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But presumably such a cavalry as we engaged, massive, overconfident, and clumsy, would not think in terms of reserves, certainly not for turning the tides of battle. - (Swordsmen of Gor, Chapter 17, Sentence #80)

A moment later, a cry to the side arrested my attention and I saw Torgus, grinning, gesturing with his lance to the south. His bannerman with his lance-mounted pennon was within yards of him. I feared for a moment reserves might be entering the field. But presumably such a cavalry as we engaged, massive, overconfident, and clumsy, would not think in terms of reserves, certainly not for turning the tides of battle. What would be the purpose when its enemy was understood to be overwhelmingly overmatched? How many tharlarion would it take to press to the earth a single, scampering field urt? And, clearly, Torgus had seemed pleased. I wheeled about, my gaze following the direction of his lance. Our fleeing foes had now broken apart into a rout of single flights. - (Swordsmen of Gor)