After riding in stormy weather for almost a fortnight, Lancelot was starting to think it would never let up. Wandering around through the distant country looking for a place to stay was not his idea of fun; especially when it was dark and rainy so he had no concept of time whatsoever.
Arthur steadied his horse up ahead and whirled around to face the rest of his knights. "I see lights up ahead! Tristan! Ride ahead and secure rooms!" he shouted as distant rumbling thunder could be heard in the background.
Lancelot could hear Tristan's mumbling despite the falling of the rain. He assumed the knights could too.
Tristan reached for his reins and galloped off towards the glow of the lights which looked like heaven to him after riding in the dark for so long.
The rest of the knights trudged on their horses gloomily after the trail of padded down mud Tristan left in his path.
"If I ever live to reach that town," Bors said pulling his black cloak around him more tightly, "I think I might start believing in Arthur's god."
Lancelot tapped his horse to speed up a little and replied, "You're better off dead." He said with a grim look.