Hadrian looked up from the inexorable path of his charge - someone within the castle had noticed the commotion and recognised Hadrian and his band of knights as allies. As the wooden drawbridge gradually inched downwards, the portcullis behind was raised by a mechanism concealed within the grey bulk of the stone wall. Once, there would have been a full compliment of household guards to oversee it - now, the gate was being manned by nought but elderly servants, too old to flee and too stubborn to abandon what was left of the family they had served for generations. Hadrian's knights had formed into a flying wedge that drove through the barbarian encirclement like a crossbow bolt. There was a rumbling chorus of hoofbeats on the ground that filled Hadrian with a sense of unstoppable momentum, like he was the peak of a great wave that would wash the invaders away. Of course, he was no fool - the odds that he and the knights who'd been placed under his command would make it out alive of this deathtrap were insignificant. But if nothing else, he was a man of honour, and an old favour had been called in. He would fulfil his mandate or die trying.<br/><br/>Hadrian braced himself as he felt his mount plough through the raiders - he felt spear points glance from the slanted surfaces of his armour, and the hafts of others snapping as they impact his shield. There was a deep, gut-wrenching crunch as his mount smashed into a foe that had been too slow to scramble from his path. The man was pounded into the earth beneath the steel-shod hooves of Hadrian's warhorse, and in an instant was left behind as the mounted knight continued to barrel forwards. Out of the corner of his eye, Hadrian saw a monstrously large raider raising a preposterous double-handed axe to strike, and lowered his lance. The gleaming tip of the long weapon effortlessly punched through the layers of mail armour protecting the warrior's chest  skewered him with a sound akin to that a butcher's knife burying into meat - soon after, the lance snapped in half in shower of splinters as Hadrian found his momentum was too great to retrieve the thing. He dropped the useless haft to the dirt and drew his longsword, laying about himself on either side and felling any foe that dared try and blockade him.<br/><br/>His visor was splattered with blood, causing him to flinch beneath it as a coppery smell joined the sweat and steel that was usual for the inside of his helm. Distracted, he took a moment to wipe the crimson colour from the pristine steel, only to look back and see the drawbridge rapidly approaching. It was not lowering fast enough - at this rate, he and his knights would run right into the moat, dragged to an agonising, drowning death by the weight of their armour. He grit his teeth and cried out, to who, he was not sure. The drawbridge itself, evidently. "Faster, damn you, faster!" He uttered a silent prayer to the Lady of the Lake beneath his breath, a prayer which seemed to be answered as a judder of movement saw the drawbridge lower dramatically as the portcullis slammed home in the roof of the entry arch. The drawbridge wasn't entirely lowered, but it was just low enough for there to be a chance... By instinct, the warhorse under him reared up and through its weight into the air. The heavy armour it was clad in much like its master meant it could not leap far - but it could leap far enough, Hadrian noted with satisfaction, as he heard the telltale clatter of hooves on wooden planking. Behind him, the rest of his knights made the same jump.<br/><br/>They hurtled into the castle courtyard as the portcullis slammed down once again, urging their beasts to a halt and and completing small circuits while the beast's momentum was stifled. Panting with exhilaration, Hadrian tore off his helm, revealing a handsome, grubby face with a strong, clean-shaven jaw, a regal nose, and naive blue eyes framed beneath a short coating of dark-brown hair. Despite the near-death, he was grinning like a child as he called out, his voice echoing off the walls of the structures surrounding the courtyard as the hooves of his horse echoed off the cobblestone ground. "Fair Lady Elizabeth! We seek audience, for we are your salvation!" The men behind him cheered, faceless and uniform beneath their visors.