The knight rode through the forest, at ease, his thoughts as fleeting as the clouds overhead. He didn't pay attention to the winding forest trail or to the foliage to his sides, for he knew that if he were assaulted by bandits or the like, he could do nothing to save himself. Bandits that would dare attack him would be armed with crossbows. He would have to put his faith in luck - even though he felt that was rather improper for a man with the fate of the kingdom on his shoulders. The knight sighed, and bent forward to stroke his horse.

He'd had to trade his personal horse, a powerful destrier, for something smaller - he'd needed a horse bred for travel rather than battle, and had been deported to this mud-coloured creature. His insanely heavy set of cavalry armour had been replaced too, for obvious reasons. He now wore little else than a splint mail and helmet, and he'd traded his lance for a flail. Hopefully, he would not have to use it.

Brophar let his mind wander again - leant back in the saddle and gazed at the slowly moving clouds. His thoughts strayed far from his mission, to battles long since fought and to tankards of ale long since downed, to scars and to maids and to valour and to everything in this world, aside from the narrow trail he travelled and the surrounding forest. The horse stopped to try and bite a tuft of grass off from the roadside, but Brophar woke from his musings long enough to spur her back on course. The knight wondered briefly what the oracle might be like - he had never travelled there before. An image in his mind arose, of an ancient, withered old man with a beard longer than he was tall. Brophar almost chuckled at the ridiculous thought. Certainly, he mused, a wise oracle must at least be a dignified being.

The hours passed, and the horse and rider trudged on along their uneventful path. Lifting a hand to shield his eyes, Brophar looked to the west. Shadows grew taller and the lands darkened as sunset drew nearer, and the knight gave an exasperated sigh. He'd best find somewhere to sleep soon, before the road became too dark. Eyes narrow, he strained his vision, staring off into the distance - was that smoke he spied beyond the trees? A village, he thought smiling with delight ...or a bandit camp, he added with a sour grimace. Whichever it was, he realized he had to get there before he dared to sleep - if it was indeed a bandit camp, ambushing them while they rested would be his only chance to avoid getting his throat slit in his sleep.

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