Lord Henri carried on with tactics for several more hours, some arguments did erupt over glory, honour and who was going to kill what in the army. But eventually a general consensus was reach. Sir Neville and Sir John both agreed to take the flanks and to kill any notable targets at their own discretion. But they would stick to the final plan, charging through the entire orc army and ending up behind it. Hope to break the goblins and many of the orc units. However the final objective was to kill the Warboss. Lord Henri Blanc wanted this honour for himself at any cost. With the Warboss dead, the rest of the army should flee, allowing the knights to mop up any remaining resistance. It was nearly midnight by the time everyone retired, the army was to assemble at dawn the next morning.

 Sir Neville fell into a deep dreaming sleep almost as soon as he got back to his tent. Rather than removing his armour, he decided to simply sleep in it. He had done this before in the saddle, and catching a nap was a good way of resting whilst out on campaign. But this night, his dreams took hold.

 Sir Neville awoke in the middle of a vast forest. For as far as he could see trees covered the land all around him. He was by a lake, a calm quiet lake in the small clearing. Several fleur de lys were sprinkled around the water's edge. Sir Neville knelt by the water's edge and splashed some of the cold water on his face, it felt extremely refreshing. He felt as though a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

 Sir Neville didn't hear the Lady appear. She walked calmly on the water's surface. Her bare feet not touching the water, but remaining a few inches above it. Her long golden hair curled down her back gracefully, and in her soft pearly white hands, she held the Grail from which all Questing Knights wished to drink.

 “My Lady.” Sir Neville said as he gazed upon her beauty. He could barely focus in on her, her beauty was so brilliant that she was basked into a golden glow.

“Rise Sir Neville.” The lady asked, Neville stood back up without question. “I am here for very important business.” She smiled, it was a deadly smile. Men would gladly go to their deaths for a smile as beautiful and as pure as that.

“What is it my lady?” Sir Neville answered.

“The battle tomorrow is in your hands, you have the power to change it. You must do what is right, you must follow your heart.”

“But what does that mean?” Sir Neville answered unsure.

 “Follow your heart.” She replied, the golden glow expanded and then disappeared, taking her with it.

Sir Neville remained all along in the forest, standing by the side of the lake. Sir Neville awoke just before dawn, the dream was still with him, but it was rapidly falling from his mind, only her last words remained emblazoned upon his mind. “Follow my heart. The Lady in the Lake was never clear.” Sir Neville said as he climbed out of his bunk. He shook his head, rubbed his hand over his eyes and then headed to breakfast.

 Breakfast was quick but hearty. Venison with Bretonnian Beer and a side of fresh fruit. Sir Neville ate it quickly and silently, pondering on what the Lady had said. It was just a dream, but it had felt so real. “Can she enter my dreams? Does she have such power?” he thought to himself. He had no interest in the Quest for the Grail or the Lady in the Lake. He had no intention of going down that route.

 His horse Gulliver was outside his tent as dawn approached. Gulliver was a chestnut Stallion from the northern part of Bretonnia. Sir Neville had ridden him for the greater part of five years and he was entering the prime of his life. His old horse Gwendolyn had suffered a leg injury in a campaign against the skeleton hordes, and she was happily living out retirement in his estates back home.

 “Easy boy.” Sir Neville said as he held out an apple, Gulliver took half the apple and almost half of Neville’s hand in excitement.

 “He looks happy today my Lord.” Jules said as he held the reigns of the stallion. “He must know there is a fight going on, a good chance to stretch his legs, isn’t it boy?” The horse chewed the apple silently, keeping any ideas silently to himself. “Follow your heart Gulliver.”

A few minutes later Sir Neville had made his way to the muster point just outside the main camp. Several hundred Knights all waited for orders, Sir Neville called out to the Knights of the Realm that were waiting for him. And they all began to follow him to their proper place.

 Sir Neville assembled his men on the far right of the battlefield. To his left he could see the large amount of men-at-arms being pushed into position by the Knights behind. Already he could see the orc hordes gathering, drawn by the smell of battle. His lance felt light in his hands, it was going to be a good day. Sir Galahad, his standard bearer, trotted up behind him.

“Good day for a fight Sir.” Sir Galahad spoke to him in a loud voice, his banner raised high over the battlefield.

 “Yes it is Sir Galahad, I trust everything is well?”

 “As well as it could be, ah here comes the rest of the troupe now.” Sir Galahad looked back, and Sir Neville saw the rest of the Knights catch up and began to wait in a massive group. A few moments later and all the horsemen had gathered together in one large horde. Some one hundred or so knights all waited for the order from Sir Neville, who in turn waited for the orders from Lord Henri.

 The battle line was wide, nearly half a mile from tip to tip. Sir Neville and his knights took up a large chunk of the right hand side, whilst Sir John and his Knights Errand took up a larger group on the left. Lord Henri and a large group of fellow Questing Knights took up the middle. Many more had joined recently and they were by far the largest group on the field. “It’s a very pious year apparently.” Sir Neville quipped as he saw them. The orc horde was getting ever so slightly closer, they would soon be in range of the five massive trebuchets that graced the rear rank.

 Lord Henri dismounted from his horse and began to pray to the Lady. Every other Knight in the army followed suit, and soon the entire fighting force was down on one knee, praying to the Lady in the Lake either silently, or chanting. “Oh Lady of the Lake, may you be our shield during this battle, may your knowledge and your grace help my sword be true, my lance be swift and my shield unbreakable. We fight against the orc horde in your name, for the Lady and the Grail. Bless us and keep us safe my lady.” Sir Neville spoke in prayer, before adding. “And may you give me the strength to do what I need to do.” As Sir Neville climbed on his horse the first trebuchet fired its load. The battle had begun.

The giant rock from the trebuchet struck slightly short, blasting the front lines of the Orcs with fragments of rock. The horde before them was huge, it was a little bit wider and much deeper than the Bretonnian battle line, peasants included. The front half was composed of Goblins, small weedy creatures with short bows and spears. Behind them came the larger orc boys. Most of them carried axes of some kind and were equipped in ill-fitting metal armour.

 Five huge boulders slammed into the orc lines, crushing dozens of Orcs in one go. Flaming arrows now soured through the air towards the orc horde, landing squarely among the goblins and many more went down. Some were lucky and caught the arrows upon their small wooden shields, leaving them like pin cushions. A large horn blasted across the field signalling the order to advance. Sir Neville made Gulliver walk forward at a decent pace, he wanted to save the horses strength for the last moments of impact. The Knights Errant were already further in front, and would probably hit the line a good thirty seconds before he would.

 “Trot.” Sir Neville shouted as the horses sped up and the Orcs got closer. He could now make them out, hundreds of growling and snarling goblins and many more brutal and thuggish Orcs More trebuchet shells came raining down, one of them smashing the Orcs directly in front of them.

“Canter.” Sir Neville shouted, his musician blew out a tune. The Knights slowly formed a battle line alongside Sir Neville, lances raised high in the air. Each horse was tightly packed together, almost hitting the Knight besides the,

“Charge! Lower lances!” Sir Neville dropped his three meter lance and grasped it in both hands, leaning over slightly to the right of Gulliver. All the Knights followed, and the mass of lances lowered like a hedge.

The massive line of lances charged forward, a few feet off the ground. Some of the Goblins were able to loose off some arrows at the Knights before the charge hit. A few volleys sailed through the air, landing amongst the horses and Knights doing almost no damage. The armour was too thick for the arrows to puncture. The Goblin commander, seizing one last chance at breaking the charge forced all his Goblins to aim and fire their arrows one last time at point blank range. Some arrows managed to puncture the armour of the Knights and a few were wounded, but not one stopped his charge.

 The first Goblin went down with a sickening crunch beneath Gulliver's chest, Sir Neville's lance glancing over his head. An entire swathe of Goblins collapsed and ran from the horses and many were chased down in those first few seconds. The Knights remained on the charge, trumpets blaring as they crushed Goblin after Goblin. Until they came upon the Orc lines themselves.

 Sir Neville’s lance punctured the first orc with the ease of a hot knife through butter. His armour was no match against the armoured tip of the lance. He got hauled up the lance as Sir Neville punctured a second and a third upon it, before he finally dropped it to the floor. The lance was cumbersome and too heavy to be used in a proper melee, and Sir Neville knew the Orcs weren’t about to run just yet. He pulled his sword out of his sheath and hacked at the nearest orc from on high. His sword cut through the Orc's head like a soft piece of meat and it went tumbling from his neck. He pushed out an armoured boot and smashed another Orc through the teeth, causing him to stumble to the floor in pain. An orc tried to attack him from the left, so he used his shield as a blade and thrust the bottom into his head, it took most of his considerable strength to wretch it back out. The sword decapitated several more Orcs in a few seconds, he could hear the deep growls from the Orcs as they tried to fight back, but they were out-matched.

The charge had blown the life from them and they began to falter. “Kill them all!” Sir Neville shouted as he raised his sword into the air. A large chant followed him as the Orc's dropped like flies on a summer's day. One or two Knights got pulled off and beaten on the floor by the Orcs, and their screams could be heard over the sounds of the battlefield. But a few moments later, the Orcs were fleeing and being chased down by the Knights.

 “Re-group! Gather lances if you can!” He shouted a few moments later. The Orcs were well on their way to leaving the battle, the right flank was won. A few moments later most of the remaining horses were in one group, and Sir Neville had pulled his lance out of the Orcs it had pierced, he had to slice the second Orc off as the Lance had become embedded in his ribcage. The lance belonged to his great-grandfather and was blessed by the Lady’s magic. No matter the force it would never shatter. His father had given it to him upon his rise to the rank of Errant Knight, and it had speared many hundreds of foul and beastly enemies.

Not every knight was so lucky to have an unbreakable lance, and many had shattered after the change, still, at least a third had kept their lances intact, and would form the spear tip of the next charge. Sir Neville glanced at the battlefield as quickly as he could, the men-at-arms that covered the majority of the rank had hit combat against the goblins, whilst Lord Henri’s men had past right through them. He could make out the large flag of Lord Henri, right next to the massive orc. But it was on the other side that Sir Neville was more worried about.

 Far off in the distance, Sir Neville could see that the battle-line was in distress. Even as the right hand flank was won, the left hand flank looked to be on the verge of collapse. Sir John had managed to lead his men into a massive group of Black Orcs. The Black Orcs were the larger, nastier and smellier cousins to the normal orc boys. Whilst not actually black, they were darker and uglier than the normal Orcs were. The Knights Errant either by a quest for glory or bad luck, had charged straight into them. Black Orcs were not the kind to flee from a fight, and they had fought the Knights to an increasingly bloody stalemate.

“March on!” Sir Neville shouted. “We march to the left flank!” There were a few murmurs from a few of the knights.

“What about Lord Henri?” One of them asked.

“The Lady will protect him, but we need to help the Knights Errant. Let’s move it.” He raised his lance in the air. “For Bretonnia!” He cried, the Knights raised their weapons and shouted with him. The knights travelled at a tremendous speed across the back of the orc battle line. Large groups of goblins were running away from the battle, and paid no notice of the group of knights. Some ran right in front of them, and ended up being crushed beneath the horses.

“Lances at the ready!” Sir Neville shouted as a line of Knights formed, lances held tightly.

“Charge!” The charge was just as deadly as the first. The small arrowhead of Knights with their lances ploughed into the rear of the Orcs. Several lances shattered but Sir Neville's remained strong and true. Behind the spearhead, the rest of the Knights strode in and cracked the Orcs with their swords. Gulliver's charge began to slow down after running over the fifth orc. He threw his lance down on the floor and dived from Gulliver onto the next one.

Sir Neville wretched his sword out of the Orc and he dropped to the floor. Another came over roaring and threw himself at him. Sir Neville jabbed his shield forward and it cracked against his head, as he flew back he swung his sword down in a forceful blow, cutting his arm off. Blood poured over Sir Neville's chest. He could make Sir John fighting the lead Orc some distance ahead, a few hundred Orcs still stood in his way.

 “To me men!” Sir Neville shouted, and he began to hack his way towards Sir John. He took the arm off one orc and blocked a heavy axe from another, the force sent a huge chunk flying from his shield. He bashed the shield into the orc and brought the pommel of the sword into his head. He could make out Sir John, struggling in the foreground, and he forced his way forward. Then a loud noise like a horn covered the battlefield and all the Orcs suddenly appeared shock from the force.

 On the far end of the battlefield, from the orc’s rear, came a group of knights. It was hard to look upon them as they shone brightly in the morning sun. At the head rode a powerful ageless man, bearing a large banner with the Holy Grail woven upon it. The knights were riding hard straight towards the rear of the Orcs.

 Behind them came a massed horde of peasants. At the head of them was a long dead Knight still in his armour. His lance still held high even in death. They were all were all armed with a vast variety of weapons and armour. They were all chanting and praising the Lady in the Lake. Sir Neville didn't see the arrival of the holy reinforcements, but he could feel the change in the air. His main focus was hacking his wait towards his fellow Knights that were still struggling ahead of him.