B8 to C6<br/><br/>The charger on which the Queen Knight rode was restless. She could see the field, the fog was heavier on the opposing army. One of the enemy's pawns moved forward first, first to cross into the emmpty field of battle. The horse shifted below her, anxious. She couldn't help but chuckle as she wheeled him in a circle and murmured, "Easy.. Our time comes."<br/><br/>Their own pawn, a younger woman from their numbers, strode forward to mee tthe enemy's advance. The turn passed, no bloodshed, yet. Another pawn oof the enemy's army came forward, met the lady pawn. She would be captured if not defended.<br/><br/>The Queen Knight looked to her Queen, the question unspoken in her eyes even as the charger stirred underneath her. The Queen nodded, she agreed then. The Knight urged the horse forward, passed through the line of pawns in front of her and took a strategic foothold on the battlefield. Now she occupied a white square; her next move would place her on the black again.<br/><br/>Should the lady pawn fall she would avenge the loss. Either way, she could reach their enemy with her spear. In the meantime it was all the Queen Knight could do to keep her horse settled between turns. Her armor, the sleek breastplate, leggings mounted to the saddle, bracers, greaves, gauntlets, gleamed as the morning sun chased away the fog on the field. The spear in her hand glinted before her, held ready to strike.