[center][h2]Lanowen Pendragon[/h2][/center]
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Lanowen paced the courtyard, overseeing her soldiers' practice. She did not directly take part, except to demonstrate; they could benefit more from her advice than she could from battling them herself. "Don't parry so hard, Ergas," she told him. "You'll only tire yourself out, and you'll be fine either way, whether you make them miss by an inch or a meter." Her advice was good and true, and many soldiers were proud to serve her.

This was hardly the full story, though. Lanowen was tired, they all were. The night raids took the opportunity to sleep from them, and the day was needed to prepare for the next. Even when the opportunity arose, it was difficult. It's impossible to rest easily after something like that, the screams and the clash of sword on sword and the feeling of utter hopelessness as lives are cut short all around you. Lanowen doubted there was a single man, woman, or child in the city who remembered what it was like to sleep without nightmares.

Another of her men had died last night, though "man" was perhaps the wrong word. He, Tretin, swore he was old enough, but Lanowen doubted he was even seventeen years old. They'd been so desperate for recruits, it didn't matter, not to them, anyway. It certainly seemed to matter now.

She knew she shouldn't do this. She was a Pendragon, the last heir of a once-great house. Upon her rided the sake of countless people. If she was supposed to be among the greatest of all mankind, how could anyone expect to succeed while she wallowed in her pessimism? It would not do. She looked to Gawain, the last true Round Table knight. She could never best him in combat, surely no one could. Perhaps he could not win the war alone, but he was an icon, an example, an ideal of courage, honour, and every other virtue you could ask of a person. If anything could win the war, it was this: the best qualities of mankind on display for those not gifted by blood or magical charm to follow, and share in their strengths. This, surely, was what Lanowen must do.

It was then that a commotion began to arise nearby. Two soldiers arguing over something. Lanowen left her soldiers to continue what they were doing, and hopefully defuse the argument before it got violent. It was then that she saw the dark-haired knight arriving, presumably with the same intent. These were not her soldiers, perhaps they were his. She stood to one side and watched, to see what he would do.