The decisive moment approaches, the moment when our heavy cavalry shall be called upon to charge the enemy’s formation and strike chaos amongst his ranks. Our armour be strong, our lances be sturdy, and our swords be sharp. We shall fly headlong into danger and win glory for The King!
But, fie! The battle starts in five minutes and it hath just been brought to my attention that all of our warhorses are still off fycking somewhere.
What a drag!
I didst tell the squires explicitly to let the horses get all the fycking out of their systems well prior to the appointed battling tyme. Now the decisive moment approaches. The hornblower is sounding the charge and our steeds are still mounted upon one another in a fiery embrace.
What shouldst a goode knight do? Shouldst we charge into battle on foote like mere lowborne infantrymen ripe for the slaughter? Or do we wait for our horses to finish and risk missing out on some glorious killing?
Indeed, I understand our horses’ actions. The excitement of an impending battle maketh the fire burn hot in mine loins as well. But one has to quench such passions at least an hour or two before the first arrow volley.
Alack, it seems it be too late, for the battle is now in full swing and the enemy approaches. If wemakes it throughst the other end alive, I shall rightly punish our squires for their ham-fisted management of our warhorses’ fycking schedule.
Long Live The King!
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