Sir Lionel pulled hard on the reins. At the same time he felt the pull on his soul. Something was missing. His horse Excalibur - a grey stallion bred for the brutality of warfare coughed its displeasure. Despite its annoyance it came to an abrupt halt. He stared through the thick sea of trees directly ahread. The mass of ancient conifers coiled around each other. They seemed to be screaming in pain, or was it terror. He could not tell. Not did it matter, the forest was thinning out. Something was missing.
He adjusted the shield that rested on his left arm. It bore the crest of the one true king - Arthur. A symbol that he came from the lands of southern Britannia. Being a knight, he was trained to be unafraid. At least of most dangers. Even the type that most mortal persons would flee from. However, the creatures of Bedigrane Forest and beyond, were another matter. Still, something was missing.
Around him his retuine of companions and men-at-arms reigned in their own mounts. Surrounding him were a few dozen of his most seasoned soldiers. Warriors that during King Arthur's campaign had seen battle and hardship aplently. He had shed blood and sweat together with these men, to reunite a divided realm. Now those event past seemed long ago and far away. Now he ventured on a personal quest. One more important than serving the true king. Something remained missing.
It had happened a few nights past while Sir Lionel had been called out to investigate an attack on an nearby village. A distraction, he had reasoned. The vile scum had raided his home and kidnapped his beautiful bride to be, the fair lady Lyonesse. Together with the men who had ridden with him at the time, he had set off in all haste, in the direction she had been taken. To the north. Through the cursed forest. No doubt to the castle of the infamous Red Knight. Now they were finally nearing the edge of the forest. Something remained just out of reach.
His mind raced. He could feel it. Despair filled his stomach. That thing he yearned for was returning. Rage poured from his eyes. It was close. He badly needed it. Sir Lionel drew his weapon and yelled out a bloodthirsty cry. It encourged his horse forwards into a gallop. His men did likewise. It was there. Within reach. As he led his men through the last few miles of the forsaken forest, atop of a vast hill in the distance, he could see the objective of his quest. The Serpentine Citadel. He prayed his beloved would be inside. Finally, after days without it. The feeling had returned. Hope embraced his heart.