bretonnia.”

Ferran paused for a moment as he looked out over the knights under his command. He could see the determination and the heroism of Breton’s militant and chivalric knights. Lady Lucille carried an aura of the land itself around her. In the eyes of the bowmen he saw fear but knew that they would take comfort in having knights with them once the battle started, they did not have much. Nevertheless, they had their own creed and honour, one he only knew by name; they called it the peasants vow.

“Lady Lucille, you ride with me and my lance. Maurice, I want your lance on my left, and you proud servants of Breton, you follow on the right wing. Bows on your strings, I expect you to ensure you keep the vow of peasants, remain strong and know we knights will not fail in our task.”

With those words, he turned his horse once again, and four other knights gathered up around him, and Lady Lucille who rode just behind him. Ferran glanced over to his right and issued a nod towards his fellow Sir Knight Maurice and his lance now at the ready. The second glance to the left, assured him that the throng of archers were ready to follow towards the enemy that blocked their path. Then as one the patrol began to move, slowly making their way forth deeper into the mist./p>

*****************************************************