The sun glaring down upon the host of men, were costly. As far as they eye could see there were only dunes of sand, followed by more dunes. Ferran glanced around upon the small army that followed under his command and sighed deeply. Most of the knights hunched over in their saddles, it was hot like a blacksmiths furnace under the sun, and wearing a suit of armour did not ease the travels. Four knights stationed to protect the wagons carrying water and food. He pitied the foot soldiers, which due to the heat, now carried their spears and shields, less gracefully then a drunken Tilean pikeman, but their families back home depended on their loyalty to their lord. His own lips were dry and started to crack, and if it were not for old Guiseppie’s advice to suckle on a coin to keep the saliva flowing most surely this hell would have been worse. The only living thing in sight was the circling vultures in the clear blue sky, or the poisonous black carapace crab like beings that hurried over the sand.

He knew that some of the men under his command, had started to despair, and he could overhear, during night camp, how even some of the younger knights had begun to question the reason behind the Quest to these forsaken lands. A gust of wind stirred the uppermost layer of sand, yet the wind gave no comfort, as it was as warm as everything else was. Thoughts of why the Lady had sent him here, started to form in his head, as the sounds of a horse approaching fast broke the silence.

”We found the ruins my lord. We have found the resting place of Sir Montard.” The two knights that were to scout ahead called out as they returned. The news caused a stir among the men. The two knights gave a quick layout of the lands and explained how a feel of death lay around the ruins. How the battle hardened steeds they rode had fought against moving forth, and deeper into the ruins.

”Knights of Breton! Soldiers! Prepare, we are at our end. This one final battle and the prize is ours. By the Lady, we will bring Sir Montard and the sacred blade ‘Du Lac to its resting place back home!”

At once, the people seemed to become alive once again. Most drank deeply, as the knights handed out water, but a few took a moment to get something to eat before the fight to get their strength back. Within long, they were back in ranks as Sir Ferran slowly rode along the groupings to inspect them and issue a few words to bolster the morale. As he rode he felt a pride over his men and their courage, and his mind ventured back to the time before. The time just after Lady Lucille came to Bordeleoux to marry the son of the Duke.

It was by the will of the Duke, and the urgings of Lady Lucille, that Sir Ferrans retinue expanded into a small army. The remaining eight proud knights under his command had swelled into a set of thirty proud knights, most of them young and impetuous. Another twenty archers and fifty Men at Arms, selected from the counts own host. The troops had not come cheap and if it had not been for the words of the Damsel, to explain the wishes of the Lady herself, then he was certain that the dear Duke would not have given him what he needed to fulfil his quest.

After having arrived at Bordeleoux, and bringing the Lady Lucille to her husband to be, visions had disturbed his sleep. Visions of the lands of sand, and an unseen darkness lurking over it, yet the message was clear, to return the body of Saint Montard, and the Sword of the Lake he wielded. The Lady of the Lake had found him wanting and given him a place to go, to earn his right to drink from her cup.

The call had gone out, that a ship was prepared to ship down to Araby and the sandy dunes, and Knights Errant and the occasional Questing knight, from all over Bretonnia had come to answer the call.

Arthur Ferran and his trusted old friend Maurice DeGuile had when the spring came the following year set sail upon their new quest with the blessings of Lady Lucille.

The Madame Eternal and The Grace De Lions were the ships that brought the two hundred men strong army southwards. The captains of the ship and the Lady’s blessing granted an uneventful journey, not counting the occasional fight among the lesser caste.

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