Rolan couldn't help but show his surprise at her rejection, a creeping sense of relief washing over him with keeping his mount, but slowly it intertwined with the guilt he felt at failing one of his knights, despite her trying to take the blame. Hesitantly he went about retying his possessions, giving a small nod in reply to his given title. "Aye, that'll do me just fine." He answered with a polite smile, running his hands through the light, course mane of his palfrey.

"If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to call on me." He added as an afterthought, looking up to see that she had already broke away from their conversation and hadn't heard a thing he had said. [i] Well, don't I feel like a proper ass now .[/i] He thought to himself, shaking his head to forget the sorry affair, before a frown cast over his features like a shadow, the  dread clear in his eyes for the action to come. With a discontent sigh Rolan put his uninjured foot into the stirrup before throwing himself over his palfrey, somewhat upsetting his mount as he almost lost his balance, hugging tight onto the horses neck just to keep his seat. A familiar shock of pain lanced up his leg accompanied by a stifled sob from Rolan, his eyes shut tightly as he remained frozen in position, his palfrey striking its hooves against the dirt in a nervous manner. "It's alright old fella, shhh... shhh, it's alright." He whispered in soothing tones, his voice mildly strained with pain as he regained his composure to calm the horse down, slowly leaning back to sit upright in the saddle and look out over his comrades.

Rolan watched as the knights and other members of the order begun forming into distinct groups behind one of four different commanders, whom must of been named by the captain whilst Rolan was out of earshot. With a gentle nudge he urged his horse toward the group, spotting Sir Eadwig his senior commander and overseer to his training, he would have approached him for advice, and possibly to voice the concerns of his own health and well being, were it not for the fact he had already been approached by none other then Dame Marianne. His cheeks burned red as the feelings of embarrassment and shame for losing her horse resurfaced and with a tug of his reigns he diverted his course to fall behind the battle mage, although mistrusting of most things magical, Rolan felt it the safest option out of the three remaining commanders. It was definitely best to avoid the captain in his injured state less he shame himself in fighting before her, and quite frankly the undead knight unnerved him to no end, especially with a spear still sheathed in her abdomen.

Carefully he lifted his grandfathers helmet, gently lowering it over his head to hide his injury and provide him with additional protection, the sound of the world grew faint and muffled beyond his metal confines, his vision becoming limited to the horizontal slit in his helm as he tied the straps beneath his chin, the worn leather running smooth beneath his fingertips. He would do his best to keep his horse during the fight to come, and avoid exposing his injured state until the day was done, silently he muttered a prayer to the gods above.