Horns sounded from the walls as the knights rode forward, Baron Fitzwilliam at their head. He had studied their lines carefully from his map room and knew where to strike. They charged straight through the enemy lines, directly for the ornate tent that held the enemy command. The knights drove their mounts mercilessly, the great beasts surging forward at full speed. They ate up the distance to the enemy lines quickly, and Fitz realized that the enemy soldiers were trying to form a wall, but the jarring impact of the armoured horses of the Bodden Knights shattered it like a mighty hammer. Fitz stabbed down with his sword, neatly skewering a man in the throat. He pulled the blade out, and with great precision, slashed at the next one in line. The unlucky man fell back howling in pain, a cut
