Tiral was silent as the knights rode forth towards their destination, quietly mulling over the situation in his head. It was obvious that there were bigger forces at play, and he was sure most of the other knights had come to a similar conclusion, but the fact of the matter is that they didn't know [i]what[/i] that force was. Obviously, interrogating the orcs wasn't an option, much less the trolls, so all that was left to be done right now was eliminate them all.

Once the rest of the more melee-oriented knights charged forth into battle, Tiral quietly took out his dagger from its hiding spot and held it out in front of him. The sight of Marianne's own attack made him feel some sort of joy as a pseudo-mentor, but not was not the time to be acting so amused by something of that nature. There was a large enemy and it would take a while for their own knights to reach the enemy, which meant that bombardment without worry of friendly fire could only be done now.

Rapidly chanting under his breath, Tiral closed his eyes as he began to give form to the attack in his mind. An attack with enough damage to sow chaos into the enemy ranks from the start, with enough range to reach enough of the battlefield, and to make use of the bombardment out of the field already. There was already an idea in mind, and it didn't take long for his own magic to start taking form. One after another, icicles shaped like ornate blades that seemed to shimmer in the light like glass began to launch from behind him. One after another, almost as if they were in tune with the galloping of the horses to their front, the ice soared through the air and, catching the light of the lightning arrows above them, created a dazzling and chaotic distortion of light as they landed. The bodies of the orcs near the enemy raid's rear were run through before long, leaving a wall of weapons made of ice blocking their retreat.

The attack had eaten through a considerable amount of his own mana stores, though; luckily, by this point he had become used to finding ways to regenerate enough to keep in a fighting state. If would be foolish to only contribute this and nothing else, of course.